Human’s Only

“OH MYGod, he’s back,” Dewey whispered. “Be cool, be cool….”

“The guy with the widow’s peak?” Lena asked with forced casualness. “He didn’t show yesterday—he usually has a dad joke for me when he comes in. I think he googles them.”

Dewey gave her an exasperated look. “Of course he googles them, Lena. He’s been trying to flirt with you for a month.”

“You think?” she asked, with a visible effort not to seem pleased. “That’s sweet. Maybe he’ll come in today. It’s usually later, though. Really?”

Dewey shook his head. God, only the clueless, right?

“So if it’s not the guy with the widow’s peak,” Lena murmured, “which guy are you… ooh….” She made a little moue. “Mr. Track Star over there?”

“He’s a soccer coach,” Dewey said with dignity. “And he’s a good guy. He got stood up for a lunch date yesterday, and I think he’s back for another try.”

Lena stared at him. “So, you’re all excited about the guy who can’t get a Grindr hookup?”

Dewey tried to wave her away like a mosquito. “I don’t think he’s good with dating apps,” he said. “And, you know, yesterday’s date didn’t show, so maybe today’s date won’t show—”

“And maybe he’ll give the barista a chance,” Lena concluded dryly.

“Stranger things have happened,” Dewey said. “Now can I go take his order or not?”

Lena wiggled her fingers toward Trey, the soccer coach, who was studying the paper slip of specials as they were speaking. “May he be stood up again,” she intoned.

“You’re a peach,” Dewey said happily and bustled around the counter. “You look tired,” he said as he walked up, and then he cursed himself. Way to pick up on the cute guy, right?

Trey gave him a warm smile, although his eyes really were a little red-shot. “Yeah, it’s been a weird two days.”

“Got another date?” Dewey asked, knowing he wasn’t being subtle but not caring.

Trey shook his head. “No time,” he said lightly. “But my cousin said I missed out on your sandwiches, and I thought, hey, it’s my lunch break. I’ll bite.”

“Heh heh heh… bite.” Dewey gave him a cheesy grin, and Trey squeezed his eyes shut in an obvious attempt not to laugh.

“Well played,” he said.

“No bait is too high, no pun is too low,” Dewey said with a bow and a flourish. Trey laughed outright, and his grin touched the corners of his eyes this time.

“So,” Dewey continued when Trey’s laughter died down, “Give me your order and I’ll bring it back, and you can tell me why you’re losing sleep.” He paused. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

Trey wrinkled his nose. “Long story,” he said. “Feed me, entertain me, and I’ll save the heavy stuff for my aunt Nan. She’s been dying to read my chakras or do my tarot or whatever. It’ll be good for her.”

Dewey chuckled. “Your wish is my command,” he murmured. “Would you like to hear the specials?”

Trey listened dutifully, and when Dewey was done—with lots of extra flourishes, of course—he put in an order for a sandwich and “Whatever coffee thing I had yesterday. It was fine.”

While Dewey sent that to the kitchen, Trey said almost hurriedly, “Hey, when that comes out, if you’ve got a ten or something, I’d love some company.”

Dewey glanced up from his tablet and couldn’t help the predatory smile that crossed his features. “I think we can do that,” he said, and he very deliberately let his eyes roam the planes and angles of Trey’s face, cleaner cut today but no less appealing. “No tip necessary,” he added, and then he licked his lips.

Trey’s cheeks darkened a little, and he stared at his hands before biting his lip. “Awesome,” he said. “That’d be, uhm, great.”

“I’ll be back.”

Dewey practically danced back to the food-prep space behind the counter and started making Trey’s coffee.

“What?” Lena asked, coming up behind him to start running one of the to-go orders. “You look pretty damned giddy.”

“Can I take my ten in five?” he asked.

“What?” Lena almost fumbled the coffee pot she was reaching for.

“He wants me to sit with him.” It was all Dewey could do not to bounce on his toes and squeal.

Lena glanced around the place, seeing that their morning rush had almost faded. “So, like, all that cow-eyed flirting you did actually worked?”

“I know!” Dewey all but squealed. “Isn’t that wonderful? Look at him—he’s like a blank slate of dating. I could eat him alive.”

“I don’t want to know about your bedroom habits,” Lena said drolly. “But by all means. One of us should be making some time.” She sighed. “I hope widow’s peak guy comes back. I really missed him yesterday.”

“I’ll root for you,” Dewey said, because he tried to be a good friend. “But right now, my ten-minute break is the best date I’ve had in a year!”

