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Online dating is something you’re considerably new to. Your friends pushed you to give it a go, one going as far as downloading the app on your phone for you, and while you weren’t too sure about the whole thing (well, really you were actually extremely anxious about it) you convinced yourself to try it. At the very least, you could gain a few new friendships along the way...so long as you aren’t murdered first.
(“You won’t be murdered,” one friend attempted to reassure you over your weekly lunch meetup. You more picked at your meal than ate it with the topic at hand. “The worst that can happen is someone thinking you’re weird.”
That is somehow even worse.)
It turned out to be a bust for a month, one person after another that you just couldn’t click with. You met a nice girl named Cassie, along with a very handsome man named Jeff, and while both of them didn’t work out very well romantically, you still occasionally go out for lunch or run errands with them some days so you assure yourself that you must’ve done something right. A part of you is always tempted to ask them what exactly it was that lead them to enjoying your company, seeing as maybe it could help you with your future endeavors- but you know that being interested in friendship differs vastly from a romantic venture. At least, you think it does.
Then you hit it off with a guy named Robert. He seems nice- in a genuine, not weirdly backhanded way you’re used to- when you two meet up outside a local place you never thought of visiting, and he has an easy time making you laugh even when he’s obviously just as nervous as you. You both admit to the other early on in the dinner that this whole dating app thing was something you were relatively new to and hesitant about, and without realizing it you had blurted out that a lot of your anxieties stem from how your brain works.
“Oh!” His eyebrows shoot up, and you feel like you just hit a pothole on the side of the road.
“Sorry,” you say, trying to hide your dread behind a pleasant expression- you’re sure it looks more strangled than anything else with the panic that was settling in your throat. “I usually wait until date four to, uh, spice things up like this.”
Robert laughs a bit. That’s a good sign, right? Your voice didn’t budge from its more flat tone, but he didn’t seem to notice all too much...or maybe he just didn’t mind.
The way he easily goes back into a casual conversation, making no odd remark or look towards this new discovery about you, is a welcome change to the usual reactions you get. Bare minimum? Most likely, but leagues above the Justin guy slowing down his words and near baby talking you after you tried to rip the bandaid off the first time.
The dinner is delicious, so much so that you knew you had to add it to your list of safe spots for meals, and Bo- he offered that name in place of Robert and you gladly took it, loving how quick and round it fell off your tongue- even asks if he can buy you dessert. At first you politely decline, you both were splitting the bill so you wouldn’t want to put anything unnecessary on his foot of it, but he simply shrugs it off and says he doesn’t mind.
“You look like you like your sweets,” He comments as he flags down a server, giving you a reassuring look. “My treat.”
So, that was how you two ended up sharing a nice and simple slice of chocolate cake. You caved in only on the condition that you could share, and he certainly wasn’t one to pass up the opportunity to a slice.
“The cake they serve here is,” he does a chef’s kiss, mouth full of the spongy chocolate. You can’t help but snicker at the small bit of frosting on the corner of his mouth. “I love coming here.”
That night he appears to be going the whole extra mile, down to the very cliché (you call it cliché, your friends say it’s expected) of offering to walk you home. Neither of you live very far from the restaurant, and you didn’t mind getting to see the last few moments of the sunset before you ended the date- nor did you mind the way his hand began gently resting on your mid-back as you both walked at a leisurely pace, only occasionally sliding lower when turning a corner or having to make a stop for the crosswalk.
Your cheeks feel warmer the lower he gets, your body near jolting the first time around, and you notice in your peripheral how he glances down at you and presses his lips together to stop a smile. He bumps closer every so often against you, and every time, his subtle heat made you shiver against the contrast it had on the nippy breeze. Your mind is reeling for a moment- it has been ever since you left the restaurant, so when you both reach your apartment building and he stops to give his little goodbye, you turn to him.
“Do you want to have sex?”
Bo nearly blanches“...What?”
You blink, looking between him and your apartment. “We had a nice date. I like you. Do you like me?”
“I- Yes, yes I do- a lot-“ he runs his hand through his hair, the strands sticking up all over the place now while his eyes flick all around you. There’s a bit of relief in the back of your mind that he’s not making direct eye contact in that moment. “I like you a lot.”
Bouncing up a bit on the balls of your feet, you puff your cheeks before letting the air blow out in a thoughtful sigh. You really, really hope you’ve been reading this right. “Are you...interested in sex?”
Bo shifts on his own feet and bites his lip. He takes a moment to respond, as if he’s expecting something. “ Yyyeeees ?”
“Then if you want to, we can go to my apartment together.” you say, adding a smile at the end. When he doesn’t return it and instead shakes his head, you lose a bit of steam.
“Sorry- wait. I didn’t- I didn’t make you feel like you have to have sex with me right?” he almost backs away, hands raised slightly in the air. You’re both frowning now. “Because I’m perfectly fine with not...having it.”
Now you're second guessing yourself. You were sure these were the correct signals- the constant brushing up against you, hand placements, the way he spoke to you- as signs that someone is seeking more, and you yourself do want more. Maybe you were wrong?
“I’m also perfectly fine with not having it.” you echo, and he seems to watch you as closely as you’re watching him. “If you don’t want to, I don’t mind, there’s no pressure.”
Bo’s mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. “Well. I wouldn’t say...I wouldn’t say I don’t want to.”
“...Then…?”
Bo coughs into his fist once, then twice. His cheeks are turning a rather cute shade of pink. “I...would be very interested in sexing you.” His eyes widen. “Having! Having sex. With you.” He’s almost squirming where he stands, his hands shoving into his pockets only to leave them immediately and pull at the ends of his sleeves. “Sorry, I’m...it’s usually not so direct.”
“Oh,” you furrow your brows and frown to yourself. “Sorry, I...I tend to be like this a lot.” You force a little laugh.
Waving his hand, he shakes his head. The tips of his ears are joining his cheeks now. “No, direct is good. I like direct.”
You slowly nod along, a sheepish grin growing across your face as he got more and more flustered. “Right. We can do some sexing in my apartment, then. Or just watch a movie.” You pause mid finger gun, hands dropping into halfhearted raptor arms. “And I do just mean watch a movie.”
He ends up laughing at that, scratching the side of his neck as he follows you up to the entrance. “Both seem pretty good.”