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“Caramel macchiato, extra shot, whipped cream and extra caramel!” The barista called from the counter, and Eddie looked up from his book. His table in the corner was only a few metres from the counter, and he could see everyone coming and going. Not that he was there to people-watch, of course, just enjoy a coffee and his book on a rare day off, but he wanted, no, needed to see what kind of person would order such a thing. That had to be over the recommended daily allowance of sugar, his teeth were itching at even the thought of it. It sounded absolutely disgusting.
“That’s me!” A male voice called, stepping out of the line and thrusting his hand out to grab the cup. OK, so that’s not what he was expecting at all. He’d imagined a woman, for a start, maybe a little larger than average, maybe a little short (because all the short women he’d known liked weird things. Like coffee that was so sweet that he was surprised they could even taste the espresso in it), maybe cute in a “pick you up and put you in my pocket” kind of way. But the person that the order belonged to was obviously a guy. Eddie could only see him from the back, but that was enough to know that he was tall, maybe a little taller than Eddie was, with legs that seemed to go on for miles. Above them, a nice ass that was accentuated by the tight jeans he was wearing. Glancing up further, he saw broad shoulders that led to huge biceps. The guy obviously worked out a lot from the way his shirt sleeves were straining around his arms. Blond hair, short at the back, but a little longer at the top, styled with so much product that it made Eddie’s hands itch. It must feel crunchy and hard, not soft and smooth that he loved to run his fingers through. Not that he wanted to run his fingers through this stranger’s hair, of course. That would just be weird.
Turning back to his book, he managed to read one line before a shadow appeared above him, and he glanced up to see caramel macchiato guy standing at the other side of the table, looking like he was waiting for something. He managed a “huh?” as he met the man’s (frankly gorgeous) blue eyes, with an adorable strawberry-red birthmark to the side of the left one.
“I said, do you mind if I sit here? There aren’t any other seats left.” He smiled shyly, showing a row of perfect white teeth. Eddie gazed around the café and saw that he was right. The seat across from him was the only one left in the entire place. It had been empty when he arrived, but he’d obviously been too engrossed in his reading to even notice that it had filled up quickly.
“No, go ahead.” He gestured to the empty seat, and the blond sat his coffee on the table, then sat himself down on the chair. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you the first time.” He apologised, then mentally kicked himself for doing so. This was a complete stranger. A beautiful stranger, but a stranger, nonetheless. He didn’t owe him anything, not even an apology for being distracted.
“Don’t worry about it, you seemed to be in a world of your own. That’s the sign of a good book, though, when you can shut out everything around you, I always think.” Eddie raised an eyebrow and nodded. This guy was full of surprises. A gym bro, a sweet tooth and someone who read, apparently for fun. “Sorry, I’m Buck. And I’m rambling on, as usual.”
“Must be the caffeine and the sugar.” Eddie tried to joke, and, surprisingly, Buck laughed. “I’m Eddie.”
“Probably, I really should cut down, but it tastes so good!” He smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. When he put his cup back down, Eddie pressed his lips together so that he wouldn’t laugh at the whipped cream decorating Buck’s top lip and the tip of his nose.
“You got a little...” He managed to force out, and Buck looked a little embarrassed as he wiped his face with his napkin.
“Sorry, messy eater. But it’s nice to meet you, Eddie.” He replied, holding his hand out for Eddie to shake, which he did. Closing the book, because it had become apparent that Buck wanted to talk, he picked up his bag, but before he could put his hand on his book to slide it in, Buck had picked it up and was examining it like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Who does that? Just takes a relative stranger’s stuff and looks at it?
"The Institution by Evan Nash...is it any good? I’ve heard good reviews, but I like to hear from actual people, not reviewers whose job is to blow smoke up the author’s ass.” Flipping through the pages, being careful not to disturb the bookmark that Eddie had just used to mark his place, he furrowed his brow and then went back to the first page, scanning the words written on it.
“Yeah, uh, I really like his work. This is his third book, I liked the first one, but the second one I absolutely love, I think I’ve read it three times now. The way he structures it so you can’t even guess who the killer is until the last moment, and then, when you read it again, you pick up the subtlest of clues, just a word or two in the middle of a chapter, and it makes you go ‘how did I miss that ?’, you know?” Eddie gushed about his current favourite author. “I wanted to try and finish this one before this evening, he’s doing a signing at the independent bookstore down the street, apparently one of his friends owns it or something? Anyway, it just came out yesterday, and I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, trying to finish it in two days.” He laughed. “I mean I’m fast, but I’m not that fast!”
“It looks like a good read.” Buck slid the book back over the table, and Eddie shoved it into his bag. “So, do you have to read them in order or are they standalone?”
“Uh, you can read them in any order, they’re not linked at all.” He assured the other man. Picking up his own cup, he pressed it to his lips, then made a face when he realised that his coffee had gone cold. “Time for another, I think.”