Dewey made sure his guy’s sandwich looked like the layout for a magazine, and he added steamed milk in fluffy little dollops to the coffee—not as nice as the pictures he drew with cream in the lattes, but pretty nonetheless. Trey accepted his food with a shy smile and indicated the seat across from him.

“So,” Dewey said, “how many dating apps have you tried?”

“Only the one,” Trey said with a shrug. “Why would I try more when the first one got me a cute barista who felt sorry for me?”

Dewey laughed, like he was meant to, and tried another tack. “All right, then, why a dating app at all?”

Trey seemed to think about it. “Absolutely everybody I meet in my job is either taken or a student. And I don’t care if they’re in their twenties, someone I have power over is somebody I have power over, and no. Just….” He shuddered. “No. And you have to be, I don’t know, settled when you’re in a mentor position. Above reproach. Which is stupid because I know half the faculty is on their third marriage, and fidelity does not seem to be a thing. But that’s, you know, people. People are a mess. But we’re people who are supposed to be able to give students advice, so we have to sort of seem like we know what we’re doing. I guess I wasn’t ready to date until I felt ready to look like I knew what I was doing.”

Dewey swallowed, feeling a little out of his league. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he confessed, wanting to get this out now. “I’m still looking for a grown-up job! I mean, I’ve got my degree—took me six years, right? But grown-up job is a no. I make barely enough for rent to split a two-bedroom with my buddy, Ceej, and the good news is, he’s still in the bang-everything-that-moves stage of his life, so I don’t see him that often.”

“Bad roommate?”

Dewey shook his head. “No, he’s actually the best, but the apartment is really small. It’s like, I wouldn’t mind living in a small place with a boyfriend, but when we’re both home, we can hear each other jerking off through the walls, and … no. I would just rather not.”

Trey put his hand in front of his mouth in shock, and Dewey realized what he’d said and did the same.

“I’m sorry!” he said from behind his hand. “That was really blunt. I’m sorry! Please don’t be scared off. I swear, I’m not usually a potty mouth! Or, well, I can be,” he added, in an effort to be honest. He dropped his hand and tried to give a frank assessment. “Okay, yeah. I’m safe around children, but yeah, I guess I have been known to surprise people by what comes out of my mouth.” He chuckled. “But we’ve all known what would go in it from a very early age.”

Trey’s eyes widened again, and Dewey wondered if he should just keel over and die right now, because he seemed to be taking this one chance and screwing it up amazingly.

“Are you sure you’re safe around children?” Trey asked when he could talk, and Dewey nodded vigorously.

“As God is my witness, I’ve got nieces and nephews and haven’t taught a single one the F-word, and sex education is right off the table.”

The throaty, appealing sound rumbling up from Trey’s throat was hard to define at first—Dewey took a moment to swallow and hope before it hit him. Trey was laughing.

“Oh my God!” he chortled. “That was the most amazing recommendation I’ve ever heard! I mean, I guess as long as you haven’t murdered someone, you’re sort of on a roll.”

Dewey dropped his face into his arms and groaned. “This is the end of our dating relationship,” he moaned. “You can tell me. The river’s not that far away. I’ll wade out into the middle of it and nobody will ever hear from me again.”

“Well, that’s very Greek of you.” Trey was still coming down from laughing, pausing to wipe the corners of his eyes. “Maybe don’t go too tragic too fast. I’m sure we can still manage a trip to the movies without parents coming after me with torches and pitchforks, you think?”

“Trip to the movies?” Dewey asked hopefully.

“Or, you know,” Trey said, “a sporting event. But, uhm….” And again, that charming color in his cheeks. “Can’t hold your hand at the sporting events.”

Dewey blinked. “Why not?”

“Because sports don’t do that,” Trey replied matter-of-factly. “It’s….” He bit his lip. “It’s one of the hardest things about being in sports, really, on a professional level. But, you know, recently I’ve started wanting, uhm, more. Not all the sex like you want when you’re young. I mean, pro sports, someone’s always excited about getting naked, you know?”

Dewey chuckled, remembering a member of the school baseball team who used to really like blowjobs after games. Dewey had been happy to oblige. “Oh yeah,” he said, voice sinking to dirty levels.

Trey gave him a droll look. “I take it you’ve seen that in action.”

Dewey grinned. He couldn’t help it—penance had never been his thing. “I have absolutely zero regrets,” he said with satisfaction. Then he relented. “Except, maybe, not knowing how to take things seriously, you know? I’m… I’m starting to be ready for that. It’s just—” Everything he’d said in the last ten minutes hit him all at once, and his shoulders slumped. “—I don’t know how,” he admitted wistfully.

