BookCrossing

~tarotgal

Part of my ‘Strokes’ Series

PG/PG13

 

            Turbo returned to their table with his arms full of plates, containers and cups. “Grab something quick,” he instructed with some urgency in his voice.

 

            The three unloaded him, setting their lunch out on the small, circular table of the coffee shop before sorting and dividing it up based on who ordered what. That step always took longer than it should have, as after a long wait no one could ever remember exactly what they’d ordered in the first place. A trip to the counter to talk with Marie usually straightened out disputes, but today they were all happy with their meals.

 

            “What would you say to a Roman-themed night at the club?” Sweetie floated the idea timidly, gauging Turbo’s reaction closely.

 

            The reaction started with a stern look but lightened after a few moments. “Togas aren’t exactly hot, but I’ve got a great new age band that can really work crowds. And if you’re talking about the whole experience, I could go for that. Lots of wine, communal baths, virginal rites, sexy slave boys—”

 

            “Leave it to Turbo to sneak slave boys into any situation,” Olly said, laughing just before taking the first sips of his double-shot espresso.

 

            Turbo’s cheeks went ablaze with embarrassment and he caught Jamie’s eye briefly. His chin retreated into his pure black scarf before he turned his attention down to his sandwich. Turbo’s sexual kinks weren’t much of a secret in their circle, but it still embarrassed him a little when someone brought them up in front of a newcomer. Even though Jamie was going to be moving into the mansion soon to be nearer to Sweetie, he still felt like the new guy to the group.

 

            Sensing the discomfort, Sweetie tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

 

            Olly grinned with a little too much giddiness. “Guy in the sweater, you mean?” Sweetie nodded. Jamie and Turbo glanced over at the next table for the first time. “Yeah, he’s definitely a cutie.”

 

            “Why don’t you go talk to him then?” Jamie asked Olly, sounding encouraging. “He looks like he could use some company.”

 

            Olly shook his head at once, looking down in his lap. “I couldn’t. If he wasn’t… I mean, I wouldn’t know what to say even if…”

 

            Sweetie leaned to the side, into Jamie. “Olly’s never had good gaydar,” he explained. “Never developed properly. Comes from the fact that pretty much the only people he’s ever around are gay. And he’s got an overwhelming fear of rejection.”

 

            “I have not!” Olly hissed as Jamie chuckled softly and Turbo shrank back from the conversation before they turned on him to make the next move.

 

            “Oh, you do so!” laughed Sweetie. “Which is why you never go out on dates.

 

            Olly tried, “No, I never go out because I’m so busy with work—”

 

            “Right. So busy,” Sweetie said sarcastically. “Which is why you’re able to find the time to lunch with us five times a week.

 

            Olly muttered something he didn’t mean for anyone to catch. Then he glanced sideways at the man again. A bluish knit sweater and dark brown corduroy pants. Dirty-blond hair that was sort of shaggy and came down past his ears. Boyish good looks. Clean-shaven and soft features. He couldn’t quite see eye color, for the man was reading a novel that lay flat upon the table and his head was bent downwards.

 

            “Hey,” Sweetie said, snapping Olly back to attention by lightly touching his arm. “You were staring at him just now, weren’t you?”

 

            Although he supposed it was obvious, Olly shrugged and nodded. “He doesn’t want company,” he insisted.

 

            “Won’t know unless you try,” Jamie said, echoing his boyfriend’s sentiment.

 

            “I’m not that kind of guy. I’m not going to try!” Olly laughed, drinking down the last of his coffee and wishing he had more, even though his leg was jiggling up and down beneath the table now.

 

            “Good for you,” Turbo said finally, though he had a strange smile on his face and he was fingering the end of his scarf which had settled in the center of his chest. “You see a cute, presumably gay man and instead of even giving it a try, you completely dismiss the possibility that you two might hit it off. If this is how you always are, Olly, it’s a wonder you even have hope of getting any again.”

 

            Olly scowled, but only because he knew he was being foolish and that his friends were right about this. “I get plenty,” he retorted.

 

            “You need a real guy. Taking care of yourself in the showers at the clinic and occasional blowjobs in the backroom of Strokes don’t count,” said Turbo, who was able to be blunt and open about anything that didn’t directly concern his personal life.

