New York, I Love You

Chapter 1

Kevin crossed his arms over his chest, face serious, as he read the signboard in front of him. 

Shoot, he thought. He gave me the wrong address. 

Because of course, being the absolute organisational genius that his dear friend was, he'd given Kevin the address to a laundromat. It was a very fancy laundromat (needlessly so, if he was being totally honest), and Kevin was immediately suspicious of how Scott could afford it. Not that he was undermining Scott's talent or ability in any way, but realistically, there was no way the guy was making enough to waste on this. 

He pulled out his phone. 

"Kev! Are you here already?", a voice rumbled

"Hey Scott. Umm... I think you gave me the wrong address, because I'm standing in front of", he looked up for confirmation, "the Golden Tide Laundry Centre?"

There was a crackle of noise on the other end, followed by a sharp gasp.

"Scott?"

A second voice began yelling, and Scott was speaking too quickly and too far away from the phone for Kevin to understand what exactly was going on. A sudden loud bang startled him, and Scott picked up the phone again. 

"Sorry about that Kev. Uh, my house is kind of a mess right now, so I'll text you the name of the coffee shop I told you about and we can meet there in fifteen, if that's okay with you?"

He shrugged. 

"See you there."

*

Kevin stepped out of his cab, thanking the driver (who happened to be just as big a fan of Jacqueline Du Pre as he was) and entering the coffee shop. The smell of cocoa hit him instantly, and the warmth of the little nook made him sweat. Unravelling his scarf and pulling off his coat, he sat down at a table. The atmosphere was homely, with a healthy chatter (and pretty unhealthy-looking piles of bacon, eggs, and cheese) bubbling around him. Weak sunlight filtered through the hastily opened blinds, painting the walls a feeble yellow. Waiters bustled around with smiles, seemingly familiar with the regulars and so side-eyeing him curiously.  

One in particular walked up to him now, flicking his dark fringe aside with a single finger and swiftly pulling a pencil from behind his ear. A pad of paper in hand, he stopped in front of Kevin. 

"Are you ready to order?"

Kevin shook his head, smiling. "Oh, no, thank you. I'm waiting for a friend."

"How long will they take to get here?" The waiter gestured pointedly to a fading sign on the wall that said "PLEASE NOTE THAT THE MAXIMUM WAITING PERIOD WITHOUT ORDERING IS 20 MINUTES." So this was probably a regular problem the café faced. Well, he didn't want to contribute to that. 

Kevin looked at his watch, opening his mouth to speak when the door opened and Scott stumbled in, snow in his blonde hair and breath steaming from the outside cold. He looked around in a daze until Kevin waved him over, and he slid into the booth. 

The waiter smirked, giving Scott a once over, eyebrows raised. "He's punctual, huh?"

Kevin laughed, shaking his head. "This is a first."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Hey Mitch."

"Hey asshole."

"Why're you waiting tables?"

"Nicole's sick."

"So we're stuck with you?", Scott sighed, a playful smile falling across his face.

Mitch prodded his shoulder with a finger, laughing. "More like I'm stuck with you. Who's your friend?"

"Kevin", the man himself interjected, sticking his palm out for a handshake. Mitch obliged. His grip was loose and tentative, as though he rarely shook hands with anyone.  Scott's, on the other hand (haha), were always firm and uninhibited-- or at least, that was how Kevin remembered them.

"How do you guys know each other?"

Scott's breathing hitched slightly.

"We -"

"-We live in the same building." Scott cut Mitch off, blinking rapidly. Mitch's gaze flitted to the blond quickly, seemingly unsure of something. He began twirling his pencil between his slender fingers (they looked musical, the cellist thought) and turned back to Kevin with a nod. 

"Oh, cool."

Kevin didn't know what was going on between Mitch and Scott, but he didn't want to intrude. Maybe Scott's story wasn't all true, or they were more than neighbours (that wouldn't surprise Kevin, given the blond's charm and love for all the physical attention he could get.) Whatever it was, Kevin pushed it aside. 

An awkward pause.

Scott looked up. "...Hey Mitch, you gonna take our orders now or..."

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Yes sir, whatever you want."

How odd. Mitch seemed to have a whole language of subtext to everything he said and did. And Scott seemed to catch on to most of it, from his reactions. Maybe it was just their apparent closeness that spawned some special wavelength of communication, but there was something very intriguing about the waiter's mannerisms. Very intriguing indeed.

Scott smirked and then turned to Kevin, who was by this point completely and utterly fascinated by Mitch. 

The door to the café opened again, and a tall man with dirty blonde curls and an exquisite smile sat down at a corner table, opening up his laptop and putting on his glasses. 

Mitch bit his lip, letting out a small sound of approval, and turned back to Scott and Kevin impatiently.

"Hurry up, I've got three minutes before Linda gets to him."