love

Parker’s stomach flipped when he entered Balzac’s. Between the animated voices and the pounding, grinding and gurgling coming from behind the counter, he couldn’t hear himself think. He edged his way around the tables and people standing in line, his heart thumping in his chest as he scrutinized the crowd. No Blue Jays cap. Surprised? Not really. Yet he couldn’t get that familiar metallic taste out of his mouth. Should he have known better? Absolutely. But deep down, he still believed in love and, despite his past, that he deserved to be happy.

After one more sweep of the coffee shop, Parker retraced his footsteps towards the entrance. He kept his head down, like a man walking to the execution chamber and finally ready to admit his guilt. He couldn’t bear the shame of it. Why had he thought that Jay would be any different? “God, I’m an idiot!”

Nearing the entrance, Parker stepped aside as a group of burly young men barrelled inside. When he took a step forward, that was when a warm hand grabbed his wrist. He spun around. The Blue Jays cap! And below the bill were those ocean blue eyes that probed and sometimes terrified him. “You!”

“Parker —”

“I can’t believe you did this,” Parker said, his voice pitching high. He couldn’t stop the tears pooling in his eyes and, swallowing his shock, rushed outside. He walked quickly, almost running, along the dark sidewalk through the mist-like drizzle. He heard the patter of feet behind him and picked up his pace. But it was too late. The hand on his shoulder pressed down and brought him to a stop. He could not — would not — look into those eyes again.

“Give me a chance to explain,” Jacob Harding said in a whisper. When there was no response, he slid his hand down Parker’s arm and led him into the deserted Liberty Village Park. They stopped near the large Perpetual Motion sculpture, Jacob unable to catch Parker’s eye. “Please, Parker … look at me.”

Parker jerked his arm free. “I can’t,” he said, strained. “I don’t … know who … you are.”

“I’m your friend.”

“Friend?” Parker lifted his head, his eyes roaming the unshaved, rugged face before him. “Friends don’t —”

“Calm down, Parker,” Jacob cut in, raising his voice to match Parker’s. “Just let me —”

“Explain?” Parker took a step back when Jacob went to touch his arm. “You called yourself Jay. And don’t tell me to fucking calm down.”

Jacob removed his ball cap long enough to run his hand through his hair. “Jay’s a family nickname.”

Parker bristled. “The deception. The duplicity. The lies.”

“Fine, I lied,” Jacob spat. He bit down on his lip and adjusted his hat. “I just … I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“This is sick.” Parker’s voice cracked with disgust. “And mean.”

Jacob made another unsuccessful play for Parker’s arm. “I never meant to…”

“I don’t understand this.” Parker rubbed his eyes. “I mean, you score all the time with guys, jocks —”

“Big talk. I’m a flirt. I like the attention.” Jacob pursed his lips and rolled them. “I’m a one-man kind of guy. Silly or not, I believe that my soul mate’s out there.”

“And you think that’s me?” Parker swooned, and before he could gather up his strength, Jacob stepped forward and drew him close, so close he could smell the bacon Jacob had had for breakfast. “You could have any guy.”

“So you say.” Jacob tightened his hold, their waists and stomachs pressed firmly together. “I’d still like to have that coffee with you.”

Parker, his eyes narrowing, twisted out of the embrace. “Like a date?”

Jacob chuckled and readjusted his cap. “That’s kind of how it works. Dating, that is. Two people do something together so they can get to know each other.”

“I know what dating is.” Parker sucked his teeth. “But I don’t…”

Jacob went over and took Parker’s face in his hands. He hesitated just a moment, then drew Parker to him until their mouths met. Being there, like that, with their lips pressed together, said more than words ever could. They stayed like that for about thirty seconds, then he pulled out of the kiss and smiled. “Let’s talk over coffee.”

Parker backed away. “What? And let the world hear how much of a fool I am?”

