Page 9 of Open Water

He’s sitting two tables away facing me. Eating a bun like he is sucking the life out of it. Big chunky bites and then, he chews to the point that his cheeks are bulging, and little crumbs are escaping out of his mouth. He’s not elegant. Not refined. He’s a fucking messy eater, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, scrolling through his phone, taking a loud slurp out of the cup of coffee in front of him. Had it not been him, it would have been slightly disgusting. Neanderthalian table manners as my Dad would have laughed. But because it’shim,it’s kind of… I hate to say it… cute. He’s cute. Clumsy and endearing.

He’s a mess. He always has been. He’s like me. Doesn’t quite fit in with the normal crowd. Too pretty to be masculine, but too rough around the edges to be feminine. He’s definitely all man, don’t get me wrong. He is just…Swoony. Sigh. He’s beautiful. Sharp. Defined. Long straggly mousy-brown hair that covers his face. Eyes as blue as the sky. And when he smiles, which he does all the time, he just lights up the world to the point when the air just goes all warm and bright around him.

Yup. Now he is blowing his nose in one of the thin crappy cafeteria napkins and even that is cute. He is blowing his nose and I am having dirty daydreams about him being ill and curled up in bed with me and I am blowing his nose and kissing his temples and... yes… sucking his cock until he screams. Yep.Good Job, Max.

I allow myself a little look. Just a glance from under my fringe where I am keyboard smashing nonsense into my laptop pretending to be really into Google. When in reality, I am creepy-staring at him across the room.

His name is Matteo. Which is like the most perfect name in the history of perfection. Seriously. Some people call him Matti though, which is total blasphemy when you have such a fantastic name. Matteo. Matteo and Maximillian. I mean. Come on, we could be Maxeo. Or Mattax. Yeah, I know. It’s not like it is ever going to happen, but hey, I can dream, can’t I?

I stalk his social media like some creep. I haven’t dared to follow him on Insta, even though I am dying to. He posts all kind of nerdy crap on there—drama things and him looking seriously cool in some theatre play that looks awesome. I wish I had the guts to find out if he is going to be in anything else, because I would totally buy a ticket and go and see him.In my dreams.I would never dare to in real life. I mean, can you imagine? I would be the dude panic-breathing in the back, trying to hide behind the seat, because the man of my dreams is on stage.

I sneak another peek. Oops. He is looking at me. Smiling. He is fucking smiling at me. A big, toothy grin that makes my breath hitch and my skin heat up like I’m on fire.

I think I try to smile back, but my heart is banging holes in my ribcage. Oh, god. He’s still smiling. Chewing and smiling and jerking his head to the side to get his fringe out of his eyes, whilst I am biting my lip and pretending to be super interested in the random shite on my screen. Oh, please leave. Or just sit there. Just sit there and don’t look at me. Please don’t look at me.

DAD: Hey, I will see you at 5. Hope you are having a good day at school.

Saved by my phone. Thanks Dad.

ME: How is your head?I add some random green vomiting emojis. He must be feeling shit.

DAD: I will survive. I take it you have spoken to Lukas?Ah. So, Dad is fishing for info.

ME: No.

I’ll just let him stew a bit then. I can almost picture him, pacing the kitchen silently screaming at me.

ME: He won’t tell me how you know him. He said to ask you. I will find out anyway so just tell me.

There is no reply. Just the damn speech bubble coming and going which means Dad is typing and deleting and fucking around.

DAD: He was in my year at school. We weren’t friends.

Okay Dad. Cryptic shit right there.

ME: AND?

No reply. Instead, I look up to find Matteo gone, which makes me take a deep breath in relief, but at the same time, I want to ugly cry that he is not near me anymore.

“Hi!”

OH FUCK!He has just plonked himself down opposite me. With another coffee in his hand.Fuck. Oh shit. God, help me.I think I make a sound that comes out like a gurgle.

“You haven’t been to Drama for a bit,” he says, and takes a sip out of his cup, looking at me through his fringe.

“No,” I say.Smooth Max. Really cool.

“Can you please come back?” He is actually looking at me and my face is probably the colour of beetroot and my chest is heaving. Seriously. He needs to leave before I pass out. From stupidity, or embarrassment, or both.

“No,” I squeal out. FML.

“Look, your character was by far the most interesting one. Everyone is losing the plot trying to make some kind of lame fucking romance shite for the play. I think we need to add something cool. And your stuff was good. Quirky, but good.”

“Quirky?” I pant out. “I wrote a gay guy with a crush.”Oh, fuck Max, shut your fucking gob, you idiot.

“Yeah, you kind of outed yourself in Drama. It was brilliant. Simon looked like he was going to pee his pants. You are like my hero.” Matteo takes another gulp of coffee, his fingers messing with his fringe and his eyes still fixed on me. “So, will you please come back?” he asks.

I’m about to faint. Or die. Or both. I can’t do this. “Why?” I squeak out.

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