at my computer with my tattered notebook in hand and wrote until the sun came up. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always done my best thinking during the quiet, not quite morning hours when the rest of the world is asleep. That time of day feels like some kind of pocket dimension, separate from everything else, when only the most interesting things can happen. It just so happens that sometimes those interesting things are a lot of words being written.
I must’ve dragged myself to bed and passed out sometime just after dawn though because now the sun is bright, and my eyes feel like sandpaper. I sit up in bed and run my hands over my face and through my hair. Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I check the time to make sure I didn’t accidentally leave Bishop hanging. I breathe a sigh of relief when the clock shows it’s only eleven-thirty. No time for a shower, but at least I didn’t oversleep.
I push my blankets back and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My half-hard cock bounces between my legs as I get up and make my way across the room to my dresser. While I throw on some clothes, I mentally practice what I want to say to Bishop. My stomach fills with familiar butterflies. This is always a nerve-wracking talk to have with people I’m interested in, and I am definitely interested in Bishop. The conversation is going to be a little different this time, but that doesn’t make me any less nervous about it.
I tug a shirt over my head and glance over at my bed, picturing him there like he was last week. He has such a nice smile. I want the chance to find all the ways to draw it out. I want to learn what kinds of movies he likes and what his favorite foods are. I want to know what he does for fun and for work. And I really want to learn all the different ways to make him moan.
Fuck, I want him to like me.
The cafe where I asked him to meet me isn’t far, so I decide to walk. As I near the shop, I spot Bishop waiting outside for me. He’s leaning against the brick exterior, his hands stuffed into his pockets, staring into the distance with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Hey,” I say once I’m close enough. He whips his head around, and a slow smile creeps over his lips.
“Hey.”
He pushes off the building and approaches me a little awkwardly. I don’t blame him. This is a little weird. We’ve spoken exactly twice.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up or not,” I admit, holding the door open for him and waving him through.
“You were vague enough that I couldn’t help but be curious,” he admits.
“Then my plan worked perfectly,” I joke with a grin.
We both order drinks, I pay, and then we snag a table in the corner so we can talk.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” Bishop asks as soon as we sit down. He takes a sip of his coffee and eyes me with curiosity.
“Right to the point, I get it,” I say with a smile. I prefer the direct approach. Once we get this part of the conversation out of the way, hopefully we can enjoy our coffee date and get to know each other a little. “This is one of those things that I’m never sure at what point I should reveal to people I’m interested in. Normally, I might try to get to know each other a little more first, but when you said you’re in love with two guys, I kept thinking about it after you left, and I realized I needed to lay it all out there. The way I see it, even if you aren’t interested in a repeat of the other night, at least you might need a friend to talk to,” I ramble. Fuck, you’d think all the mental rehearsing I’ve done would’ve given me a more focused way to present this.
“I have no idea what you’re getting at,” he says.
“Right, sorry.” I give him a wry smile as a way of apology. Writing words is so much easier than talking words. “I’m just going to put it out there; I’m polyamorous.”
I take a sip of my coffee and give him time to process. Bishop stares at me, his own drink halfway to his mouth. Confusion is written