“You’re not a fool.” Jacob tugged on the sleeve of Parker’s grey jacket. “Let’s go to my place. We’ll have privacy.”

“I’m not sure about that, either.”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “We’re just going to talk. I don’t sleep with a guy on the first date. Or we can go to your place.”

Parker shook his head. “Let’s just walk.”

They walked in silence, Parker catching Jacob’s sidelong glances but never letting their eyes meet. The shock lingered, and he wondered if this was some type of practical joke. It wasn’t funny, or maybe it was in a twisted, macabre way. Or maybe this was about his pride, now wounded and bleeding, because he hadn’t seen the signs. He never thought of himself as Jacob’s type. And a frantic search through his memories revealed that there had never been any awkward moments between them, moments that could have paved the way for a season of love. Like a hand accidentally brushing against an arse. Like seeing each other naked in the locker room when they worked out together. Like… Jesus! He tried to tell me at Octavo yesterday.

Waiting for the light to change at the King and Bathurst intersection, Jacob bumped into Parker. “You okay?”

Parker turned, his gaze levelled at those magnetic eyes, and opened his mouth to speak. No words came. He just didn’t know what to say. Then it happened — the sudden bulge in his pants that made him look away. Christ, what am I supposed to do?

The answer surprised him.

Delete the app.

Don’t do it. Be strong. But Parker, seated at the corner table that provided cover, couldn’t stop himself. He picked up his phone and, liked he’d done not even two minutes ago, opened Cuddlr. No new messages. He chucked it back on the table and bit down on the inside of his mouth. God, I’m pathetic.

It was hard to resist an app like Cuddlr that packaged love into the essentials — height, weight, age, race, scene and position. Fields on a screen that didn’t say much about a guy’s personality or reveal, in a meaningful way, anything about him. And frighteningly addictive, the app had thrown him a lifeline. It gave him a way to connect to a world he felt stood against him. That was what had Parker hooked, had him always reaching for his phone. Now he was trying to pull back, moderate its use.

“Morning,” the alto voice boomed.

Parker looked up, stared into the probing ocean blue eyes that sometimes terrified him and smirked. “Jacob Harding in the flesh!”

“Ha-ha.” Jacob hung his blue military-style jacket on the back of the chair. “You didn’t think I’d show?”

“Thought you would’ve gone out partying and had company this morning.”

“I’m not a ho.”

Parker raised an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Jacob flinched. Then, after a moment, they laughed.

“Latte?” Parker asked, rising slightly.

“I’ll get it.” Jacob headed for the counter.

Parker found himself, one more time, with his phone in his hand. This time he shut it down to ward off temptation. Then his gaze landed on Jacob’s round bubble butt that had him feeling the heat burn in his cheeks. He’d never done that before … check out his friend. Now I’m just desperate.

“So, this is your spot,” Jacob said, settling into his chair.

“Yes.” Parker picked up his mug. “The coffee’s good, and so is the food.” He’d been telling Jacob about Octavo since it opened eight months ago. The cosy café-diner on Front Street West was where he stopped for an Americano on the way to work.

Parker and Jacob, junior lawyers at a prominent Toronto firm, had both just graduated with a master’s degree in international criminal law. They’d met on the first day of articling, their cubicles side-by-side. That made for an easy, if not accidental, alliance. Neither one of them could remember when it happened, but discovering that the other was gay shored up their bond. Their friendship, five years on, was anchored, real and deep.

Jacob sipped his latte. “That’s good coffee.” Then he pointed at Parker’s phone. “Make any progress on the manhunt?”

Parker bristled. “It’s not a manhunt. I’m not like you. I’m not always on the prowl.”

“And that’s why you’re not getting laid.”

“Says who?”

“Really?” Jacob ran his hand through his dark hair. “That’s hard to imagine when you find something wrong with every guy who messages you. Who are you saving yourself for?”

“The guy who won’t give me Chlamydia or gonorrhea,” Parker said cheekily. “Besides, I’m not the type to fall in love with a headless torso.”

