HIM .. Joe Goldberg

DATE

I ARRIVE AT SEVEN THIRTY and I can see that you were beginning to get anxious, feeling a fraction of the horrible sensation I had this morning. What if I had stood you up? Would that make you angry? Would you come looking for me? I'd be waiting, Joe, in my little red dress.

You see me and you stand from your bar stool, you stand up for me, what a gentleman! You wave at me, grinning broadly, and I find a blush creep across my face. "For a second, I thought you weren't going to come."

"Why would I make a stupid mistake like that?" I ask rhetorically as I sit beside him. "This is the first book club I've been invited to since college."

You and I relish in each other's gaze and our happiness is pure and everything seems so...right. It's so obvious we were meant to be together, Joe. This is pure destiny. You blink away before I could lean forward for a kiss and catch the bartender's attention. A swell of disappointment enters me, and suddenly I'm in desperate need of a shot. I want- no need tonight to be magical, and alcohol is the only potion that can ensure such a fate. Beside you is a glass of beer, half empty. You really were nervous that I wasn't going to show up, huh?

"Right. I forgot my book, unfortunately. Maybe next time we can do this at my place, where I don't have to worry about it?"

Naughty, naughty boy! Although you're not very smooth, the confidence you have makes up for what you lack, and I chuckle and smile at you and you find it so attractive that you smile at me back, lips pulled over white teeth and squinting your dark eyes. You're adorable, Joe, I can imagine what you looked like as a child. "Joseph Goldberg," you don't like the sound of your full name, it clearly makes you uncomfortable. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me."

"What would you do if I was?" You're cheeky as you rest your chin on the heel of your palm, grinning. Your eyes wander lazily from my face to my chest. It's my best bet that the beer I'm looking at now wasn't your first, and you're tipsy enough to try and charm your way into my bedroom.

I inch closer. You smell like beer, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to kiss you. From wanting to fuck you. I'm looking deep into your eyes, and there's a fierce connection and volcanos erupting and hurricane's cataclysm and sheer chaos pulses inside me as you notice the way I see you, and you lick your lips and your eyes are dreamy and bloodshot and I know what you're thinking, Joe. I know it. All of the sexy, ungraceful thoughts that are running through your brilliant head. I know it all.

"I'd say you're very bold. Are you, Joe?"

The bartender comes before you can answer, and I shoot her a look of wrath as her eyes focus on you. "Hey, my bad. You need another?"

"I could use one, actually." Fucking whore. She didn't even notice me until I spoke, her primary focus was you, Joe, and it was pathetic to witness. She actually thinks that she has a chance. I read on her name tag that her name is Rein, and think of what a unique name that is and wonder if I'd be able to find her Facebook if I enter in her name and where she works. I probably would. I need to keep an eye on her, Joe, to make sure she isn't keeping an eye on you. "Could I get Chardonnay? Thank you." I smile warmly at her.

"Sure." She scribbles down my order before turning back to you. "And you..?" God, how can someone continue to be so desperate? Doesn't she realize that we're clearly on a date?

"Another Miller Light, thank you." You're so polite, even though Rein doesn't deserve it.

She walks off with a bright slutty smile, and I could reach over and grab the last wisp of her brown hair and drag her to the floor, but I'd imagine that would scare you off. I fight off my instinct and chuckle. "I wouldn't take you for a beer drinker." I admit because I know it would be a good start to a conversation.

You perk an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"I don't know. I feel like beer is too...mundane for you. I'd imagine a glass of scotch, to be honest. Or mead."

"Do I look like Ernest Hemingway to you?" You laugh, and you finish your beer as if to prove your point. I watch you swallow, your Adam's apple bouncing up and down. You're clean shaved, being groomed is important to you. Does the same go for a partner?

"I don't know, maybe? You definitely look like you'd ponder war over a smoke and a drink, if that's what you're asking."

"I'm honored that you think so much of me," you say sarcastically, and you smile to make sure that I know you're kidding. Then you put your empty glass down and turn towards me, looking at me with keen interest. I find my palms growing sweaty, I make sure to straighten my back and correct my posture. It scares me when I'm not sure what you're thinking as your eyes roam my person, expression as deep as a trench.

Finally, you say: "What game are you playing?"

The air leaves my lungs like I was just assaulted with a bat. My cheeks glow red, I look down and a curtain of hair falls around my face. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Curtis must have told you I visited earlier. You probably saw the knife in my purse. Did you notice me following you? I'm happy to see Rein again, holding my glass of wine. Maybe she isn't too bad.

I look at you in cheap puzzlement and try to chuckle. "What are you talking about, Joe?"

He sighs. "I mean...you seem way out of my league, if I'm being honest. You're absolutely gorgeous and intelligent as hell, you seem more suited for a Wall Street dude than a bookstore clerk. I guess I just want to know if I'm going to get played or not."

Oh, Joe. For the first time I am overwhelmed with relief at your blatant insecurities. Oh, Joe. You're so blissfully clueless I could laugh right now.

But I don't, because I see the shyness in your eyes and you're nervously biting your lip, like you're expecting me to confirm your fears. Oh, my sweet sweet little Joseph. This is the last thing you should be worried about.

I brush my fingers over your tanned arm and you immediately glance at me. Your eyes are still wary, it makes me smile. "Joe, let me tell you something. Those Wall Street douches are just a couple of frat boys with too much money. The most I could get from them is a roofie, and that's them being generous. Anyway, I search for depth in a person, I don't care about status. I'm not as vain as I seem, you know."

"No-No! I didn't mean that-"

I giggle. "It's okay, I'm only teasing. Short answer, no. You're not being played. I really like you, Joe."

You take my fingers from your arm and hold my hand. You're grinning with relief. "I like you too, Brit."

Finally, we kiss.