Page 14 of Love Me Like It's Real
“Also, I’m pretty sure the logistics of running sexuality-based events is a nightmare,” the bartender mumbles and when I turn to him he shies away and goes to help another patron.
I guess he does have a point, but it’s nice to know this place is more than just talk in their acceptance and equality. It is the main reason I picked this town to relocate to with the girls. Maplewood, the queerest town in Vermont. And probably the whole of the States, especially at a time like this for the country. It’s nice to know there’s still a safe haven for people like me.
“If you’d like to pick up your interest forms and we’ll get started,” Agnes says and a whole bunch of people storm to the front while I nurse my wine. I’m not in any rush to meet the love of my life.
Eventually I go up front and I’m not only given an interest form but also given a green name badge. Which means I’m one of the people who has to rotate around the room. Great. Now I’m also at risk of falling because I might not be ready to meet my special someone but I’m definitely ready to drink a bottle or two.
A bell rings and I take the first seat available where a lovely young woman waves at me and starts talking about herself, barely taking a breath between pauses, if there even are any.
As the night goes on, I lose count of how many people I’ve gone through, although if my blank interest form is any indication, it’s about ten.
Thankfully, just as I’m running low on gas—and by gas I mean wine—we break for five to refill the tank…and I think I’m already drunk and this metaphor—or is it an analogy—is on its last legs.
As am I.
I can’t keep going through this. I’m way too tired and way too disillusioned to enjoy any of it. If it weren’t for the wine I might have focused on making friends but Poppy is free and childless for the night so I get to drink myself silly. It might be the only chance I get.
After forever at the bar waiting to be served I go back to the event space and try to find where, or with whom, I’d last spoken and take the seat next to them.
“Hi, I’m Felix.”
“Hello, Felix. Are you looking for the one? Your Prince Charming? The one who will make all your dreams come true?” says the guy across from me.
I look up from my glass.
He’s wearing a cap that covers half his face but the chiseled body bursting at the seams of his black T-shirt sparks my interest. The bottom half of his face, his beard, is trimmed to a perfection that makes me envious, and eventually I zero in on his eyes, narrow and dark as they are under the shade of the cap, that make me lean forward so I can get a better look at him.
I move the candle from the side of the table right into the middle and it’s like one of those shots in a horror movie where someone uses a flashlight under their chin to light their face.
“So?” he asks, glancing down at the candle and moving it to the side again.
What’s this guy’s problem?
“Is that your name? So? Well, nice to meet you, So,” I say and bite the inside of my cheek before I smirk and give myself away.
“No. So as in so, what is your answer? Are you looking fortheone?”
“Pftt! The ‘one’ doesn’t exist.”
He snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“Why?” I ask. “Do you want to be my one?”
“What? No! That’s not what I said.”
“Oh, so you don’t think I can beyourone? Well, gee, thanks?”
The guy huffs again and sits back, fixing his cap but giving me a full view of his chest. The T-shirt might be black but his chest is sculpted against it as if bursting to escape the tiny garment and I’m not gonna lie. I want to peek underneath.
I also notice his T-shirt has a white heart struck-through in a white circle but before I can study it better he leans close again.
“I’m just saying,” he says. “If you’re looking for your soulmate you should stop.”
“’Cause it’s you? Well, someone thinks highly of themselves.”
“No!” he exclaims and glances to the front where Agnes is talking to another woman. When he turns to me again he covers his face with his hand.
Is…is he hiding from someone? Is that why he’s being weird?
