Page 45 of M.M. Scrooge
Daniel
The last timesomeone took me on a real date was…well, let’s not think too hard on the time frame. Needless to say, it was a while ago.
I don’t know what to wear. Max will be here any minute, and I’m dressed in jeans and a hoodie, looking like one of my students. But the fabric is so soft.
The place we’re going, Nature & Noodles, is casual, so my outfit’s fine, but what if it doesn’t look like I tried?
I tried, okay?
My clothes are just boring. I’ve never been one of those gays with actual taste. My head’s always been crammed in a book, not a fashion magazine.
I’m peeking out of the blinds when Max pulls up in a sleek black car. The contents of my stomach flip. No time to change again. I’m stuck with jeans and a hoodie.
I hurry out of the front door before he can knock. I don’t want to get stuck showing him around my mess of a living room, which is cluttered with stacks of books, notebooks, and papers. I’d rather he see that stuff in a whirlwind on the way to my bedroom later than now, before dinner, when he’s thinking with his brain instead of his dick.
Max climbs out of the car, anddamn, he cleans up good.
Also, I’m terribly underdressed.
He’s got on dress slacks, a gray button-up, and an honest-to-god black silk tie. Compared to him, I look like a hobo. I knew I should have tried harder.
“Shit, look at you,” comes out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
Max glances down at himself, and his cheeks flush. “Sorry. I was afraid I’d overdressed. I didn’t know what to wear.”
His reply calms my nerves and makes me feel shitty at once. So he was having the same problem as me but chose the opposite extreme. And now I’ve gone and made him feel bad about it. “No, you look great. Really great. I’ll change.”
“Don’t. You look great. And comfortable. You should stay that way.”
Our awkward exchange has brought us within arm’s length. I don’t know what to do with myself. Hug him? Kiss him? Hug and kiss him? Have I always been this useless around hot guys, or is it something about Max that throws me off-kilter?
Max solves this gracefully with a gentle embrace and a kiss on my cheek. “Next time I’ll dress more casual. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Next time.My pulse races. A guy who wants a next time is a guy who really wants to get to know me. God, please don’t let me fuck this up.
He opens the car door for me like a proper gentleman. I’m glad he didn’t bring flowers, or we’d be in serious swooning territory.
He’s got classic rock playing at a low volume on the radio. That doesn’t really surprise me. He looks like the classic rock type. Like he’d be at home in an AC/DC T-shirt and black, acid-washed jeans. I really don’t know anything about Max. He’s a blank slate.
I’m sorting through questions to ask when he beats me to it. “You said you were a professor. What do you teach?”
I don’t expect Max to be interested in philosophy, so I hurry through an explanation, he surprises me by asking a handful of follow-up questions.
“Are you into philosophy, Max?”
“To be honest, I’ve never given the subject much thought. But I’ve been doing some soul-searching recently, and, well, I guess I’m due for some new interests.”
“And somehow I’ve made the list?”
He glances from the road to me. “You’re at the top of the list, Daniel.”
Wow. Wow. That’s actually a lot of pressure. “I’m not all that interesting.”
“Sure you are.” He grins, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You walked into a gym by yourself to start a fitness program as an adult, even though you’ve never done anything like that before. You finished college, graduated school, and got a PhD. I dropped out junior year, so to me, that’s really an accomplishment. You took a chance on some rando in the locker room showers.” He winks. I blush. “You said yes to giving me a second chance after I was a jerk. And I have a feeling that’s the tip of the iceberg. So yeah, you’re interesting.”
I don’t know what to say. My adrenaline is doing cartwheels in my veins. I’m not used to compliments, especially so many in a row. “So are you.” I’m trying for casual, but no doubt I sound besotted already. “How’d you get into personal training?”
Max drives with one hand on the wheel and the other in his lap. I may or may not be ogling his muscles. His arms are just so…curvy.
