The Older Man (BoyxBoy)

Eighteen

            Everything has been going so great lately it has me kind of nervous. Ian doesn’t know. If I tell him how I feel he’ll start watching me and worrying about me. Here’s the contradiction. Things have been going so great I don’t want them to stop. More than that, I don’t want to ruin it. He’s so happy and he’s always in a good mood. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. The only thing that bothered him lately was the fact that we never go out together.  And that’s why I’m in the elevator of Stone heading to the top floor. I called him to make sure he was going to be in the building at least. I might have pulled a few tricks to make sure I knew exactly where he was.

            Cynthia gave me a hard time to go see him without an appointment but turned out that she was only joking around. She let me in and the surprise was written all over his face. He looked like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, mouth agape, eyes wide, hands exactly where they were (looking over papers).

            “Hi,” I said, and then I waved for effect. That seemed to snap him out of his state of shock. He did his thing on his iPad this time and memories flooded my mind as the glasses turned white. No one could see in but we could see out.

            “Ollie! H-hi! What are you doing here?”  It was humorous how he took a long time before he moved from behind his desk to greet me with a kiss.  

            “I came to ask you out for lunch?”

            Ian stepped back as if to see my clearly, arms crossed over his chest and all. “Are you asking me out on a date? In public?”

            “Ian, this is not—”

            “I know what it’s not,” he said, stepping closer so he could kiss me slowly. “Whatever it is or isn’t, it means the world to me.”

            “We’re going to be late for our reservation if we don’t leave right now.”

            “’Kay, let me call Don.” I smoothly took his phone and tucked it back exactly where he took it.

            “We’re taking a cab, sweetie.”

            “Did he just call me sweetie?” I heard him asking himself, repeating the word over and over as we went through the office and towards the elevator. Even after he told Cynthia he was leaving he was still mumbling the word. Knowing he was peevish about the word will sure come in handy one day. I was doing this only for Ian. He’s away for a couple hours and I miss him as if he had been gone for years. Imagine the torture of being next to him and not being able to touch or kiss him as I please because everybody and their fucking grandmother are watching him. We were only in the cab for five minutes and he was restless. He was gripping the old torn up leather seat until his fingers turned white. I only held his hand because the cab driver couldn’t see and because there was no traffic, which meant no stopping so it was near impossible for anyone on the outside to see at the speed we were going.

            The good thing about the restaurant I picked is that it was reservations only. People want to step in a restaurant at lunchtime and just eat they’re in a rush. No one wants to worry about reservations. People prefer to reserve seats for dinner, seems more formal and more worth it. And in a busy city like New York majority of the people are stuck in their offices or they have this one chill spot that they go to with coworkers. Yeah, this whole thing was well thought out. I think too much when I’m working and that’s all I had been doing for the past two days. As much as I wanted us to be, we weren’t alone. I can see already that that might cause a bit of a problem.