Heteroflexible

“Me? A barista?” Malcolm scoffs. “I should own my own coffee shop. My father insists that I follow in his footsteps, but that bores me, even if I could tell you forty-two different names for pasta.”

“Bores you?” I murmur distractedly, sneaking another peek.

“Bores me. To the death.”

I keep the convo going. My leg is bouncing in place again. “I like the smell of brewing coffee, but I never drink it.” When I take another peek at Jimmy, he’s nodding toward my date, then doing some kind of hand signal I don’t understand. I frown his way, then turn my eyes back to Malcolm. “But I do like Frappuccinos.”

“Hmm,” is all Malcolm replies.

I hear a bucketful of judgment in that one miniscule “Hmm”.

Jimmy waves his arms in the air, which succeeds in attracting about half the room his way before I ever look. When I do, he nods over his shoulder, then points down at his dick, then points away.

What in the ever living fuck is he trying to communicate?

Malcolm clears his throat. “Something wrong?”

That would be the second time Malcolm has uttered those exact words to me.

This doesn’t bode well for a first date. “N-No,” I insist. “I’m waving. I mean fine—I’m fine. Not waving.”

No, it’s Jimmy who’s waving his arms again. What in the hell?

“You sure?” asks Malcolm dryly.

“Yep, totally sure. So …” My eyes flick over to Jimmy again.

Malcolm notices this time, then peeks over his own shoulder, following my line of sight. Jimmy stops waving his arms just in time to pick up his menu and shield his face so fast, he smacks himself in the head with the heavy thing.

None the wiser, Malcolm glances around, uncertain where I’m looking, then returns his attention to me. “Is there someone here you recognize? Isn’t that one of those weird things in Spruce, that everyone recognizes everyone?”

His questions are starting to sound mocking. “No, no one.”

“You keep peeking over my shoulder.”

“I’m fine, I was just …” Jimmy’s back to waving his arms. For the love of baby Jesus … “Actually, can you excuse me? I need to use the boy’s room.”

“Mmm-hmm,” mumbles Malcolm, then folds his hands in his lap and detaches his eyes.

I give him an apologetic smile he doesn’t see, then slip off my chair and make a casual, unhurried walk down the aisle to the men’s restroom. I slip quickly through its doors.

Someone slips in just as fast behind me.

I spin on him in front of the sinks. “What the fuck, Jimmy?”

Jimmy sighs. “Sorry, man, it’s just that my phone died. I was playing too many games, I drained it down to nothin’. It died.”

Really? This is what he so urgently needed to tell me? “Why didn’t you just plug it in? Your ma’s car has two USB ports.”

“Left my charger in my truck. Do you need rescuing yet?” he asks abruptly, his eyebrows lifting halfway up his forehead. “Is it going really bad? The date?”

“It’s …” It could be a lot worse, right? Like, this date could be a hot mess of a disaster compared to what it is, right? “It’s fine, Jimmy.”

“Fine? Just fine?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Can I go back now?”

“No way. You got up to pee. You’ve gotta stay in here at least three more minutes now.”

“Why?”

“Because if you return too quickly, he’ll think you didn’t wash your hands after you tinkled, and that’s just plain gross.” Jimmy crosses his arms, satisfied with himself.

I narrow my eyes. “‘Tinkled’ …?”

“Look, we’re gonna have to use your signal thing now if you want an out,” he goes on. “Since my phone’s dead, we can’t text. I will keep an eye out while I’m eatin’ my steak. Now, if you—”

“Wait a sec. What?”

Jimmy blinks. “I’m gonna stay at that empty table during your whole date.”

“How? You’re—” I gesture at him. “You’re way underdressed for this place. How’d they even let you in, dressed like that??”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “My mama owns the place. Duh.”

Okay, yeah, that was a stupid question. “You can’t eat a meal back there and stare at me the whole time, Jimmy. I don’t need a damned babysitter for my date.”

“Yeah, you do. So just like we said, if you need rescuing …”

“No.”

“… then just make some special signal with your hands …”

“I said no.”

“… and I’ll come over with some fake emergency. Oh, you can drop your napkin on the ground! That’s a perfect sign, and I can—”

“JIMMY.” I put my hands on his shoulders and get up close to his face. “I don’t need any rescuing. I’m fine. Just go back to your car, and I’ll finish up with this date, see how it goes, and then you and I can drive on back to Spruce afterwards.”

He huffs in frustration, causing the bangs of my hair to dance. “But what if you like him too much? What if you wanna go back to his place or somethin’? How will I know?”