Call Me Back Again

CHAPTER 5

There was a spring in John's step as he manoeuvred himself through the labyrinth of tables, the two plates balanced precariously on his right forearm whilst he clutched a big carafe in his left. It was basically a larger version of the ones on each table, and the waiting staff would periodically do their rounds, topping up the ones that were starting to reach depressing levels. John didn't actually need to do that at that time, he'd done it right before his little 'Wankus Interruptus', but he'd stopped by the bar for a different reason and thought it might raise suspicion if he didn't, so...

His smile was beaming when he arrived at table six, and the sounds of appreciation turned the professional one he had been wearing into a rather silly one. How could a grown man be so enthusiastic about being served some overpriced food? Still, if Paul wasn't going to be self-conscious about his undiluted joy, then neither was John. Besides, that lad looked hella cute, all happy and excited like a kid on Christmas morning.

Natalie didn't waste any time digging in, Paul noticed when their food arrived. Well, she had complained about how long it had taken for their meals to arrive, so he supposed she was very hungry. Still, she could have at least waited until he had his plate too. Oh well, he shrugged, what's the use of worrying anyway, especially when he had better things to think about? A minute earlier, his heart had leapt up when he spotted that tell-tale gait of the approaching figure, and by the time he could see Giovanni's smile up-close, the butterflies had completely taken over to the point of being unable to do much more than smile. He supposed it was really a bad thing to be infatuated with the waiter, especially when out on a date with someone.

Then again, he'd given up all hope of ending up in Natalie's bed (or she ending up in his, for that matter) and truthfully, he didn't much care anymore. What was that saying? Be careful what you wish for; it might come true... Well, the truth was that reality wasn't nearly as charming as the fantasy he'd nursed for the past three months. She was fun to look at and nice enough for a superficial chat, but dating material? Magic 8-ball says 'outlook not so good'. Pity about the missed shag, though.

He wasn't too sure he'd be able to get over this crush he had on brown-eyed, handsome man quite as easily, however. As the lad in question arranged the plate of Ossobuco just so, he invaded Paul's personal space. The moment he leant in from behind, that special way waiters do, his hair had ever so slightly brushed Paul's cheek. Curls... He loved curls, especially on gingers. Auburn-haired people were redheads too, weren't they? It looked red enough anyway, now that the sun had nearly completely set and the sky was a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges.

Having the man this close-by meant Paul also got a strong whiff of his deodorant, which smelt of chocolate. Best perfume ever. Whoever thought of it, should get a statue and Paul made a mental note to try and find out which scent it was so he could go out and buy some for himself. Suddenly, Paul kind of wanted to lick it off of Giovanni's skin, just to see if (he) it tasted as good as (he) it smelt. Not because he just wanted to suck the sexy waiter's neck, of course. Or snog him until they'd both be gasping for air... Ahem.

They had a moment. Yes, that's right. One second, John was leaning over to turn the plate so it'd be the right way up, whilst his other hand fumbled to find Paul's jacket pocket. He'd paused on his way from the kitchen to scribble his phone number onto a paper cocktail napkin (which he supposed would be more practical than one of the fancy linen ones from the tables), along with the words 'Crying, hoping, waiting for a call', along with some X's and O's, just to make sure the recipient knew exactly the kind of call was expected. John hoped the Buddy Holly reference would have the desired effect. It should, he thought, if Paul truly was a fan of that era. He hadn't signed his name, though. Some mystery wouldn't hurt.