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It was the second time this week. Hōjō sat at the bar and he waited, opening his phone to make sure that he arrived on time, checking the dating app just in case the girl messaged, resisting the temptation to text his date.
Ten minutes was completely reasonable. Waikiki traffic could be a bear! Hōjō knew this! And yes, a luau was absolutely cliché for a first date; that was what was fun about them!
Twenty minutes was about the time that he began to worry. Because usually by then, if they were going to be late, he would have at least gotten a message by now.
I’m at the Tiki Bar! Did I get the day messed up again? I can be such an airhead!
Hōjō texted at the 23 minute mark. Not a full half-hour (that was too long), not 20 minutes exactly (that could seem way too anal retentive).
Oh. Sorry I forgot!
[Typing…]
I don’t think this is going to work out. I’m sorry.
And another one bit the dust.
It was beginning to seem like Hōjō was never going to find love.
Even when the girl did arrive on the date, she was often distracted. Hōjō would manage to get an okay three-minute conversation going, usually about his family’s herbal medicine shop and the best thing for stomach problems, and they would immediately begin looking down at their phone and typing.
They didn’t seem to have a million emergencies that pulled them away from the dates (which Hōjō knew usually meant that it was so bad the person called their friend), so… that was a win, right? But they also never seemed to be available for a second date.
“Um, waiter?” Hōjō flagged down the colorfully dressed woman with the hibiscus in her hair. “Oh, I mean waitress.” Smooth, Hōjō. “Could I get a Sex on the Beach?” He had to grimace when she raised her eyebrow at his drink choice. “Um, the drink. Just… the drink. Nothing else. I just—I got stood up and—”
“Coming right up!” she chirped, but she looked like she just wanted to get away from him. Not that he could blame her.
How many girls had rejected him at this point in his life? He was young and virile! He graduated top of his class at the University of Hawaii and he had lined up an excellent job! He was a catch, dammit!
So why did dates feel like chores? Why was there never a spark? Why did he—
“You know…” A silky voice cut across Hōjō’s thoughts. “That much sugar and alcohol goes straight to the hips.”
The voice was from a man sitting at the table adjacent to Hōjō’s. His hair was to his shoulders, jet-black and wavy. He wore a brightly colored yukata adorned with the fern leaves in all shades of blue and green. His eyes were near as black as his hair, and he wore an exquisite blue eyeliner that managed to make his eyes look darker. His lips, painted with a shimmery red lipstick, were curled up into a smirk.
He was… attractive—not that Hōjō was looking at the rest of his lithe body. Definitely not his legs, which were toned: a diver’s legs.
“Bad date?” the man then asked; his chair scraped against the patio floor as he joined Hōjō’s table. When he leaned forward, his necklace jingled. It was silver, with a sword pendant with a snake roping around it.
“No date,” Hōjō grimaced.
“Rough luck,” the man said, his eyes roving Hōjō’s body. It was making something deep inside of Hōjō tingle. “Men can be so damn fick—”
“Excuse me, but I was going on a date with a woman,” Hōjō squawked, at exactly the same time that the waitress returned, and set his Sex on the Beach down in front of him. She retreated so fast that Hōjō didn’t have time to explain.
“No shit?” The man looked Hōjō up and down one more time. The tingle intensified. “You seriously ordered a Sex on the Beach while waiting for a woman to show up?”
“W—well, yes, I did,” Hōjō murmured. What? He liked Sex on the Beach (the drink). It was sweet and fun and fruity. It made him feel good inside, and had just enough liquor that he was pleasantly buzzed. And who was this guy to question Hōjō on his drink choice, anyway? “I didn’t realize that my choice of drink would somehow have anything to do with who I got stood up by, but—“
“Oh honey, you misunderstand.” The man leaned forward, extending his hand; his fingernails sparkled with an electric green polish that matched the fern leaves on his yukata. “I thought you were signalling.”
“Signal—ling?” Hōjō didn’t understand.
“Oh dear lord, are you not even bi?” The man looked irate, but somehow the way his red lips were pouting made him… no. Hōjō couldn’t think that. He had stuffed all those feelings down into a place that they didn’t exist anymore. There was no point—
Wait.
“You—you thought I was gay?” The look of relief on the man’s face seemed to indicate that Hōjō had finally caught up to this ridiculous situation. “Because… I ordered a Sex on the Beach?”
“Your hair is styled nearly into a bouffant, your shirt is lavender, you’re wearing strappy sandals and you’re not gay?” The man forced Hōjō to look at his outfit.
He liked this shirt; he thought it brought out the subtle notes in his eyes and complemented his hair. Then he looked down at the leather sandals on his feet, the ones that twisted and roped up his calves.
“They’re gladiator sandals,” Hōjō huffed; he thought he looked like a Greek athlete in them.
“Jesus.” Hōjō’s new tablemate snapped his fingers for the waitress to come over. “He’ll have another Sex on the Beach, and could you get me a cosmopolitan? Merci.” Once the waitress retreated again, the man turned to Hōjō, resting his jaw on his hand. “I’m Jakotsu, and you are either the cutest clueless straight boy or the cagiest gay boy I have ever met.”
“I’m not clueless.” Hōjō hated when people accused him of that. Okay okay, he was terrible at picking up on other people’s signals. It was why he took to online dating, after all. Because text messages were easier to understand than body language.
“Not clueless at all.” Hōjō was fairly certain that there was sarcasm in the way that the man—Jakotsu—said that. “So, you’re just a cute straight boy who wears lavender, gladiator sandals, and drinks froofy drinks at a tiki bar?”
“Yes,” Hōjō tried not to feel embarrassed. What was so wrong with being into fashion, and liking the way that sandals made his calves look, and drinking tasty things and… and apparently feeling a blush come to his face as he tried to tear his eyes away from Jakotsu’s lips. “Well—“
“You’re damn lucky that I have a himbo kink,” Jakotsu drawled. “Sex on the beach, my treat.”
Hōjō probably should say no. But… how many times had he been stood up by women? How many “sorry I don’t think this is going to work?” had he heard? How many girls had he tried to date because he was supposed to have a girlfriend and all that?
Far far too many, that’s how many!
It was time for Hōjō to make a change, to try something new, to actually have a date that would be a success! So what if it was with a guy? They were in Honolulu! Gay marriage was legal!
It was worth a shot, right?
“Okay! Sex on the Beach for me, your treat!” Hōjō beamed. Maybe he was finally going to have an excellent first date!
Artwork commission by nartista
“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Hōjō’s revelation hit just as the sun tucked behind the ocean, flashing green into the sky. “I—I’m gay!”
Jakotsu looked up from his kneeling position, a loud smack came from his lips as he removed them from his quarry.
“No shit, honey,” Jakotsu said, then he winked and resumed his ministrations.
He really couldn’t believe that ‘sex on the beach’ line actually worked.