Brandon tapped his foot nervously on the floor and cupped the standard-issue white coffee cup, which he had ordered not because he had been particularly interested in sampling what sludge this cafe was passing for coffee, but because it gave his hands something to do. What was he doing here?  He heaved a gusty sigh and studied the pattern of the ancient pebbled Formica tabletop.  He stupidly had arrived nearly twenty minutes early—he always seemed to have this thing about being somewhere first, as though it offered some kind of home-court advantage, but really it always ended in him tying himself into knots while he waited. 

The first thoughts of “abort” had just started flashing across his frontal lobe at five minutes after two when a beat up Jeep Wrangler swung into the parking lot.  Brandon’s heart started hammering uncontrollably at the realization that he had actually allowed this meeting to take place.  The Jeep pulled into a spot and its taillights remained on for a painful minute, during which he had ample time to replay and regret the many steps that had led to this moment. The emotional breakdown over the holidays. The first email.  The second. 

“Can I get you anything else?” came the bored voice of the waitress, who had ambled on over only to observe that, after nearly a half hour of occupying a booth, Brandon’s $2.25 investment remained untouched and stone cold between his hands. 

Brandon peeled his eyes from the window, marveling at the seeming innate knack by which all servers had the worst timing possible. “Not right now, thanks. Maybe in a couple minutes. I’m meeting someone.”

An almost imperceptible raise of the eyebrows revealed the server’s doubt as the she turned away and retreated behind the counter. Brandon glanced back toward the lot to see that the taillights were off, and the Jeep’s owner was now striding toward the door. 

Anthony. 

Brandon recognized the rugged, early 40-something face from some of his older content on another channel. When Anthony’s muddy accident had turned him into a sudden sensation and he started a second channel—which only featured him from the waist down—he abandoned and then eventually removed the original one.  But even if he had not viewed the earlier videos, Brandon was sure he would have recognized those legs, that gait, and even the faded cargo pants anywhere. Certainly he had stared at them enough…in high definition. 

Now they headed toward him, in three living dimensions. Brandon craned to take in his wool plaid overshirt and henley, and the worn gray hightops on his feet as Anthony neared the door.  Then he faced forward, fighting to look casual and unaware as he listened to the bell above the entry and footsteps on the tile floor as they approached him from behind. 

“Brandon?” 

Brandon looked up into easily the most striking face he had ever seen—a pleasing mashup between a certain hot republican senator and a guy who had starred on several Hallmark movies—square-jawed, graying stubble, dark eyes.  He was no Adonis.  But he was @PaMudLife and he had just uttered his name. Brandon struggled to rise from inside confines of the booth and offered his hand. 

“That’s right. It’s nice to meet you, Anthony.”  Brandon was keenly aware of how ridiculous his formal tone sounded given the reason for their meeting. 

Anthony gave his hand a quick squeeze before sliding in opposite him. “Naw, don’t get up.”  A crooked grin. “I knew it was you.”

Brandon raised his eyebrows and glanced around the cafe. “I’m literally the only one here.”

Anthony nodded and chuckled lightly. “Yeah, true. But I think I would have recognized you anyway.”

“How’s that?”

Once again, the ill-timed server entered, stage left.  Her bland face betrayed no disbelief that Brandon had, indeed, been joined by someone else.  “What will you be having?”

Anthony shot her a winning smile, which had little effect. “A black coffee and a plate of fries would be great, thanks.” When she had wordlessly trudged off, he picked up the thread. “You’ve got a look about you. Matches the tone in your emails.  Very…precise.”

Brandon felt himself blanch. True, he was sitting in a greasy spoon wearing his favorite tweed slacks and butter smooth cashmere v-neck over a floral button down. His hair was quaffed and his nails buffed. He couldn’t deny that he had made an effort for this bizarre meeting.  But to be described as ‘precise’ made him feel every bit as gay as this man was clearly straight.  He absently scratched at a tiny bubble in the glazing on his coffee cup handle. 

“Well, I certainly had never written to anyone like that before. In truth, I have never spoken about myself…that way.” He shrugged, trying to appear relaxed in spite of this topping the charts of most awkward moments.  “Guess it worked. Here we are.”

“Aw, hey. I would have come anyway. I’m genuinely impressed by how you put yourself out there.”  Brandon forced a weak smile. “Seriously. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” 

Brandon tried to focus as he felt the toe of Anthony’s sneaker bump into his boot. Certainly it was accidental.  Anthony didn’t even seem to notice that it had happened.  But the light tap meant that the same foot that had brought him to ecstasy and shame countless times had just come into contact with his. “Um, let’s see. I’m an interior designer. Gay, if you hadn’t figured that out.  But single.”  He fleetingly searched for a reaction, but there wasn’t one.  Anthony had leaned back against the booth and was staring intently at him. “And I’ve watched every single one of your videos.”

Anthony waggled his eyebrows. “Always nice talking to a fan.”

“Um, I have a cat and I live in a warehouse loft that I’m obsessed with. And god, this feels like a date,” Brandon groaned as he covered his eyes. 

“You’re doing fine, bro.  Hey, my turn.” Anthony leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “I am in insurance.”  At this Brandon looked up.  Anthony laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve been in the business for twelve years now. I’m separated—from a woman—and I have a farmhouse about fifteen minutes from here that I probably need to pay a little more attention to. Maybe you could help me with that. Oh, and I have a cat, too.”

“Insurance,” Brandon repeated, still processing. “But you’re so…outdoorsy.”

Anthony’s eyebrows shot up. “A guy can’t do both?” 

A plate of fries and a steaming cup of coffee with an oily film on it materialized between them. Anthony nodded his appreciation at the server and pushed the plate to the center of the table. “Have some fries,” he said, dashing the pile with extra salt before plucking one up and popping it in his mouth. “All tension ceases with fries, and you, my friend, seem tense.”

Brandon obligingly took one and bit off the end, studying it. “Can you blame me? I can’t believe I set this up.”

Anthony put his hands on the table, as though bracing himself. “Hey, I think it’s great. I think what you’re doing is great.”  Brandon shot him a dubious look.  “I mean, am I happy that I’m probably losing a loyal subscriber? Obviously not.” He winked.  “But you set to make a change in your life and you’re doing it. Kudos, man.”

“You don’t think this is the least bit…strange?”

Anthony chewed thoughtfully for a moment.  “Who would I be to judge? Aren’t I not half the reason we’re here? After all, I’m the one making the videos.”

Brandon narrowed his eyes.  “Yeah, how is that?  You’re straight, but I assume you’re aware what kind of following you have.”

“Oh, I’m aware. But they like and subscribe and that means cash.”

“And there’s nothing else in it for you…other than that?” 

Anthony looked at the ceiling before thrusting out his lower lip and shaking his head. “Nope. I mean, it gets me out of the house.  And video editing can be fun. But no.  I stumbled onto a content niche and I went with it.” He took a swig of the coffee and winced before setting the cup back down. “So what exactly do you want to get out of this? Out of our meeting?”

Brandon glanced out the window at the overcast March day. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I guess that I thought I would start by meeting you—humanizing you.  I thought that could…help.” Brandon fumbled.