Page 13 of Sin Deep
That smile was so sweet and genuine, all he could do was smile back. “Well, hello there. I hope your trip across town wasn’t too frustrating.” The East Village to Chelsea wasn’t direct unless the L train was running.
Harley sat with him. “No, sir. It was fine. You been waiting long?”
“Not at all, and the people watching has been extraordinary. But you look better than anyone I’ve been watching.”
That earned him a deep blush and a warmer smile. “Thank you. Do you know what you want? I’m happy to go order for us.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off Harley, so sweet. Lovely. “I haven’t the vaguest idea. Would you order? Just get me whatever you think I should have.” He pulled out his wallet. “On me.”
Harley shook his head and stood with another of those smiles that went right to his eyes. “Oh, no. I invited you. That means it’s my treat, right? I’ll be right back.”
I suppose so. He was almost embarrassed that he’d pulled out his wallet. Almost.
He watched Harley in line, and every so often their eyes would meet and one of them would smile and then Harley would blush all over again. Harley stepped up and ordered, pointing here and there like he knew exactly what he wanted, which only made him more endearing.
Harley headed back over with two Cokes. “They have Mexican Coke here! I love that. We’re close enough that I can hear our number. Do you like guacamole?”
“It’s been some time, but I believe I do. Is Mexican Coke very different from American Coke?” He’d never heard of such a thing. But Harley’s excitement was adorable.
“It so is. Mexican Coke is made with real sugar, not corn syrup. And the bottles are cool too.” Harley sat and grinned at him. “I am a guacamole fan, but I got two with it on the side, just in case.”
He picked up his Coke and took a sip. It was sweet, but then he wasn’t a Coke drinker, and all soda seemed sweet to him. He didn’t hate it though, and he took another sip, then gave Harley a nod. “Very nice.”
“It’s not something I want every day, but it’s a good treat. I drink a lot of water at work because I’m humping my butt.”
He imagined Harley, sweaty and working hard with all those lovely, lean muscles popping in his arms, and decided he’d best not let himself fantasize while sitting here with the boy; he was very likely to embarrass himself. But what a lovely thought for later, in the privacy of his own bath.
He’d best concentrate on repairing the damage he’d done the night before. “I have to say, Harley, that I’m surprised you wanted to have a meal with me tonight.”
“Really? I thought we were getting along pretty well for a bit last night, and you were nice enough to call.” Harley gave him a serious look. “Life is too short to hold onto stuff that hurts. I want to live every single second I have with people I enjoy being with. I like you, Winter Love. I think you’re interesting.” Then Harley’s head tilted. “That’s our number. I’ll be back.”
Winter stared after Harley, stunned at the boy’s honesty. He was right, life was short, and it wasn’t until he’d brought that water over last night that Winter started to realize how dull his own had become.
He caught Harley’s eyes on the way back to the table and as soon as Harley had set their food down, he caught the boy’s hand. “I like you too. I’d use your full name for emphasis as you did but I don’t actually know it. I’d like to though. I’d like to know a good deal more about you because you are also interesting to me.”
“Harley Nathaniel McBride, from San Saba, Texas, born and raised.”
Harley Nathaniel McBride. He liked that. It had a ring to it.
“A good, strong name. Very nice. I don’t have a middle name. I took my own name when I left home, and never felt the need for one.” Middle names were family names, and he didn’t have any family.
“Like you just made your own name up? How cool is that?”
It was once of the best decisions he’d ever made and also one of the scariest. “I made it up. And when I finally decided to stay in New York, I made it legal.”
“That’s cool. I never even thought about doing something like that.” Harley pushed over three tacos. “Chicken, pork, and beef. I went by Nathan when I was a freshman in high school. It so didn’t work. I’m a Harley.”
“I agree; you’re most certainly a Harley.” He scrutinized the tacos and picked up the beef one first. “These smell wonderful.” He took a bite and savored it, enjoying the strong flavors, the warm beef and the cool sour cream. All he could do was nod with his mouth full. “Mmm.”
“Rock on.” Harley added hot sauce and chowed down, the groan almost sexual.
“Delicious.” He took another bite, less interested in talking for the moment while he enjoyed his dinner. Something about all of this was just perfect. Harley, tacos, this ordinary, yet extraordinary place in Chelsea Market he would never have gone to on his own in a million years.
The Coke was perfect with the tacos, cutting the grease and the heat, and he got it. He suddenly got it, why Harley moaned like that.
He picked up the chicken taco. “This was such a good idea.” And he meant more than the food. He hadn’t felt this real…this confident and relaxed in quite some time.
He finished the chicken taco, and started in on the pork, which was juicy and spicier, and he found himself sucking the Coke faster.
