In Plain Sight (manxman) "Temporarily On Hold"

Chapter 13 Fall for You

Chapter 14

David

Sunday afternoon found us heading back to the City.  It was like a whole different world compared to Elliott's family home, where you enjoyed spectacular views of the green grass, the blue of the water, and the relaxed atmosphere of non-city life.  It was something I craved more and more which reminded me of the fishing weekend up in the Catskills that I bought at the charity auction after the show.

"Do you fish?" I asked, obviously before thinking as I walked him up the steps to his apartment.  He grinned and let out a low chuckle.  "I mean...shit...I'm sorry.  I just...I have this fishing weekend...up in the Catskills...I was...I mean, it's just a weekend away...you don't even have to fish...do you...shit...I'm so stupid."  I stopped just inside the door to the building and leaned back against the wall.  "I'm so bad at this," I sighed, feeling utterly defeated.  All cool guy driving the slick jaguar fell out the window leaving the equivalent of an awkward 14 year old floundering in his wake.

Elliott walked back to where I was pouting against the wall and his fingers trailed down my arm until he reached my hand, which he took in his.  "It's okay, you don't have to walk on egg shells around me.  I thought it was funny.  Are you asking me to go away with you to the Catskills?"

I nodded wordlessly, still berating myself internally.  Shit!  "Yes," I said out loud.  "I want...if you want...will you come with me...we can go any weekend over the next year, but...I was hoping we could go sometime soon."  This is why I'm a model, not an actor, I thought to myself.  I can't talk for shit!

"I'd love to."  Elliott had this delicious, slow drawl.  Like he caressed every syllable, even 3 words captivated me as I watched his lips move and I felt like a moth drawn to a flame.

"Really?" I winced as my voice sounded like an excited twelve year old.  Yeah, David.  Thank god you've got the looks, just keep your damn mouth shut!

"Yeah," he said grinning, "I'll even go fishing if you bait my hook."

"Of course!  I'd love to bait your hook!"  D'oh!

Elliott let out a hearty laugh and pulled my hand.  "Let's go upstairs.  My turn to make you dinner."  I followed him, shaking my  head.  How does this guy, so effortlessly, turn me into a bumbling idiot.  "Will you open the bottle of wine on the counter," he asked as we walked in.  "That was the one I was supposed to bring to your place, by the way."

"Sure," I chuckled, heading over to the counter.  I found the cork screw and some glasses and by the time Elliott had come back after dropping his stuff in his bedroom, I had two glasses poured.  "So, you can cook too?" I asked.  "What aren't you good at?"  Shit, he had more talents than most sighted people.

Elliott walked over and turned on the oven, which had braille labels on it and an electronic voice that announced the temperatures as he worked the buttons.  "I have to be honest.  I'm not a terribly good cook, but..." he said with a pause, "I have this lady down the street who is a gourmet chef.  She operates a service, making homemade, awesome meals for people who can't or don't have time to cook.  She keeps my freezer full of amazing food.  She even has a special braille label maker, just for me."  He opened the freezer and began rattling off different choices and we both decided on a classic; Shepherd's Pie. 

We decided to put on a movie and relax while our dinner heated up.  I still found it weird, that he liked movies and I wondered if he just chose the activity for my sake.  We were both tired after the drive back through a fair amount of city traffic - everyone coming back after the weekend, so it was nice just hanging out with him and not feeling like we had to make conversation.  Every now and then I'd tell him something that was happening or he would ask questions about it.  But it was a comedy and most of the funnier parts had to do with the dialogue, so he laid his head back on the sofa with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, chuckling at the boorish humour.  I sat on the same sofa, against the side watching him more than the movie.  Like an attentive puppy, observing his every move waiting for him to throw me a treat.  But everything he did was a treat.  The way the sides of his eyes crinkled when he laughed, watching his pink, full lips as he moistened them with his tongue, the baritone sound of his deep chuckle.