“Smells freaky,” he grumbled to himself. “But at least
it’s private and I can think.”
He flicked quickly through his messages and
his heart skipped a beat when he got to his texts. In fact, Leslie
was sure he squealed like a Supernatural fan meeting Dean up close and personal. “He texted me!”
Hands trembling with excitement, he opened
the message.
Hi Leslie. Got yr card.
Tks, it was rly cool. Hope u r well. Coffee sounds gd.
Oliver.
Leslie sat back against the wall and took a
deep breath. “Oh hell. He wants to go for coffee.” He texted back
quickly.
OMG, gd to hear from u.
Glad u lkd card. When do u wnt to meet up?
His eyes watched the small screen, willing a
reply. After about ten minutes had elapsed, he sighed.
He’s probably not got his
phone on him.
Leslie kept telling himself that even after
the day from hell ended. Taylor had been philosophical about the
fact Oliver had texted him, but not called back yet.
“Give him some time,” he’d advised, a twinkle
in his eye. “He might have lost signal or something. Maybe give it
a day or so, see if he gets back to you.”
* * *
Now Leslie was home in his small, minimally
decorated apartment, curled up on the couch with his favourite
fuzzy socks on and a warm tracksuit. He wouldn’t been seen dead in
what he called his sloth clothes in
public, but at home, on his own, he rather enjoyed the freedom to
be a slob. It was hard work looking as good he did all the
time.
He fed his fish, added an extra castle he’d
bought to the fish tank so Glenda, a small clown fish, could try
something new—the fish seemed to have a thing for hiding behind
castles—then made himself a cup of hot chocolate.
He watched the news on television with eyes
that barely took it in and kept darting to his phone every five
minutes. When the phone finally rung and he was dozing on the large
red throw pillow, he sat up with a start. The strident tones of
Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ echoed in the stillness of his lounge
and he scrambled dozily for his mobile. It was an unknown caller
and for a moment, Leslie was tempted not to answer. He’d been the
subject of harassment before from a guy he’d given his number to
and now he was a little wary. The thought in his head though that
this could be Oliver calling made him waive his natural tendency to
ignore the insistent ringing and he answered.
“This is Leslie.” He mentally crossed his
fingers hoping psycho stalker Brian hadn’t managed to track him
down.
“Leslie?” The hesitant voice on the other
side made Leslie want to squee in delight.
It was him.
“Oliver?”
“Uhmm, yes. You recognise my voice then?” He
sounded amused and Leslie’s heart beat faster.
“Of course. It’s only been a couple of weeks
since I saw you. My memory isn’t that bad.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry it took so long to reply to
you. I was…busy.” There was a short silence. “I thought we could
meet up somewhere on Thursday evening. You know, just for a chat
and a cup of coffee.” His voice was hesitant but firm.
Leslie pursed his lips.
Ah, setting the
expectations. He sounds a little skittish. I can be his friend if
that’s all he wants. I don’t want to scare him off. I know I can be
a bit…intense.
“I’d like that; coffee sounds good. If you
text me the address where you want to meet, I can meet you there
after work on Thursday.”
“Uh, sure. It’s a little place called
Fidalgo’s, not far from my house. I’ll text you the details. The
owner knows me, so just mention my name when you get there and
he’ll show you through.”
Leslie nodded happily. “That sounds good. I
look forward to it.”
Oliver sounded more relaxed when next he
spoke. “Yeah, me, too. It’ll be good to chat to you. I’ll see you
then.”
The phone went silent and Leslie did a little
jig around the lounge. He saw Mrs. Camberwell from across the
courtyard in the opposite block of flats watching him from her
window.
He pranced over
it’s private and I can think.”
He flicked quickly through his messages and
his heart skipped a beat when he got to his texts. In fact, Leslie
was sure he squealed like a Supernatural fan meeting Dean up close and personal. “He texted me!”
Hands trembling with excitement, he opened
the message.
Hi Leslie. Got yr card.
Tks, it was rly cool. Hope u r well. Coffee sounds gd.
Oliver.
Leslie sat back against the wall and took a
deep breath. “Oh hell. He wants to go for coffee.” He texted back
quickly.
OMG, gd to hear from u.
Glad u lkd card. When do u wnt to meet up?
His eyes watched the small screen, willing a
reply. After about ten minutes had elapsed, he sighed.
He’s probably not got his
phone on him.
Leslie kept telling himself that even after
the day from hell ended. Taylor had been philosophical about the
fact Oliver had texted him, but not called back yet.
“Give him some time,” he’d advised, a twinkle
in his eye. “He might have lost signal or something. Maybe give it
a day or so, see if he gets back to you.”
* * *
Now Leslie was home in his small, minimally
decorated apartment, curled up on the couch with his favourite
fuzzy socks on and a warm tracksuit. He wouldn’t been seen dead in
what he called his sloth clothes in
public, but at home, on his own, he rather enjoyed the freedom to
be a slob. It was hard work looking as good he did all the
time.
He fed his fish, added an extra castle he’d
bought to the fish tank so Glenda, a small clown fish, could try
something new—the fish seemed to have a thing for hiding behind
castles—then made himself a cup of hot chocolate.
He watched the news on television with eyes
that barely took it in and kept darting to his phone every five
minutes. When the phone finally rung and he was dozing on the large
red throw pillow, he sat up with a start. The strident tones of
Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ echoed in the stillness of his lounge
and he scrambled dozily for his mobile. It was an unknown caller
and for a moment, Leslie was tempted not to answer. He’d been the
subject of harassment before from a guy he’d given his number to
and now he was a little wary. The thought in his head though that
this could be Oliver calling made him waive his natural tendency to
ignore the insistent ringing and he answered.
“This is Leslie.” He mentally crossed his
fingers hoping psycho stalker Brian hadn’t managed to track him
down.
“Leslie?” The hesitant voice on the other
side made Leslie want to squee in delight.
It was him.
“Oliver?”
“Uhmm, yes. You recognise my voice then?” He
sounded amused and Leslie’s heart beat faster.
“Of course. It’s only been a couple of weeks
since I saw you. My memory isn’t that bad.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry it took so long to reply to
you. I was…busy.” There was a short silence. “I thought we could
meet up somewhere on Thursday evening. You know, just for a chat
and a cup of coffee.” His voice was hesitant but firm.
Leslie pursed his lips.
Ah, setting the
expectations. He sounds a little skittish. I can be his friend if
that’s all he wants. I don’t want to scare him off. I know I can be
a bit…intense.
“I’d like that; coffee sounds good. If you
text me the address where you want to meet, I can meet you there
after work on Thursday.”
“Uh, sure. It’s a little place called
Fidalgo’s, not far from my house. I’ll text you the details. The
owner knows me, so just mention my name when you get there and
he’ll show you through.”
Leslie nodded happily. “That sounds good. I
look forward to it.”
Oliver sounded more relaxed when next he
spoke. “Yeah, me, too. It’ll be good to chat to you. I’ll see you
then.”
The phone went silent and Leslie did a little
jig around the lounge. He saw Mrs. Camberwell from across the
courtyard in the opposite block of flats watching him from her
window.
He pranced over