“Not even for an hour?” Jacob smiled.

There it was, in that grin, something that softened the harshness in Jacob’s rugged face. Maybe that was why Parker now found himself doing what most men and women did in Jacob’s presence. His eyes were glued to his friend’s ripped chest that seemed set to burst through the snug-fitting shirt. He has the GQ looks and style all the guys are after. He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. The gurgling of the coffee machine made him look up. “You can certainly do better than that,” he said with an edge.

Jacob shrugged. “The app makes it easy when you’re horny, short on time and need a quick fix. I’m not talking about love or —”

“It’s just so…” Parker’s voice trailed off. Dirty. But he’s right. It’s the Quik Mart of sex, as if you can walk right into the store and grab sex off the shelf, whatever the fetish.

“This is how it’s done now.” Jacob drummed his fingers on the table. “So, if you’re getting laid, dish.”

“No,” Parker said firmly and reached for his mug. “You might be my best friend, but there are certain things about me you don’t need to know. And vice versa.”

“Oh, come on. I tell you everything.”

Parker choked on his coffee and coughed. “I know. Without me asking!”

They laughed. Parker only half-listened as Jacob talked about what had happened in the office while he was away. He was more concerned with why Jacob seemed so interested in knowing the details of his love life. It felt like the beginning of a deposition, but he didn’t know what Jacob hoped to discover or why. But he had no interest in turning their Cuddlr experiences into a competition. And, really, how was he supposed to compete with Jacob-the-heartthrob-Harding?

With their drinks done, they stood and put on their coats as they made for the exit.

“Have you changed your mind about tonight?” Jacob asked as they stood on the sidewalk. “The DJ’s from New York. He’s supposed to be amazing.”

“Every weekend you ask me to go to FLY,” Parker said askance. “Every weekend I say no. It’s not my scene. Why do you keep asking?”

“Because I think you might have fun if you’ll let yourself,” Jacob spat.

“I’m going to the Warhol exhibit,” Parker said.

“That’s this afternoon. You could go anytime. And the AGO…” Jacob sucked his teeth. “Now there’s a great place to meet men.”

“It could happen,” Parker said.

“And God could tap me for the next Immaculate Conception,” Jacob shot back.

“You’re no virgin.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

They stood in silence, their eyes roving the street. It was as if they were afraid that making eye contact would spark another confrontation. Why were they now on edge?

Parker found Jacob’s gaze and held it. “Have a good weekend. See you Monday.”

“Tuesday,” Jacob corrected. “I have a couple of medical appointments Monday. Taking the day off.”

“Is everything all right?” Parker asked.

“It’s just that time of year. Cleaning at the dentist. Annual physical and testing for Chlamydia … I’m kidding.” Jacob shook his head at Parker’s harsh glare. “You think I’m a cheap ho, but I’m not. I’m actually quite expensive.” It didn’t take long for Parker to crack a smile. That was when Jacob stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. The hug was brief, Jacob tightening his hold just before letting go. “See you soon.”

Parker staggered when Jacob released him. He didn’t know what to say and watched his friend move off, disappearing a short time later around the corner. What the fuck was that? The only time Jacob had ever hugged him was at his mother’s funeral, and that felt strange. But this was different, almost … intimate. He shrugged it off and made his way towards his condo building on the lakeshore. He whipped out his phone and waited for it to power on. The first thing he did was open Cuddlr.

“You have 1 new message!”

His heart raced as he tapped View Message. The excitement didn’t last long.

Christ, not him again!

“You have 1 new message!” flashed on the screen.

Parker Wright, his eyes locked on the words, went rigid. He didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to open it. Yet even as his index finger hovered over the Delete button, he couldn’t stop himself. He tapped on View Message.

Hi, Sexy.