 

            Sweetie instinctively shushed him, and Marie behind the counter gave them the eye which meant she’d caught the gist of what had been said. They were sitting close to the counter, and equidistant from the side wall and the front window, so it was doubtful anyone in the café had heard the remark.

 

            Olly sighed and shrugged. “I don’t have time for a real guy right now.” Olly glanced over at the other table to see that the guy had finished and was gathering up his things to leave. He had a small pile of papers and books, as well as the trash from his meal and a coffee cup that he seemed to want to hold onto, because when he stood to toss away his trash, he had to jump and lean at an angle so that he could get his trash in without dropping any of this other things.

 

            Olly’s gaze shifted from the man who was walking out the door to the café back to the table where he spotted a book. A shudder ran through him at the realization. “Guys? The cutie just left his book,” he informed his friends.

 

            In a moment, they were all poking and prodding him and urging him quite forcefully to go after the man and give the forgotten book back to him. And before Olly knew what was happening, he was walking briskly out of the café with the book in his hands.

 

            Olly had no trouble at all in spotting the man, who wasn’t even as far as the end of the block yet. In fact, he was barely to the edge of the café’s premises. “Hey!” he called, and the man stopped and threw a look over his shoulder. Olly had no choice but to hurriedly jog over, holding the book up in explanation. “You forgot this,” he said.

 

            Then man turned and smiled, and Olly had to work hard not to melt right then and there in the presence of adorable dimples. “No I didn’t,” he replied. Then he pointed to the book. “Check it out.”

 

            Slightly confused but curious, Olly turned the book over to the front and opened it up. There was a small piece of paper taped on the inside cover of the paperback with a picture of a running book on it. The rest of the print was small and Olly wasn’t at all good at skimming. So he read until he got the general idea.

 

Read and release me! I’m a very special book. You see, I’m traveling around the world making new friends. I hope I’ve met another friend in you…

 

            “Oh,” he said, reading the words ‘BookCrossing’ and trying to think about where he’d heard that before. He thought he remembered a mention of it on NPR but wasn’t entirely certain. “So you meant to leave it.”

 

            The man nodded, then he asked, “Do you like mysteries?” Olly nodded back, not knowing what to say. “Well this is a good one. Guaranteed to keep you guessing right up until the end. And it’s yours now, if you want it.”

 

            Olly looked down at it, suddenly holding it more like a most prized possession now than anything else. “Yeah, I would. Thank you.”

 

            The man waited to make eye contact with Olly, then he smiled. “If you go to the BookCrossing website and type in that number on the tag there, you’ll see that book’s travel history and its last owner, me.” He took a deep breath, and went on. “You can get to my user information and my e-mail if you want to drop me a line to discuss the book or anything.”

 

            “I… might just do that,” he said. And he tapped the book. “Thanks.” Then, before he knew what he was doing, he was talking again as though channeling his lunch companions. “So do you always pick up guys with books like this?”

 

            The man laughed, his mouth wide and his eyes sparkling. “I’ve been leaving books around for a couple of years now, and you’re actually the first person to be sweet enough to run after me and try to return one.”

 

            Olly snorted lightly. “First person to be stupid enough not to read the note inside first, you mean.”

 

            The man shrugged. “Well, if you hadn’t come after me, I wouldn’t have had a chance to do this.” He leaned forward and quickly pecked Olly’s cheek. Then he pulled back and turned to go. “Drop me a note whenever you find time. No hurry. Let me know what you think of the book, okay?”

 

            Olly nodded, almost mesmerized by the sensation. “Absolutely,” he agreed. As he watched the man, who was just as gorgeous from behind as from the front, walk away down the street, he heard a loud slap to his side. He looked over to see Sweetie, Jamie and Turbo sitting at their table by the window, clapping and cheering for him. They were disturbing everyone in the café with the noise, but Olly was grateful for such enthusiastic encouragement. It certainly went a long way in building up his confidence. Of course, the kiss on the cheek had helped that as well. Now cradling the book as though it were a precious baby, he headed back into the café, waving to the others to get them to calm down.