Fortuitous (BoyxBoy)

Three

MAYBE WE SHOULD MEET

            We talked a lot that night. He was born in San Francisco then moved shortly after with his mom to Donostia-San Sebastián, Spain. He said that a million times sexier than I ever could. He got a full-ride ride to NYU when he was seventeen and that’s how he came to The States. He has family in San Francisco (somewhere that I’ve never been) and he used to visit them every summer. He spent summers in San Fran and some thanksgivings, but he always went to Spain for Christmas. He said the worst part of growing up and being responsible was not being able to see his family and spend as much time with them as possible. It’s been a while since he has been back home to Spain. I could hear the sadness in his voice when he told me that.

            I think when he said that, that was the moment my heart tightened and swelled in my chest at the same time. I could listen to him talk for hours. Every word that came out of his mouth was said with such passion and intensity. I liked that a lot. As much as he talked he asked a lot of questions. We spent more time on the phone than one should spend with someone they don’t know or haven’t met yet. He was great and I felt sad that I thought so.

            The fact that he was my first thought that morning made my gut twist with something I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t sadness but it definitely wasn’t something good either. Usually I contemplate and try to understand exactly what was going through my head because half of the time I didn’t understand it. This morning though, I got out of bed, went to the bathroom to do my morning bid, put some running gear on and then left the house with just a few necessities in my pocket that did not include my cellphone.

            The morning air was crisp, signaling that fall was near. I could live in fall and winter forever. Running wasn’t my preferred form of exercise due to the long-term effects the exercise had on joints. The thrill, however, from running, was very addicting. An addiction I was willing to live with. Running and Caffeine. Those two I could live with.

            I’m not sure how many miles I ran. Usually I could track it but my pace was different than usual. My watch said I ran for an hour and a few minutes. It was a little bit after seven. I had a handheld water bottle carrier that I feel was one of my best purchases. It was very convenient. After taking a few sips I checked where I was. I had made an unconscious turn somewhere. It might have been out of habit or just my brain working faster than I was aware. I happened to be close to home.

            On my way home I went to get Starbucks. The coffeehouse was packed but I didn’t expect anything less in Hoboken at seven in the morning. I got my Caramel Macchiato, Venti, with an extra shot of espresso, dumped all my change in the tip jar, and then I was on my way. My morning was starting out great; a nice long run and a nice long cup of coffee.

            By the time I got inside, using the garage since I didn’t bring my keys, my coffee was still at a temperature that was impossible to drink without murdering my tongue and throat. So I left it on the countertop in the kitchen and went to take a shower. The second my mind relaxed and slowed down I started thinking about him again, his voice, what he may be like in person and what he really looked like in person. It only took a few minutes of thinking about him to realize I didn’t know his name. I smiled because I’ve convinced myself of a reason to call him.  

            After I put on a pair of boxers I picked my phone up from the bedside table where I had put it before bed. A couple seconds of scrolling, I found his number in my call history. I didn’t bother calling him because my phone started ringing and he was the one calling me.

            My heart started thumping in my chest. It was beating faster than it had been when I was running. The sudden amount of nerves crawling underneath my skin surprised me. It wasn’t there when I was the one calling him.