Yes We Can

“In or out – what’s it going to be?”

Blue eyes bore into me with an intensity that is difficult to refuse. A hand reaches up to push silky black hair back from a broad forehead. Irresistible dimples start to show on smooth cheeks as the beginnings of a smile push full lips up at the corners.

Every part of Bryan McAffey taunts me, dares me, begs me to say yes.

I’ve fancied him since the moment I laid eyes on him, back on the first day of Freshers’ Week. He was laughing in the middle of a group of friends, already the centre of attention. He seemed so at ease, while I was still reeling from the tearful goodbye with my parents hours before. I hovered on the edges, not confident enough to introduce myself to anyone, while Bryan held court, instantly popular.

Sure, you say, mousey social pariah lusts after sex bomb, because he’s so far out of reach – what a cliché.

But it wasn’t like that. Even before we actually met, I saw something in Bryan that others didn’t. He put up a fantastic front – laid back, charming, a little arrogant. He had everyone eating out of his hand within days of arrival on campus. But I saw tension behind the smiles, a hint of fear deep in those gorgeous blue eyes. I knew he was pretending; takes one to know one, I guess. I hid in silence and shadow, while he hid in plain sight, both of us deflecting real attachment in our separate ways.

It was pure chance that brought us together – one night at dinner, we both reached for the last chocolate mousse at the same moment and our fingers touched. There was a moment of awkward laughter, both of us snatching our hands back hurriedly.

Then he offered me a shy smile, and said, “Hey, I’ve seen you in lectures, haven’t I?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything, wondering how he could possibly have noticed me when I took care to sit at the back, and never spoke to anyone.

“You’re always there before me,” he said. “No matter how hard I try to be early, I can never beat you to the hall. You’re always up in the top corner when I get there.”

That smacked of careful scrutiny, not just a passing glance. Could it be that he had noticed something in me, the way I had in him?

“I like that seat,” I said moronically, my voice barely above a whisper. “I like to make sure I get it.” I felt myself blushing, and dropped my eyes from that piercing blue gaze. “You can have the mousse,” I mumbled. “If you want it.”

There was a long moment when neither of us moved or spoke. Eventually, I looked back up to see uncertainty in his expression. It was the most honest emotion I had ever seen there, and it set my heart pounding.

“We could share it?” he offered, tentatively.

Could he really be nervous about my response? Did it really matter to him whether or not I wanted to prolong this encounter? And oh, I did.

I smiled then, and watched as his shoulders relaxed, his brow smoothed, and the clouds across his face parted to reveal the dazzling radiance of his happiness.

“That sounds nice,” I said.

Bryan scooped up the mousse and deposited it on his tray, moving to the exit of the dining hall so quickly I had trouble keeping up. He led me across the quad to a picnic table partially hidden behind a stand of trees, where he laid his food down with a flourish.

“There,” he said with satisfaction. “Much better than eating with the masses.”

I couldn’t help but agree, but I was still having difficult believing this was really happening.

We chatted a bit over the course of our meal, exchanging innocuous bits of personal information, tension of a kind I had never felt before slowly building in my belly. He was briefly back to his easy-going, confident self, but there was a sincerity to it that was unusual with him, and it helped me open up a bit and be more myself, too.

At last, the savouries were gone, and it was time for the chocolate mousse. Bryan set it in the centre of the table, halfway between us, and handed me a spoon. We ate slowly, alternating bites, looking into each other’s eyes as the sweet dessert gradually disappeared. It was the single most erotic experience of my young life.

Even after all that, though, I still wasn’t sure until he laid his spoon down, ran his finger round the edge of the dish and then held it out towards me. I didn’t stop to think; I leaned in and slowly licked the sauce off his finger, my eyes closing in pleasure.

When I opened them again, he was right there, his face only inches from mine.

And this is where I find myself, the question still burning in his eyes, his breath warm on my cheek as he waits for my answer.

“Can we really?” I ask.

“Yes, Simon, we can,” he says, and leans in to kiss me.