Page 4 of Darling

“Coffee. Twice.”

“Then you’re good. Don’t suppose you want another though, huh?” I say.

“I’ve reached maximum coffee intake for the day.”

“What about tea? You obviously drink tea, right?”

His mouth twitches endearingly. “Obviously.”

“Cool, well, I know this little place like two blocks from here, they have basically all the tea in China. Well, outside of China. They have a lot of tea, basically.” I start walking, hoping he’ll follow, but he doesn’t. He hesitates, glancing around and back inside the store. I stop.

“Look, am I misreading all of this? ’Cause like, I had the vibe that you sort of liked my vibe, and well, now your vibes are kinda telling me something else. So I just want to be clear. Like, absolutely no hard feelings, but did you come back here to see me again? Or is this just a completely casual coincidence?” I know it isn’t, he all but admitted that a second ago, but perhaps if I coax it out of him, then he can be coaxed into something else.

Christian blinks, shocked by my directness, I think.

He says, “It’s not a completely casual coincidence.”

I can’t help the grin that spreads over my face. “Cool. Well, I absolutely came back to see if you were here, and you are, so I think we should go have some tea to celebrate. Or, like, my place isn’t too far from here—maybe a ten-minute drive—so we could go back there, and after you help me unload my antiques and carry them up to my apartment, I could give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had as a thank you. Totally your call.” It’s a risk. I know it; the guy is jittery. But to my relief, he laughs, cheeks flushing a little. And fuck, it’s a sexy laugh. Warm and soft as melted toffee.

“You’re very… direct.”

“So I’ve been told.”

His expression turns serious then as he studies me. “How old are you?”

“How old do you want me to be?”

He tilts his head, chidingly, and raises an eyebrow in warning. It gives daddy vibes.

“I’ll be twenty-five on my next birthday.” Relief seeps into his dark eyes. It gives me some comfort I didn’t know I even needed. Not a creep, then. I put another check in the box in my head.

“I’ve a son your age,” he says.

“He call you daddy?” I ask playfully.

He laughs again. “Not for many years.” After a moment, he says, “So where is this place with all the tea outside of China?”

I order while he finds us a seat. As she slides the tray of matcha green and Earl Grey across to me, Cassie—I come here a lot—looks at where Christian is sitting on the raised section towards the back, sunlight streaming in over him.

“Who’s the daddy in the glasses?” she whispers. He’s scrolling his phone with his back to us.

“I’m about to find out.” I wink and lift the tray. He sitsup straight in his chair as I set it down in the middle of the rosewood table, casting a look at me that makes my legs a little weak. Something you should know about me right off the bat is that I like older men. They melt my insides like butter, they harden my cock and make my asshole quiver, and yeah, I know this is likely rooted in my ark-load of childhood trauma, which I saw a therapist about for close to two years, but it is what it is. And so Christian—an older guy, who also happens to be British—looking up at me, is kind of a lot to contend with right now.

“Earl Grey,” I say as I set his cup and saucer down next to him. He seems to be admiring the cup, which is a sort of retro floral thing that gives New Jersey granny vibes. My own is in a little Japanese handle-less mug in unvarnished clay. This place is kitsch as fuck, which is why I like it.

“Thank you,” he says politely as he lifts it to his mouth and takes a dainty sip.

“So, can I ask you something?” I say as I test the temperature of the mug before lifting it.

He gives me a wary look. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Well, ask and I’ll decide if I’m going to answer it.”

I grin. “Are you a spy?”

“What?” He laughs. “No. I’m not a spy.”