Page 44 of New Year

But broken people were also like antiques: not everyone saw the value in what was being offered. Some people always saw dirty, dusty things.

Zack emerged from the bedroom in a simple black polo that showed off the silver glints in his hair, and he was carefully fixing the clasp on his watch. The fact that he still wore an actual wristwatch was such a turn-on for Nat, who knew few other people who wore one that wasn’t connected to their phone and pulse. “I hope you like tapas,” Zack said.

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t think I’ve ever eaten it.”

“You’ve likely eaten the various components as sides or garnishes, but tapas is an entire experience. Are you game?”

“Definitely.” Nat wanted to share new experiences with Zack. Wasn’t that the entire point of a date? To try something new? Or someone new?

“Fantastic. Ready?”

“Yup.” As soon as Nat stood, he realized he needed shoes first. Then they were in Zack’s car, heading toward the east side of Reynolds. A nice neighborhood with a mix of residential homes, businesses, and the occasional chain store. Zack pointed out their destination as they drove past on Rio Street, on a hunt for good parking.

Nat couldn’t stop plucking at the hem of his untucked shirt as they walked down the bustling sidewalk toward Rio Grille. It was dinnertime on a Saturday, so the area was full of diners and shoppers, and possibly workers heading from one shift to another. So many people, and Nat kept looking. Always watchful. The guy on the bus hadn’t been Austin, but they were in an area Austin had loved. Near restaurants they’d frequented when Austin had wanted to go out, rather than order in.

They’d never eaten here, thank God. Austin thought small plates were fussy and sharing food was what poor people did. To Nat, the whole thing sounded like a fantastic adventure. The kind of adventure that kept his clothes on and didn’t leave Nat worried which parts would end up online for paying customers to enjoy.

They were seated at a table against one of the street-facing windows, which unnerved Nat at first. Anyone walking by could see him. But he couldn’t spend his entire evening worrying that Austin, or someone Austin knew, might spot him randomly in a restaurant window. Tonight was about his date with Zack and nothing else.

He loved the atmosphere of the place, with its terracotta-colored walls, high ceilings, and gently piped music. Some places blared music so loudly that it joined with the conversation and created a bar-like cacophony that stirred Nat’s anxiety. The ambiance here was peaceful, relaxed, and it kept Nat’s nerves buzzing steadily along at a low hum.

“Would you like wine?” Zack asked.

“Sure. I don’t know much about it, but I’ll drink it as part of a meal.” Nat glanced at the wine list on the back of the menu their hostess had left with them. “What do you think?”

Zack grinned, and when their server arrived, ordered two glasses of something French-sounding, plus water for each of them. Nat was okay with being ordered for, since he wasn’t familiar with most of the menu. Sure, he liked olives and had eaten hummus, but he’d never tried lamb, and he couldn’t tell anyone what tabbouleh was.

“How do you feel about the tasting and sharing menu?” Zack asked. “Option number two is my favorite, because it comes with lamb and poultry dishes, so there’s a touch more variety. Lamb isn’t for every palate, especially if you aren’t used to gamey meat.”

Nat scanned the dishes listed under that option. “Um, that sounds great. I’m going to have to trust you, because I haven’t had most of this stuff. I mean, I’ve had kebabs, and I tried a gyro a few years ago, but I don’t have a very refined palate.”

“Thank you for trusting me, Nat.” When their server returned with the water and poured them each a glass of white wine, Zack ordered their entrée. That done, he raised his glass. “To our first date.”

Nat raised his glass, too, and gently tapped the thin rim to Zack’s. “To our first date. And to new experiences.”

Zack smiled then sipped his wine. Nat did the same, unsure what to expect. The wine was sharp and lacked sweetness, but it still had a strong flavor of…something. Not bad. Would definitely be better with food.

“So.” Zack relaxed into his chair and rested his hands in his lap. “Tell me more about this unrefined palate. If you don’t mind.”

“It’s not that exciting.” Nat glanced around, but the various tables were spaced out enough, the music and conversations just loud enough, that no one could easily eavesdrop. “Growing up, we ate a lot of frozen meals, fast food, or donated meals, which was as exciting as it sounds. College was cafeteria food or instant noodles, typical stuff. When I was with Austin, we ate out sometimes, but he was very steak and potatoes. Not so much with trying new things.”

Not in terms of eating food, at any rate. Using food for entertainment had been a temporary fetish of Austin’s, but he’d decided it was too messy.

“My parents were very much the same way,” Zack said, a touch of sympathy in his soft voice and tender smile. “Every Sunday was the same roast beef dinner. My father hated spicy food, even chili. He thought Indian curry was invented by the devil, and I wish I was kidding. The man was…”

“A bigot?”

Zack snorted. “Very much so, yes. Part of my desire to work in fine dining was the chance to explore all the things he thought were demonic and unclean. To embrace what was considered different at the time, but is very much mainstream now, thanks in large part to celebrity chefs and reality TV.”

Nat couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Would you ever want to compete on one of those shows? Be on TV?”

“God, no. While it’s true that to succeed in this industry, you need a big ego? A big ego doesn’t always translate into actual cooking skills. No, I am content with the little corner of the culinary world that I inhabit right now. I tried reaching for more, and it became far too much to handle. I crashed. I’d rather stay the course than risk crashing again. I might not survive a second time.”

“I get that.” Nat didn’t want fame or fortune, either. He wanted to feel safe and loved and wanted—and to know those emotions were genuine, not an act meant to garner attention from outsiders. His mother and Austin had so much in common that hindsight was like a blade to his throat. “Sometimes anonymity is the healthiest option.”

“It can be. So many people your age live every moment of their lives on social media, and they have no concept of privacy. Anonymous isn’t a familiar concept, and that’s a shame. They desire being seen by millions of strangers on the internet, rather than being seen by a few, truly important people in real life.”

“That’s Austin in a nutshell. He was constantly going live on his phone, and I hated it. I was just a prop on The Austin Show, and I wish I’d seen that more clearly a lot sooner.”

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