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7
Iwas nervous as I drove to the pizza parlor. When a favorite song came on the radio, I turned it up and tried drumming my fingers along with the beat while waiting at stoplights. I didn’t want to think about Nicolas and try and guess how our dinner would go.
For dinner, I dressed down but tried to maintain my identity. I wore a teal blue polo with a light check pattern over khaki pants. I brushed my hair back off my forehead and wore leather wingtip shoes.
While preparing for the night out, I stared into the mirror. I wondered whether I saw more wisdom in my eyes or I was merely tired. The last month was a whirlwind for a man who had little actual work to do his entire life. I took three deep breaths and steeled myself to think clearly and focus for the rest of the evening.
I clicked on my car’s blinker and turned off a busy street to enter the restaurant’s parking lot. As I glanced toward the door, I saw Nicolas entering. He wore blue jeans and a dark polo. His shoulders fell forward like a weight was anchored in a yoke across his neck. When he disappeared through the door, I shook my head, wondering if I only imagined my observation.
After shifting the Audi into park and turning the key, I stared at myself in the rearview mirror. I practiced a smile in preparation for greeting Nicolas. It looked tentative instead of sincere. I tried relaxing my jaw, but it did no good.
I was on my own. Faking was impossible around Nicolas. I ran my fingers through my hair one last time and opened the door of the car.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the pizza parlor. Nicolas sat at a table for two in the opposite corner. He looked up and spotted me.
When our eyes met, Nicolas rose from his seat and walked up to greet me. I met him halfway, and he threw his arms around my body, enveloping me in a massive hug. His grip felt as if he were clinging for life. He whispered into my ear, “Thank you. I was so worried you may not show.”
“I keep my word. I hope you know me that well.”
The words came out wrong. I sounded like I was lecturing Nicolas. I didn’t want to approach the conversation from an adversarial viewpoint, and I knew that part of my fractured confidence was my responsibility.
Nicolas said, “I know you don’t lie. Let’s sit.”
I followed Nicolas across the restaurant and sat on the opposite side of the small round table. When I stared into his eyes, his gaze met mine. We were silent for a few moments, both inspecting each other’s faces and hoping to find answers.
Nicolas spoke softly to keep the conversation as private as possible. He said, “Maybe we should drop the BDSM. I’ve been thinking about it, and I want you much more than I want that.”
The suggestion surprised and startled me. I said, “I’m not sure how to respond.”
Nicolas spoke earnestly. “I think I can drop it and do without it. I know what I can’t do—I mean, what I don’t want to do without is you.”
I held up a hand. “Wait—what if I don’t want to give it up?”
It was Nicolas’ turn to look perplexed. “But—“
I hung my head. “I’m lost already, Sir.”
It took tremendous fortitude, but I glanced upward at Nicolas’ face and saw a tentative smile. Nicolas said, “But I failed you. I know you have to trust me if we continue on this path, and I’m not sure I trust myself.”
Reaching across the table for Nicolas’ hand, I answered, “I trust you.”
Nicolas gripped my hand tightly. “Let’s not rush too fast. Let’s order some pizza. I’m so intoxicated by your presence, and I worry that it clouds my judgment.” Nicolas looked shy at that moment, and he laughed self-consciously. My desire for him surged again.
When the pizza arrived, our server placed it on a stand in the center of the table. I began to reach for a slice, and Nicolas held one toward me instead. He offered to feed me. The romantic gesture warmed my heart. I took a bite and thought about Nicolas’ long, strong arms wrapped around me.
The meal continued with Nicolas eating his bites of pizza and then feeding me. Halfway through, he asked, “Do you still want to serve me?”
“More than anything, Sir. Nothing has ever made me feel so much like I belong—like I’m wanted and even needed.”
“So, do you want to try again?”
“I do, but I have a request.” I glanced around out of awareness that I was speaking in a normal tone of voice. I didn’t want others to eavesdrop.
Our corner of the restaurant was isolated from most of the other customers, and I relaxed once more. I leaned forward and asked, “Can we try again without Taylor—at least for now?”
Nicolas beamed. “Yes. I assumed we would proceed with that assumption already. You are who is important to me.” It was my turn to smile back.
“I don’t have anything against him, and it was hot until—I hope he’s okay. Have you talked to him?”
