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Ian was running late. It was Valentine’s Day and he hadn’t even had a chance to buy a card for his boyfriend, let alone pick out a gift. He’d looked up card stores online before leaving work and had found one just a few blocks away from the hotel they were meeting at, just off the L.
If Ian could have chosen one thing to have as the perfect gift on the most romantic day of the year, it would have been spending the night at Peter’s house instead of at a hotel. Just for one day, he would have loved to feel special… to feel like a normal couple, instead of a dirty secret… but that wasn’t a possibility, especially not with Peter’s wife being home.
He decided to count his blessings: at least he was getting to see his boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. He’d half expected Peter to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to get away from his wife… Instead, they had dinner reservations at the hotel restaurant and would be enjoying the rest of the holiday in their room.
He got off the train and walked the short distance to the card store, but was in shock as he walked through the store’s doors. The shelves were barren, with only a handful of cards remaining. He walked through the aisles and saw that the only things left were oddly specific ones, like “Happy Valentine’s Day to the World’s Best Grandpa”. For a second, Ian considered getting it as a joke since Peter was so much older than him, but thought better of it.
Maybe he could just get him chocolates or something. He turned the corner, looking down the rows to find the section for sweets.
“She likes the kind with the hazelnuts in the middle,” he heard someone saying. “You know, the round ones wrapped in gold.”
“We’re all out of those, but there might be some truffles left. Check the endcap of the last aisle,” the clerk replied.
Ian was hurriedly walking down the last aisle, which was full of birthday cards and a fully stocked St. Patrick’s Day section, which he found hilarious. Since when did people give cards on a drinking holiday? He rounded the corner, still smiling at the idea of the green-themed cards, and reached for the one and only heart-shaped box left on the endcap.
Only he wasn’t able to pick it up, because someone else was holding on to the other end of the box of chocolates. The guy must have come down the other aisle, because Ian hadn’t seen him at all. He realized that this must have been the guy he’d heard asking the clerk about the gold chocolates with hazelnuts in the center.
He pulled at the box and the guy held on firmly, yanking it towards him.
“I got it first,” Ian said, narrowing his eyes at the short brunet.
The pale man in front of him raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Ian attempted to pull the box towards him again but the guy’s vice grip on it was enough that he wasn’t even able to move it an inch. “Let go,” Ian told him.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” the guy threatened, glaring at him with steel-blue eyes.
Ian looked at the hand holding onto the box and noticed the knuckle tattoo there read “FUCK”. He hesitated a moment, only guessing at what the other hand said, and wondering if maybe he had bitten off a little more than he could chew.
He loosened his grip on the box. “It’s fine,” Ian said, realizing that the sweets were not worth the hassle of a fight. “You take it. Your girlfriend actually wanted chocolates, and even if they aren’t exactly her favorite kind, she’ll probably still appreciate it,” he said with a shrug. The brunet snatched the box out of Ian’s hand as soon as he finished talking.
“Odds are my boyfriend won’t even get me anything,” he muttered. Peter wasn’t one for romantic gestures…
The guy coughed uncomfortably. “Thanks,” he said, voice low, before walking towards the register.
Ian turned around and picked up the closest thing he found, which just happened to be a deck of cards, and headed to the register. He figured he could improvise and write messages on them or something… a play on the word “cards”. Maybe he would be able to google some sappy Valentine’s Day messages while he waited for Peter to arrive.
The line of men trying to buy last-minute cards was laughable. Ian promised himself never to slack off to the point of being in this ridiculous situation again. He was in line behind the short brunet who was nervously tapping at the box of chocolates in his hands. Ian’s phone rang just as the brunet got to the counter. It was from an unknown number.
“Hello?” he asked, picking up.
“Hey, it’s me,” Peter said on the other end of the line. “Listen, Ian… I won’t be able to make it to dinner,” he said guiltily. “Leslie made plans for us…” he explained.
“You’re seriously cancelling?” Ian sighed, kicking himself for once again letting his expectations get too high. He really shouldn’t have been surprised; the wife and kids always came first. “Where are you calling me from?” he wondered.
“Payphone,” Peter told him. “Just outside of the restaurant she chose.”
