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"You've got to be kidding me," Alexander mumbled as he fought to get the coin machine to take his crumpled five-dollar bill. All of his clothes were already soaked from tumbling in the communal washers, and he was fresh out of quarters.
Normally, four in the morning was Alexander's ideal time of day to head to the 24-hour laundromat to deal with his mass of clothes that he desperately needed to clean. No one was around to judge the shitty basketball shorts that he only wore out when nothing else was clean or his threadbare college t-shirt that was so faded you could barely read the "Columbia" printed across the chest.
Only problem was that this was his literal last five dollars and the stupid fucking machine wouldn't take it.
He tried everything. He held the bill taut and rubbed it against the edge of the machine to try to undo the horrific wrinkles. He pressed it against some of his wet clothes to get it just the tiniest bit damp before pressing it against one of the dryers that was already running, hoping that it would do something and help ease out the creases. He'd even pressed it into his law textbook that he had dragged with him to the laundromat under the guise of studying while he waited for his laundry.
Nothing had worked.
"It's just you and me, Abe," he said, trying once again to use the corner of the coin machine. "I cannot go home with wet socks. Please, Abe. I’m begging you."
The machine spit the bill out again and Alexander groaned.
"Doing alright?"
Alexander turned towards the stranger's voice. He hadn't heard the telltale ding of the door warning that someone else had entered the laundromat and was shocked to come face to face with an awfully cute man about his age standing there in his own laundromat best–flip flops, sweats, and a t-shirt that read "SL,UT".
"Uh," he said, blinking a few times. He'd just been talking to the five dollar bill in his hand. "The machine won't take my money."
The stranger chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, it's been giving me trouble the past few times I've come in," he said and started digging into his pocket. "I started going to the bank to get rolls of quarters to avoid it, but obviously it's too early for a bank run."
He held out his hand to Alexander, who didn't move to take what he was being offered and was instead focused on the freckles that dotted the stranger's cheeks.
"Come on," the stranger said with a smile, his dimples making those freckles dance. "Unless you want to go home with wet socks."
"Oh," Alexander managed once he realized what he was being offered. He held out his hand, and the other man dropped several quarters into it. "Thanks."
"No problem," he said, turning to the washer that wasn't too far from the dryer that Alexander had moved his stuff to.
Once he dumped the quarters into the dryer and got the cycle started, Alexander turned back to the other man. "I'm Alex," he said. "So, uh, you come here often?"
This earned him a laugh from the stranger. "Yes, this is the laundromat closest to my apartment, though I have to say I'm not usually here so early," he said as he started to move his wet clothes to a dryer, the dryer right next to the one Alexander had put his clothes into. "My name's John."
"So what's the occasion then?" Alexander said and smiled back at him. He hopped up onto the top of the washer next to where John's clothes were. "Why are you here at buttfuck o'clock in the morning?"
"Ran out of clean underwear," he said with a grin. "Plus I've been having some pretty bad bouts of insomnia lately. Figured if I'm up, I might as well be productive and there's few other chores I can do at four in the morning without annoying everyone in my apartment complex."
Alexander nodded his agreement; he was no stranger to insomnia. "Is the 'slut' shirt your standard laundry uniform?"
He watched as John's cheeks went pink as he glanced down at his shirt. "Shit, I forgot that's what I was wearing," he said. "A friend got it for me a while ago. He thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen out in Salt Lake City–a 'slut' shirt from the city of Mormons."
“Ah,” Alexander said with a grin. He enjoyed how pink John’s cheeks were getting. “I get it. That explains the comma. You ever been that far out west?”
John shook his head. “Nah, I’m very much an East Coaster,” he said as he finished moving his wet laundry to the dryer. After dropping in his own quarters and getting the machine running, he leaned against one of the unused dryers to face Alexander. “I’m from South Carolina. How about you? Born and raised New Yorker?”
It was Alexander’s turn to shake his head. “Born and raised in the Caribbean if you can believe it,” he said with a little shrug. “Came to New York for college.” He pointed to his shirt and watched as John squinted his eyes to read the faded letters. “Now I’m in law school and so four a.m. laundromat runs are where I get my best studying done.” He pointed to his textbook, which sat on the countertop not too far from where the two of them were chatting.
“I hope I’m not getting in the way of your studying then,” John said. “I can always go take a lap of the neighborhood if you want some privacy.”
Alexander immediately shook his head. “No!” he said, maybe a little too forcefully. He watched as John’s eyes went wide in surprise before softening. “You’re much better company than Constitutional Law: A Contemporary Approach. I’d much rather be talking to you than Maggs and Smith.”
“Oh, I’m so honored,” John said, sarcastically but with a smile. “I’ve always wanted a handsome man to tell me I’m more fun to be around than a law textbook.”
“You think I’m handsome?” Alexander teased in return, ignoring how red he knew his own cheeks must be getting. “In my best basketball shorts?”
“They are doing wonders for your calves,” John said with a wink.
They both devolved into giggles at that; the early morning of it all getting the best of them the way that it does at a child’s sleepover. Eventually, the dryers buzzed that they were done and the two of them dumped their clothes into their respective laundry bags. Alexander would have normally spent the time folding his clothes coming out of the dryer, but when he noticed John wasn’t, he followed suit.
“Can I walk you home?” Alexander asked as John cinched his bag shut and hiked it up onto his shoulder. “You said you live closeby.”
John blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised by the offer, but he smiled and nodded. “I’d like that a lot, actually,” he said. “Thanks, Alex.”
As they headed out, the sun was starting to rise, though it was hard to tell through all of the high-rises around them. Alexander let John lead the way, his heavy bag awkwardly over one shoulder and his textbook under the opposite arm. He silently cursed having brought it, wishing he had a free hand that he could either use to help manage his bag or maybe even hold John’s hand.
John’s apartment building was less than a block away, and soon they were coming to a stop outside. “This is me,” he said, and Alexander couldn’t help the disappointed look on his face. “It was great to meet you, Alex. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
“Yeah,” Alexander said. “Maybe.” He tried not to sound too disappointed to be saying goodbye.
“Oh, one more thing,” John said, setting his laundry bag down on the New York City sidewalk for a moment.
“Woah, you shouldn’t leave that on the side-”
He didn’t have a chance to finish his thought before John’s lips were on his, his hands holding onto Alexander’s cheeks. Alexander immediately returned the kiss, his arms aching from the effort of holding his own bag and textbook, unable to grab hold of John in any way. It felt as if time froze for that moment.
A jogger ran past them and nearly tripped on John’s bag, causing the world to start moving again. John pulled away and quickly grabbed his laundry before disappearing into the apartment building, leaving Alexander standing breathless on the sidewalk. He blinked a few times, desperately trying to process what had just happened, before realizing that he had failed to get John’s number.
“Well, shit,” he muttered before making his walk home.