A Crossing of Man and the Gods

Chapter 4: Firsts

Chapter 4: Firsts

The weather, still on the fritz, brought about sleet, and a chilly wind which brought the temperature of 20° to a whopping 12°. To prepare myself with my date with Gerard, I had followed just about the same routine I had before I went to the club just a week ago. A little less self-loathing, I am happy to admit, but the same routine nonetheless. I had put on a semiformal bluish-grey button up with a silky black, and over top of it went a black sweater my mother had bought me for Christmas of maybe 2009, making this thing a little over four years old. I’m happy it still fits.

Giving the mirror a fleeting look, I huffed slightly at myself. I really hope this doesn’t make me look like a pretentious wannabe Goth ‘too edgy for you’ types. I thought I looked nice for once as I brushed my short hair over to the side once again. I straightened my facial piercings, and brushed off my sweater. I probably didn’t look like a 10/10, but I had definitely upgraded from a 2.

I had called Gerard Thursday to make sure he would be up for a get together so late. We had talked for about thirty minutes, and he sounded as excited as I was. He agreed to pick me up for what he also called our date saying he knew those tickets were probably expensive, so it was the least he could do. You can say I’m just star-struck, but either way you split it, he's quite the gentleman.

I slipped downstairs into the lobby, and waited for Gerard to show up. This is my first date ever, and my mind is racing. What about after the date? Would I give myself to him, too? What if he leaves without hesitation like Ray did? What if this turns into something platonic? I do want a friend, but I'd rather have Gerard as a boyfriend. Maybe I shouldn't be thinking in terms of the future -I should definitely keep myself here, in the present. I want to make tonight good, and whatever happens can't be changed, so there is no point stressing over it before I have to choose, and no point dwelling on it after. That, and I’m giving myself the creeps already planning on trying to get into a relationship with him, imagine what he’d think.

I picked at my nails and fingers with my teeth, gnawing on my skin. I've never been one to get anxious, but I felt the awful knots forming in my stomach. The butterflies’ wings had turned into razor blades, and they danced around in my stomach with more fervor than ever. It would be a lot easier if he just got here already and I didn't have to wait. Then it hit me, the worst thought I could possibly have in this situation. What if he stands me up?

I've got a couple minutes before 8 o'clock (I once again left work early), so I've got an hour or two before I'm officially stood up. Patting my hands on my legs so that way I didn't maul my fingers and mangle them more, I heard the purring of an unfamiliar car outside. I approached the door, peering out the exit subconsciously stuffing my fingers in my mouth.

Early evening darkness enveloped a small, sleek vehicle. It was obviously new, or at least in great condition. The engine of the machine hummed as someone stepped out of the car slowly. I glimpsed at the clock, and it read 7:56. Resident butterflies lurched forward in my stomach, presenting a less unpleasant tingling sensation than before.

The body advanced to the entry, and in the dim light of the lobby, I saw Gerard standing outside the door. He was about to tap on the glass, but he looked up and saw me. Waving slightly, he stepped away from the door so I could exit. I stepped out into the night, and the icy air bit my cheeks. My hair was swept with the bitter wind, and I crossed my arms over my chest. I should’ve grabbed a jacket, but it’s too late for that now.

I examined Gerard’s smiling dimple-less face. His rich black hair was swept back -on purpose, and it feathered out in a unique way. His hair looked about as soft to the touch as his ivory skin as it blew gracefully with the wind. He had an unzipped leather jacket over his clothes, a dressy vest, white button up and a red tie. Saying he looked great was an insult. He was radiant and statuesque as he stood over me with a pleased look on his face.