Page 12 of True Sight (Nat. 20, #4)
HENRY
I knew that leaving home would be an adjustment but I didn’t expect to feel this lonely all the time.
Next week will mark one month in the States and nearly four weeks on studio renovations.
I’m thankful for how busy the launch of it is keeping me because it’s a good distraction from how much I miss home.
Not so much missing home as much as simply missing Ellie.
Our relationship is more like twins separated at birth and going from seeing her almost daily to nothing more than an occasional FaceTime call has been hard on my heart.
But something I’m immensely grateful for was Alex.
She and I hung out after I hired her just over a week ago and ended up getting wine drunk on my sofa.
While we were supposed to be choreographing dances for classes, we opted to spend the night yapping about our past sexual encounters and the celebrities we would love to see naked.
She picked up on the flow and speed of classes quickly and has joined me in several virtual sessions already.
When she shared about her new teaching gig online, Conrad had to quickly build out a waitlist for local attendees to become members once we opened.
He also put up a temporary enrollment page for me without me even having to ask which allowed people on this side of the Atlantic to join the virtual classes I had scheduled.
For a guy who’s supposed to be grumpy and closed off, I found the gesture to be incredibly thoughtful.
Don’t go falling for a straight boy, you’ve been there before and you were the one who got burned, I hear the voice in my head remind me as I walk down the street.
I’m on my way to meet with Alex for coffee and to go over next week’s teaching schedule.
We agreed that it’s a good idea to start offering classes during normal Eastern Time Zone hours and already booked out the few classes we’d added to the schedule.
I’ll continue to teach my U.K. students in the early hours of the day and we’ll tag team the ones during normal business hours here in the States.
You don’t know that he’s straight though. It’s a dangerous thing to assume someone’s sexuality, I reply, starting a conversation with myself.
But you also don’t know that he’s gay either, the opposing voice snips.
An external sigh escapes me as I pull open the door to the coffee shop Alex asked me to meet her at.
When I step inside, I think I’ve somehow gotten lost and entered a plant shop.
Green vines and oversized leaves fill the space, creating a warm and comfortable energy.
As I move closer inside, a door is open in the back which I walk through to step out onto an outdoor patio that’s closed in with plastic walls.
Patio furniture is set out in an organized way and to the side is a full bar that holds bottles of wine, liquor, and two industrial sized espresso machines.
“Henry, hey,” Alex calls out and my eyes look towards the sound. I spot her sitting at a high top and walk over, leaning in for a hug once I’ve reached her.
“You look lovely today,” I compliment. She looks striking in her faux leather leggings, skin tight black long sleeved pullover, and a black puffer vest she’s layered on top.
Her long black hair is pulled back into the ponytail I quickly learned is her signature look and she has on black Nike trainers to finish off her outfit.
She looks like she just stepped off a photoshoot for Nike.
“Oh, please.” She waves a hand at me, resituating herself on her stool. “I had three personal training sessions this morning and haven’t had time to change.”
“Well for a girl who’s done nothing but workout today, you look stunning. If I had a single straight bone in my body I might consider hitting on you.” She laughs before taking a sip of her coffee. I pull myself onto the stool across from her and browse the menu propped up by a small metal stand.
“How was class this morning?” she asks. My alarm had gone off at 2:45 a.m. like it does every Monday so I can get to the studio to teach by 3:30 a.m. Thankfully I only have one class for the day which my body is grateful for.
Mondays are a “one and done” day for me in the studio so I can use the rest of the day to catch up with planning classes and other admin tasks.
“It was good. I checked emails this morning and noticed we had several more membership interest forms filled out. Every time you post a clip from class we get, like, five or six more.”
“That’s so great! People are going to be busting down the doors when we open in January.”
“I hope so, or else completely uprooting my life and spending my inheritance was for nothing,” I joke. I push up from the table and go to order myself a tea. When it’s ready, I carry it back to the table and find Alex furiously typing on her phone.
“Everything okay?” I ask when I notice her eyebrows are wrinkled.
She sighs and slams her phone face down on the table as if it’s personally offended her. “Men are so fucking stupid. This is why I also date women. Women—most of them at least—aren’t fucking stupid. Are you sure you don’t want to be with a woman? We’re less idiotic than your male counterparts.”
I bite down on a laugh seeing that something, or someone, has clearly upset her. “I’m sure. I’ve tried women and I just can’t get behind them. Literally and metaphorically.”
This has her howling and her head falls behind her. When she looks up again, she wipes an invisible tear from her eye.
“I just don’t understand. I met this guy and things were so good. We had plans for later this week and now he’s acting like I’m the carrier of the plague.”
“Are you exclusive?”
“Is anyone exclusive these days?” Skepticism drips from her question.
“Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been so criminally single that I personally wouldn’t know,” I reply, pushing my lips out at her.
“Oh stop, a catch like you? I don’t believe for a second you haven’t met someone by now.”
“Well…”
“So there is someone,” she nearly shouts, her eyes becoming large circles. The way she jumps up in her seat causes her long dark ponytail to swoosh behind her head.
“Okay, please calm down,” I laugh, holding a hand up in front of me. I look at her for a second, considering if I should tell her or not.
“There is this one guy,” I sigh relentlessly. Alex squeals across from me in her seat.
“So what’s the issue? You’re cute and funny and the whole fucking package,” my new friend states.
“The issue is that I don’t know if he’s gay, or bi, or whatever. I don’t know, he’s hard to read.” Thinking about Conrad and the way his blond hair swoops across his face makes my insides turn over.
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Alex, you don’t just flat out ask people their sexuality. Especially when you hardly know them.”
“Why not? I do,” she deadpans and I laugh because of course she does. Alex is a ‘take-no-shit’ kind of girl which is a big reason why I love her so much.
“Well I can’t ask this guy that, he’s not one who would take that question very well.
He’s kind of grouchy.” My arms cross on top of the table in front of me and I smile as I think about our meeting last week.
The way I thought he looked cute as he explained things on his computer and told me about his dog.
How after an hour he pulled a pair of glasses out of his backpack and set them on the bridge of his nose.
A feral scream rang out in my brain as he did and I prayed to the gods he couldn’t hear it.
“You like him,” Alex’s voice pulls me out of the memory.
“I do not.”
“You do, too, I see it all over your face. You’re down bad, boy.” She shakes her head at me with a smirk.
“Whatever you say,” I sing, suddenly feeling sheepish and exposed.
After skillfully navigating the conversation away from my potentially ungrounded crush, Alex and I spend the next hour discussing this week’s class schedule and plans for the weekend.
Once we’d finished our drinks and walked out of the small coffee shop, we hugged one another before heading our own separate ways.
My mind drifts back to Conrad on my walk home.
His warm brown eyes and his propensity to wear collared shirts with the top few buttons undone.
My tongue runs along the inside of my cheek, considering, and I pull out my phone to type a text.
I read and reread the ten word message over and over before hitting send, knowing good and well that I might not get the response I want.
And while I’m not as bold as Alex to flat out ask about his sexuality, I’m bold enough to test the waters one toe at a time to see if I can figure it out for myself.