“Let me get it, what are you having?” Buck offered. Eddie shook his head, but Buck insisted that it was the least he could do, considering he’d invaded his space. “Americano?” He asked as he peered at the remains of the coffee in the cup. “Splash of creamer, and...you look like a no-sugar guy.” What did that even mean? How could he look like a “no-sugar guy”? As if reading his thoughts, Buck gave him a wide grin that made Eddie’s stomach do a kind of flip-flop thing. “Your eyes, you’re intense, you like strong flavours, and don’t like sweet things.” OK, he was obviously guessing now, because that was total bullshit. Not the analysis, that was bang-on, but the thought that someone could figure out a coffee order just based on someone’s face. He opened his mouth to say so, but Buck had already stood up and was halfway to the end of the line before he could.
It seemed like no time at all before Buck was back, replacing the freezing cold cup with a steaming hot one, and sliding back down onto his own seat. The two of them sat and chatted about everything under the sun after that, the awkwardness seeming to have melted away, just from a simple gesture of buying a coffee. Eddie told him about his work as a firefighter, but missed the slight smile on Buck’s face when he mentioned that he was stationed at the 118 firehouse. He told him about his son and showed him his picture, to which Buck gushed that he was “adorable” and that he “loved kids”. Eddie fought back the urge to say that Buck was also adorable. God, half an hour they’d been there and he was already thinking about asking this guy on a date. Although he was probably straight, he gave off that vibe, and Eddie’s (normally reliable) gaydar had not pinged once throughout their whole conversation.
In turn, Buck told Eddie that he was originally from Minnesota, St Paul, where he’d grown up with his parents, brother and sister. His mom and siblings had passed away in a fire, but his dad had moved here and remarried, and he now had a stepbrother and stepsister that he loved. He was vague about what he did, but he worked from home, and said it was “some boring stuff that no one is ever interested in, but it paid the paid the bills”.
“Ah, crap, I better go, I’m gonna be late for a meeting.” Buck eventually exclaimed as his phone vibrated on the table, a reminder flashing up. “But it was great to meet you, Eddie, and I’ll be sure to check out those books.” He smiled, shaking Eddie’s hand again. “And you never know, we might meet again someday.” A quick wink and he was gone, Eddie watching him leave, kicking himself for not at least trying to get his number. The chances of him meeting this guy again in a city of almost four million was probably close to zero. Draining the last mouthful of his coffee, he picked up his napkin to wipe his mouth. It was around halfway from the table to his face before he saw a little black seeping through it, and unfolding it, he smiled as he read “call me! Something stronger next time? 😉” written on it, with a phone number scrawled underneath. It took him precisely five seconds to slide his phone out of his pocket and type the number into his contact list. He’d call tomorrow, didn’t want to look too eager, right?
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The line from the bookshop snaked around the block that evening, and Eddie was glad that he’d had the foresight to get there early, because it was a chilly night, even for Los Angeles. Pulling his sweater around him, he shivered. Then the door opened, the line moved, and Eddie was the last person to be admitted. The bookshop seemed to be letting people in twenty at a time. He ended up under the heater right by the door and moaned internally as the hot air blasted down on him. He could just stay there, right? He really didn’t need his book signed. Or he could just pass it down the line and wave at Evan Nash from there. Talking was overrated anyway. Feeling himself being shuffled forward, he mourned the loss of the heat, but it was suddenly replaced by nerves, and he didn’t know why. This was just an author, he was only there to get the book signed, a quick “hello, I’ve really enjoyed your books” and away. The nerves only intensified as he got closer, and, when he was third in the line, he looked up from his phone and over to the table holding a massive stack of books on each side. Evan was somewhere in the middle of them, his hand moving quickly as he signed each book, but that was the only thing Eddie could see until it was his turn. Being stood side-on stopped him from seeing his face. He took a step forward, still not able to see Evan, and was surprised when, instead of a book being handed to him, a takeaway cup came instead.
“Americano, little cream, no sugar, right?” Eddie took another step and turned to his right, his eyes meeting a pair of sparkling blue ones, a strawberry-coloured birthmark over his left eye, a wide, white grin below them. “Told you we’d meet again.” He smiled, signing the book while Eddie picked up the cup. “And tell my dad I said hi, you’ll see him before I do.” His...dad? How did he know... oh . Evan Nash from Minnesota...his captain at the firehouse, Bobby Nash from Minnesota...
Someone cleared their throat behind Buck, and he glanced back at them. “Sorry, they’re ready to let the next lot in. You free for dinner this weekend?”
“I’ll call you.” Eddie promised before he was ushered to the cash register to pay for his book, then back out of the store, although he took the opportunity to take another quick look at Buck before he left, and catching his eye, Buck winked and smiled at him quickly. Tomorrow, tomorrow they would talk again, arrange a first date...and he couldn’t wait.