“Intentions don’t count in sports,” Trey said, and Dewey’s heart almost crashed to the floor. “But sports aren’t real life. A win’s good for the win, but relationships have to be different. At least I’ve always thought so.” He shrugged. “I don’t have that much more experience than you do there, I’m afraid.”

A silence settled then, and Dewey floundered. What to do now? Movies? Did he get to ask this handsome man with the appealing crinkles at the corners of his eyes out on a date? Was that how this worked? It had been so long since he’d had a date end anywhere besides “So, see ya ’round, maybe,” he wasn’t sure if the whole thing had changed, like internet slang, where if you missed a day at your forum, suddenly everybody was talking about a word you’ve never heard before.

“So,” Trey said, his voice like a cannon shot into the silence. “Movie, then?”

It took a moment for Dewey to get it. “So we can hold hands?” he asked.

Trey appeared very proud of himself. “Yeah.”

“Sure.”

And there was silence again then, but Dewey was pretty sure it was because he spent the moment lost in Trey’s derpy smile and a sort of sweetness in his eyes.

“SO, A DATE?”Ceej said that night when Dewey went out for a beer.

“Yeah,” Dewey said. “Movies. Ice cream afterward.” In his head he could picture Trey’s shy proposition. “Holding hands.”

“Do men do that?” Ceej asked. “I mean, even with women. Do they propose a date to hold hands? Do we have to give up our man card for that?”

“You do whatever you want with your man card,” Dewey said, taking a sip of beer. “I’m keeping mine tucked in my pocket and then holding hands with this guy.”

“Cute?” Ceej asked.

“You have no idea,” Dewey mooned. “So cute. And he’s, like, an athlete, so, you know.” He couldn’t help his pleased smirk. “Very fit.”

Ceej rolled his eyes and wiped off the counter. The rush had passed, and this was clean and stock time. “’Cause he’s a soccer coach. Got it. Closet case. Understood.”

Dewey frowned. “No. No, it wasn’t like that. He’s just… conscious of propriety, you know? Like, holding hands at movies but not at sporting events. Like a spouse could come to the soccer banquet with him, but you’d have to be living a thing and not just at the beginning of dating. Because that was, you know, what was appropriate for everybody. He’s very conscious that he steers young people, and what he does in public needs to be appropriate. That’s….” He paused and remembered some of the reckless things he and other boyfriends had done when he’d been younger. “Grown-up, I guess. Like, he never wants a soccer game to be about who he’s dating. It’s a soccer game, and it’s for the athletes, and his job is to coach them.”

Ceej scowled. “That’s hard to argue with. Makes for shitty headlines, but it’s hard to argue with. He’s probably boring.”

Dewey thought about that ten-minute break, how it didn’t matter what they were talking about—Dewey’s quest for a job or Trey’s hope his middle-school team could win a big tournament going down in two weeks—what mattered was the other person was listening, and how important it was that Dewey listened too.

“No,” he said simply. “I felt… I dunno. Seen.”

Ceej cocked his head. “You’re very pretty, Dewey. You’ve felt seen plenty.”

Dewey shrugged. “I’ve been felt up plenty, but I don’t know if I’ve felt seen.”

Ceej guffawed. “So does he know you do that thing—that Shakespeare thing? I mean, you gotta admit, for some guys it’s a selling point, but for some guys….” He made a face.

“Not so much,” Dewey admitted dryly. “Those are usually the dumb ones, you know. And for the record, he thinks I’m hilarious.”

Ceej didn’t laugh like Dewey expected him to. Instead, he glanced around the bar thoughtfully. Classwise it was pretty upscale, but as long as you could afford the drinks—and wore the right kind of shoes—the place didn’t care who you liked to go home with at the end of the day. Some same sex, some het, some transfolk—nobody making out in dark corners, but nobody hiding their mating objectives either.

“Gotta say,” Ceej murmured, “you could do a lot worse than have someone who laughs at your jokes, you know? I mean, check this place out. I’m pretty sure that’s all anybody is looking for.”

Dewey eyed him thoughtfully over his beer, and Trey’s face—laugh lines, faint scruff, dark eyes and all—filled his mind.

He laughed at Dewey’s jokes. He smiled and lit up when Dewey walked over to him in the café. Too good to be true? Maybe. But the movie was on Friday, and Trey had promised to be in the café tomorrow, which was Wednesday, and Dewey wondered how many more times he could make the nice man in the soccer sweats smile.