I examined myself in the mirror one last time before I left my apartment. My brown hair was tied in a low pony tail and my outfit was casual, but calculated. The colors served as a good contrast to my pale skin and brought out my green eyes. I took care to stay in shape, and my appearance was something I was confident about. It was something I knew I had going for me for my date that night.
My experience had been mostly limited to one-night stands and hookups via Grindr for much of my adult life, but a few months ago I got the strange urge to give the dating game a try. I've had boyfriends in the past, but it was always casual. I was 25; the wild, reckless days of my youth were coming to an end. Settling down was starting to have a little appeal. I began online dating, and all the matches so far had led to sex and no real urge to go on another date. I didn't really have any reason to think this new guy was going to lead to something different, but I still wanted to put my best foot forward.
I was able to drive to the Italian restaurant he had chosen in about ten minutes. It was in the same building as an apartment complex and I had never eaten there before. When I walked in I found my date.
"Hey, Vik." I said. He grinned and returned the greeting.
"Hey, Alice."
I winced slightly. I have never had a good relationship with my name. I had no idea why my parents decided to give me such a strange burden; they seemed to like me just fine otherwise. They told me that I was named after Alice Cooper, but I am firmly of the opinion that Alice is a 100% female name. I insisted that everybody call me Al. I put that as my nickname on my dating profile and just included my real name as an aside so I could deal with it as early as possible.
"Please just call me Al. I'm not calling you Viktor," I reminded him.
He tilted his head slightly. "Oh come on, Alice is such a cute name. It suits you."
Oddly enough, I didn't hate the way my name sounded that much when he said it.
I sighed. "Do what you want."
As he got to the front to get us a table, I looked him over. He looked just like he did in the pictures he had on his profile: same short blond hair and cleanly shaven face. He was tanner than me and about two inches taller than I was, around 6'1". The only thing that surprised me was his eyes. The pictures didn't do them justice. As impossible as it sounds, they were a stormy gray, yet somehow warm at the same time. They were definitely the most striking thing about him; otherwise, he had a very clean-cut, professional appearance. Not normally my type, but he was still handsome, and we did match on the dating site.
When we got to our table, he pulled out my chair for me. It was a weird gesture, considering we were both men, but I just chalked it up to him wanting to be polite.
The two of us had dinner, and I can safely say that we were able to keep up a conversation and interact with each other just fine. We had similar tastes in music and TV, and our senses of humor complemented each other, his more playful, mine more cynical.
I kept track of how his demeanor changed as the night progressed. He seemed to get comfortable with me pretty early, his tone becoming more familiar and informal about halfway through the meal. Our table was on the small side, and he laid his hand down next to mine, keeping it there when I didn't have any reaction. A few minutes later he moved his hand, so it lightly rested on my own. He was being affectionate and tactile before he knew me for very long at all. I could tell that he was attracted to me.
Normally this was a red flag, but I let it happen because I was attracted to him, too, more and more so as the date continued. Most of the time, the earnest, nice-guy archetype was a little boring to me. I wanted something different, something exciting, but he put in the effort to treat me like a friend as well as a date. It was...nice. If nothing else I knew that we could be friends if the dating didn't lead to anything.
When the check came, he reached for it without batting an eye. I told him that I was perfectly content to split the bill.
"No." That was it, just a one-word response, like it was already decided.
"Why not?" I asked, just as bluntly.
"Because I'm treating you."
With gay men, there's usually the unspoken rule of "you invite, you pay." Vik had chosen the restaurant, so it made sense that he would offer to foot the bill, but the way he casually shot down my suggestion to go Dutch made me think that that nicety didn't really factor into his decision. Like pulling out my chair for me, it didn't seem like a calculated move, though.
While we were waiting for the bill, I thought about how the night went as a whole. He was different, for sure, but he was also refreshing. He made he want to explore further.
We were in front of the restaurant when he got really close to me and looked me square in the eye. His gray eyes sparkled playfully.
"I had a great time tonight," he said.
"Me, too," I replied, and I meant it.
He leaned in like he was going to kiss me, but halfway through he changed his trajectory so the kiss landed on my forehead. It was sweet, but really weird, not to mention that he was being a tease. I narrowed my eyes at him and he smiled.
"You wanna stop by my apartment?"
That was much more direct than I had expected. I wasn't opposed to the idea, but if he was going to play games, I would gladly play them, too.
"I don't know...I'm kind of tired..."
He kissed me again, this time on the cheek. "You could rest at my apartment. It's closer than your place." We didn't know each other's addresses at that point.
"And you know that how, exactly?"
"Because I live in this building."
I crossed my arms. "That's why you picked this restaurant, huh?"
He leaned in and kissed me on the nose. Getting warmer.
"Well, the food's good."
He wasn't bad at flirting. It was Saturday night and I wanted to go to his place, but I continued playing hard to get.
"I'm not sure..."
"Okay, can I say one more thing to try to convince you?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Without a word he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me properly.
I've kissed many men in the past. When the sexual energy is high, a kiss can be explosive and fiery. This wasn't like that. When Vik kissed me it wasn't hot as much as warm, but it was a powerful warmth. It was a warmth that seeped into my entire body. He didn't use tongue or even open his mouth, but it was startling how strong of an effect it had on me. It didn't set me on fire, but it made me melt a little.
After about ten seconds he pulled away. I paused for a moment.