Parker hit the Profile icon, groaning as he read the description. White. Toned. Single. “Like that narrows it down,” he grunted, scrolling back to the photo of the CN Tower. And that didn’t impress as much as it made him suspicious. It wasn’t 1950, so why couldn’t he show his face? Was he hiding … from his wife? Parker had no interest in married men or learning about the guy’s intentions. He was done and deleted the message.

Despite being a late convert to apps like Cuddlr, Parker accepted and appreciated the ‘unspoken’ rules. Especially the golden rule: No face pic, no chat. And profile photos of headless torsos and cityscapes made it hard for him to believe that true love was only a tap away. He wasn’t car shopping, wasn’t trying to build and price it online. But there were similarities. He could choose the make and model, new or used, and select the finishes. Unlike most guys, he wasn’t paying that close attention to ‘legroom.’

Ding.

He groaned. Another new message. He knew he should delete it, but his curiosity got the better of him.

No face pic, no chat, right?

Seated on the brown leather sofa, Parker tucked his legs under his body. He set the phone on his thigh, then ran his hand over his face. ‘No face pic, no chat’ was a line of defense against the online trolls. The ones he couldn’t seem to avoid since joining Cuddlr two weeks ago. The faceless chatters who asked him the all-important questions: ‘Looking?’ or ‘Into?’ or ‘Hung?’ They were never the first to volunteer their own stats or what they were looking for. There were others, with completely blank profiles, who claimed to be ‘around’ his age. He tried to be civil and not block them outright, but it wasn’t easy. Not when they finally sent a photo that proved they were old enough to be his father. Parker didn’t want a ‘daddy.’ He already had one useless father in his life, and he wasn’t looking to be kept.

Still there?

Parker stared blankly at his phone. What was he trying to prove by not answering? That he could serve up the ruthlessness online dating sometimes required. Then he caught himself thinking about his mother and holding her frail hand in his. Her sunken eyes were fixed on him and, in between her shallow breaths, she’d said to him, “Guard your character and your manners.” What would she think if she saw him now? The answer made him nauseous: Disappointed.

Parker picked up his phone and typed his message. Hi. How are you?

Nothing.

The silence didn’t surprise him. Experience had shown that most guys wanted instantaneity. And protocol demanded a quick exchange of stats and other photos. After that, if there was interest, the next step was to meet — soon, ergo now — to see what could happen. Sexually. No time-wasters allowed. Parker wasn’t in any rush. He’d rushed three years ago, moving in with a guy after only dating for four months. They’d been living together two months when his boyfriend announced he was leaving. No explanation. No hint of another man. No hint of being unhappy. That left Parker broken and determined to lead a solitary life. Like a proud gay male spinster. But he was a man … with needs. His membership on Cuddlr was a test to see if he could, one more time, open himself up to love. He yawned and checked the time. 11:36 p.m. Just then another ding.

Hey, sorry. Phone call. I’m well, thanks. You?

Parker typed quickly. Good to hear. I’m fine, thanks.

Not going out tonight?

No, Parker sent back. Quiet night at home. You?

Resting up. Will party hard tomorrow.

Parker cringed. He wasn’t interested, either, in guys who lived for the bar scene. Cool. I’ll let you rest. Night.

Not inter—

Parker powered off his phone and got ready for bed. He lay in the darkness, his frustration simmering and set to boil over. What was he doing on the app? Was he really open to love? Or had he already convinced himself that he was meant for a solitary life? He didn’t want to believe that, but it was Friday night and he was alone. Like always. He rolled onto his side and curled into the foetal position. He felt like a man with few connections in the world, without direction, without a real sense of purpose. He was unsure of where he was going and no memory of being happy. What was wrong with him? Since the end of his last relationship, he’d built up walls — fortified and impenetrable — around him. It was the only way not to be disappointed, to not let himself be hurt again.

He closed his eyes, almost instantly transported him to a dream world where he wasn’t alone and where love had the power to make him sing … until he woke up.