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When Charles returned to their table he found Raven almost doubled over with laughter, her coffee perched precariously close to the edge and all but forgotten.
He looked around; it was a pretty quiet Sunday afternoon at their favorite café, with the usual clientele of university students and neighborhood locals. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, except…oh, for a spectacularly handsome man – tall and lean with cheekbones to die for – who was just sitting down a couple of tables away with a laptop and an extra-large coffee and gosh he had the nicest eyes–
Raven snorted, and that caught Charles’ attention again. “What? What’s so funny?”
She waved the phone in her hand, which Charles was quick to recognize as his own. “You got a text while you were in the washroom. From somebody called ‘Do Not Answer Because The Sex Was Terrible’? Care to elaborate?”
Charles groaned and slumped into his chair with a sigh. “What did it say?”
“Well the first text was just ‘Hey’,” she answered, and then added rather gleefully, “but then the second one came like, two seconds later—”
“Just give me the phone; I can read it myself, Raven. And why are you looking at my messages? They’re private!”
“—and it says ‘Baby you’re so hot. Fuck, you were on fire last night. I can’t wait to see you again and suck your delicious di—”
“Raven! We’re in public!” he hissed, which did absolutely nothing to wipe the shit-eating grin off his sister’s face. Instead she ignored his outstretched hand and leaned her body further away, eyes glued to the screen as she cackled.
“I’ll tell you what – you tell me about this ‘Do Not Answer’ guy and I’ll give you back your phone. Deal?”
He wasn’t terribly inclined to share the gory details of his sex life with his sister; at least not here in the middle of the afternoon in a coffee shop instead of happily ensconced at a pub somewhere getting tipsy (sloshed). But there didn’t seem to be anyone within hearing distance except hot guy with the cheekbones, and he seemed utterly engrossed with whatever he was looking at on his laptop.
Charles sighed again. “Fine. If I tell you will you give me my phone back?”
“C’mon! How bad was it, really?” She was still smiling, and not at all sympathetic to his misfortune.
He snorted. “The name I gave him should tell you everything you need to know.”
Raven shook her head. “No way. I want details. Spill your guts now.”
“Fine,” he said, taking a sip of his tea to fortify himself for the interrogation. “He fell asleep…during.”
She started laughing again, great guffaws that – to Charles’ chagrin – drew the attention of half of the café. “What? No! How?”
Charles grimaced; it was not a memory he cared to relive, considering it happened not more than twelve hours ago. “We were…and he was, and he came and then he fell asleep…still inside,” he finished with a hushed voice.
“Oh my god,” she wheezed, and Charles thought he might have to perform CPR on her if she passed out from laughing too hard. “What an absolute bastard.”
“And he sucks cock like he’s a fucking vacuum cleaner.”
“No!”
“So that’s the reason for the nickname. And why he’s definitely not getting a reply to his texts.”
They both laughed, and it made Charles feel a tiny bit better about his horrible evening, though he was definitely done with blind dates set up by his terrible friends. He might even be inclined to take a short break from it all; or at least until his recent streak of bad luck had run its inevitable course.
“Okay but why the name?” Raven asked.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean why don’t you delete his number? Why keep him in your contacts list if you’re never going to see him again?”
Charles peered at her over the rim of his mug and grinned. “Oh I never delete anyone from my Contacts list. I make notes so when I’m too drunk to remember him I’ll at least know if it’s someone I should answer.”
He watched as Raven scrolled through his other contacts, chuckling as she made faces over the various nicknames he’d assigned to other, less than stellar dates.
“What about ‘Doesn’t use coasters’? Does he get a reply?” she snarked.
Charles smiled. “Not great, but not a deal breaker. So yes.”
“‘Cries during sex’?”
“Oh not him. I’m still traumatized.”
“‘Watches AMERICAN football’? Really Charles?”
He snickered, and nudged her with his foot. “What? That’s not real football!”
Raven shook her head and slid his phone across the table with a sigh. “You’re hopeless, oh brother of mine. You have terrible luck and dreadful taste in men. You’re never to going to find someone to settle down with at this rate.”
It’s not the first time that the same thought has occurred to him; that he’s spent quite a few years now bouncing between one night stands and relationships with men and women who were inherently incompatible with his life choices. But Charles was still young and a hopeful optimist so—
“Maybe I’ll meet some random person on the subway and we’ll hit it off. Or someone here at the coffee shop that’ll change my life. You never know, Raven, what could happen tomorrow or the next day. I just know that today I’m definitely not going to be texting Julian—”
“Julian,” Raven scoffed, “’Julians’ are always bad. I could have told you that before you went on your date with Julian.”
“Fine, fine, I should get the Raven Xavier seal of approval on all my prospective dates,” Charles acquiesced, because it was just easier than arguing. “Are you done making fun of me now? Don’t you have somewhere you need to be in half an hour?”
“Yes, I’m going,” she said, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek when he handed over her coat and her shopping bag. “Good luck finding true love!”
He smiled fondly as she bundled out the door, watching until she turned the corner at the end of the street and disappeared out of sight. Another text came through just as he finished the last of his tea, and Charles didn’t bother reading it before he slipped his phone into his coat pocket and started gathering the papers he’d been grading before Raven arrived to meet him.
“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted, silky smooth and suddenly very close, and when Charles looked up ‘hot guy with cheekbones’ was standing at his table, his coat on and laptop bag over his shoulder. He was even more handsome than Charles had originally thought, and something about the mischievous glint in his eye and his enigmatic smile was making his stomach do all sorts of unexpected – but not unwelcome – somersaults. “You dropped this. It looked important.”
“Thank you,” Charles said, a little breathless when ‘hot guy’ gave his hand a slow, careful squeeze. But before he could say anything more the man was turning and heading out the door, leaving Charles staring after him still holding the piece of paper in his hand.
He shook himself out of imagining a house full of kids and two dogs with ‘hot cheekbones guy’ and unfolded the note. Inside was a phone number, and a message written in elegant cursive:
Dear ‘Cute Guy with Bad Luck’,
I’d like to take you out on a date. Call me if you’re interested.
Erik (or soon to be ‘Best You’ve Ever Had’)