Alistair McClair, Seattle's #1 most eligible bachelor, has had a string of horrible breakups. 99 ex-girlfriends to be exact. And now was his time for a new match. But an issue arises in the matchmaking process, linking him up with a man. Alistair se...
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Calvin Fischer
The night of the art gallery, I experienced several different waves of emotions. When my ex appeared, for a moment, I was worried that the nightmares I had with him would come back and take me away.
But then, my savior came. Alistair was quick to save me and take me away from that place. It was the first time that he grabbed onto me. He protected me that night. Even after the altercation was over, he continued to let me hold onto him.
I knew that I had to make it up to Alistair. That week, I called him because I wanted to thank him. He tried to say that it was no problem, but I insisted.
That Friday, I entered his building and went up the elevator to his floor. Meredith was there to greet me, and she allowed me into Alistair's office. I sat in an empty chair and looked around his office.
His office was located on the third highest floor of the building. I could easily see out of the large window that was placed behind Alistair's chair. Probably to show people that he is the man of the sky. That in this building, he's God.
The walls of his building were partly covered in thick philosophical or classical literature books. There was a statue of the head of Venus on a pillar. On one of the walls next to the window was the painting that I made, that Alistair bought. The fact that he put it up in his office, for everyone to see, brought joy to me.
After waiting for a few minutes, the door opened and Alistair came walking in with a briefcase in hand.
"You came." He said, looking at me.
"Yeah. Did you forget?" I asked. He walked over to behind the desk and took his seat. He placed his briefcase on the desk.
"No." He said.
I grabbed my bag and also placed it on the table. "I brought food." I said.
"Lucky for you, I'm starving."
I smiled as I began to open the tupperwares and placed paper plates on the table. Alistair removed some likely important documents and placed them to the side. After laying out all the things, I opened the large tupperware.
"I made some lasagna. It's not Michelin star or made from cheese from a rare cow that only lactates in front of Beyonce. But it's homemade." I said.
"Homemade will always be better than a restaurant." He said. I cut a piece and placed it on his plate. Alistair unfolded a napkin and placed it on his lap. Before he ate, I used some hand sanitizer to clean his hand. I opted to do the same, just to be respectful.
I began to eat. Not to be biased, but I do believe my cooking is quite fantastic. I hope that he'll like it too.
"How is it?" I asked him. When I looked up, he had already eaten half of his share.