“I see. So you didn’t want anyone to see you calling me,” he said, voice dripping with contempt.
“You know I can’t take a chance when she’s around…”
“Yeah. You’ve made that clear,” Ian bit back.
“Come on… You can go to the hotel now and get a key. I already called and told them to expect you,” his boyfriend said. “Go to the room and order room service. Get anything you want, and I’ll be there as soon as she goes to sleep. Some wine with dinner, combined with the Ambien she’ll take should do the trick,” Peter explained.
“Okay,” he said, pressing his lips together until they turned white to keep from yelling. He really didn’t want to get into an argument now, especially not over the phone. “We’ll talk later,” he said curtly, then ended the call.
It was his turn at the register, but he suddenly wasn’t in the gift-giving spirit. He put the cards down and apologized to the clerk before exiting the store. He got outside and leaned against the glass windows of the shop. It felt good to take in the cold Chicago night air. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to calm himself down, berating himself, yet again, for being surprised by Peter.
“You look like you could use a cigarette,” someone said to him. Ian opened his eyes and saw that it was the guy from inside the store who he’d let take the last box of chocolates, and the guy was holding out a cigarette. Ian accepted the offer, taking the cigarette, as well as a lighter, from the guy’s hand.
“That obvious?” he asked, lighting up and handing the plastic lighter back.
The guy shrugged his shoulders, then, after a beat, said, “Sounds like he doesn’t deserve chocolates.”
Ian bristled at the comment until he noticed that the guy was smirking. He relaxed and even smiled a fraction before taking a puff of his cigarette.
“Yeah, you’re right. He doesn’t deserve anything,” he said bitterly. “Looks like letting you win was the right decision, though. My asshole boyfriend shouldn’t get them, but your girlfriend’ll be happy.”
The brunet rubbed at his lip with the back of his thumb. “They’re for my sister,” he confessed. “She just went through a breakup and I didn’t wanna see her moping around the house…”
“Oh, sorry,” Ian said. “I overheard you talking to the guy in the store and just assumed…”
“It’s fine,” the guy said, giving Ian a friendly smile. “No big deal.”
They finished smoking. “In all fairness, you weren’t the only one listening to conversations you shouldn’t have been listening to,” the brunet said, tossing his butt to the ground and dragging it across the concrete with his boot.
Ian laughed softly, knowing that the guy had heard almost all of his side of the call with Peter. “True,” he conceded.
“And due to said eavesdropping, I’m pretty sure you don’t have plans right now?”
Ian looked up at the guy in surprise. “What?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“How ‘bout you let me buy you a drink to make up for bullying you out of buying these chocolates?”
“I didn’t… You…” Ian sputtered. “You didn’t bully me. I was the bigger man‒”
The guy barked out a laugh before he could finish his sentence. “You took one look at my tatts and dropped the box like it was poisoned,” he teased, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. “Don’t even try to pretend like that wasn’t how it went down.”
Ian couldn’t even come up with a defense. He had been intimidated by the brunet’s appearance and his gruff words. He looked at him again with a fresh lens. He was actually quite attractive. The pale skin and black hair worked really well together, and those cold eyed he’d glared at Ian with before were much brighter and beautiful now that the threat of violence wasn’t a factor.
But… to have a drink with a stranger ‒ on Valentine’s Day, nevertheless ‒ when he had a boyfriend? Was that really the kind of person Ian was?
The logical part of his brain told him that it would be hours before Peter showed up to the hotel, if he ever did.
“You now what?” Ian began. He didn’t owe Peter anything, and a drink wasn’t exactly cheating. “Fuck it. Let’s go get a drink.”
“You sure?” the guy asked. He was biting his lip, and Ian noticed that he was blushing a little.
Ian nodded, mind made up. “Yeah. Let’s go find a bar,” he said. “I’m Ian, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.
The guy shook it and his fingers felt warm and soft against Ian’s. “Mickey.”
One drink with Mickey turned into two, two turned into four, and two hours later, Ian was calling Peter and leaving him a voicemail telling him that he wasn’t up for being anyone’s mistress any longer. There were better things for him on the horizon.