“Good book, huh?” Nile said. Nicky looked up to see her standing next to his table, and realised that it had got dark outside while he’d been absorbed.
“Yes, it is,” he said, shuffling aside two empty coffee cups to put it down. “Has Andy sent you to kick me out in favour of customers who are still ordering things?”
“Andy has sent me to clear your table and remind you that three coffees and a glass of wine aren’t a meal, so either you eat something here, or she’s kicking you out to find food somewhere else. But no pressure.” Nile waggled her eyebrows.
Nicky laughed. Labrys was his favourite place; café by day, whiskey bar by night, owned by two good friends, always somewhere he felt comfortable camping out and reading a book. “Tell Andy I will go do that soon. I just want to finish this chapter.”
“What brought on the desire to read about…” Nile craned to read off the title. “Islamic perspectives on the Crusades? Shit, I think that’s on my assigned reading list. I might have to borrow it off you.”
Nile was a PhD student; this was her weekend job, which Nicky knew she mostly had because Andy was very flexible about her hours and let her read when it was quiet. It was in the hours after the café business had finished and before the whiskey really started flowing, so the place was practically empty right now except for two men, recently arrived, about three tables over from Nicky in his comfy window spot. Nicky noticed them particularly because when Nile mentioned her reading list, she turned to look at them.
“Certainly, when I’m done,” said Nicky. “What’s so interesting about those two over there?”
“That’s my supervisor,” Nile said, lowering her voice. “Blind date. I know because he asked me if I’d mind if he brought him here, or if it would be too weird. I said it was fine. But I think it’s not going too well.”
Nile had mentioned her supervisor in passing a time or two. Nicky knew that he was a senior lecturer who didn’t yet have a permanent position, very kind, and his surname was al-Kaysani. Nile had not mentioned that he was extremely handsome, with a head of dark curls, very nice arms, and a beautiful smile. Nicky could see already, though, that Nile was right about the date not going well; the other man, a slightly ferrety-looking white Englishman in some sort of strange hoodie-blazer, wasn’t letting Senior Lecturer al-Kaysani get a word in edgeways. The beautiful smile was being deployed in a way Nicky recognised from his own job as a nurse; professionally. This was not deterring the Englishman. Or of course, perhaps the Englishman was al-Kaysani, but that didn’t seem at all likely, nor did his demeanor match Nile’s stories.
“Well,” Nicky said, because he had nearly finished his glass of wine and the mood struck him, “if he needs to be rescued, just let me know.”
“You know what, I might,” said Nile.
Nicky didn’t end up finishing his chapter, or leaving; he ordered another glass of wine, and listened. The Englishman, whose name seemed to be Stephen, simply would not stop talking. All his stories were about how important he was, and how much money he had, and how his company was going to change the world. Al-Kaysani was glancing more and more frequently at the door.
After another fifteen minutes or so, Nicky spotted Nile behind the bar, texting. A second later, al-Kaysani looked at his phone, and started texting back.
“Excuse me, Joe,” the Englishman said at once. “Not to tell you what to do, but when I go on a date with someone, I expect them to give it their full attention. You’ve certainly got mine.”
“Right, right, sorry,” said al-Kaysani – Joe. “It’s one of my students.”
“Surely you have office hours,” scoffed the Englishman.
“I do, but I take my job very seriously,” said Joe. “I’m there to mentor them, not just to teach them.”
The Englishman made another deprecating noise, and launched into a diatribe about the uselessness of PhD students who interned at his company. Nicky’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a text from an unknown number.
Nile gave me your number. Still willing to interrupt? You’d be my hero.
Nicky waited until the Englishman was in full flight, caught Joe’s eyes, and nodded, once. Out of the other man’s line of sight, just under the table, Joe gave him a thumbs-up.
Nicky threw back the last of his second glass, grabbed his book and his jacket, and left the café as quietly as possible, out the side exit to the garden seating, which was empty because it was pouring down, in traditional English summer fashion. He dashed around to the front and let himself stand in the rain long enough that he’d evidently been outside. Then he strode in the main door, putting a little too much force into it so that the left-hand door banged off the wall, the way that he knew it did because he’d been here so many times.
Nile looked up from the bar; the Englishman looked around, scowling; Joe sat bolt upright, meeting Nicky’s gaze. He’d got the cue. Excellent.
“Joe?” Nicky said, loudly and in as stunned a voice as he could manage, and then remembered that Joe probably didn’t know his name.
Fortunately, that didn’t seem to matter. “I – I don’t know what to say,” said Joe. “I – what are you doing in London?”
“I live here now,” said Nicky, walking slowly towards their table, letting himself be captured by Joe’s gaze. It wasn’t hard; Joe had beautiful eyes, deep and dark and with smile lines at the corners. Nicky could look into eyes like that all day.
“I didn’t know,” breathed Joe.
“Excuse me,” said the Englishman, very loudly. They both ignored him.
“I know this isn’t the time or the place,” Nicky said, stopping about a metre away, “but forgive me, tesoro, I have to say – I am so sorry for how things ended.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Joe, standing up. “It was mine, mio caro.” He switched fluidly to Italian. “ How far are you willing to take this? ”
“ As far as you like, I’m having fun ,” Nicky said in the same language.
“How can you say that? I know it was unforgivable -”
“No, no,” Joe said, took Nicky in his arms, and kissed him on the mouth.
As first kisses with strangers went, it wasn’t the best Nicky had ever had, but that was mostly because they were both smiling into it, a second away from breaking their composure. Joe made up for that by bending Nicky over his arm dramatically; Nicky threw both arms around him and clung on. Someone whistled. It was almost certainly Andy’s wife Quynh.
“ExCUSE ME,” said the Englishman, shooting up from his chair; he was beet red. “I don’t know what sort of date you call this, but -”
“I don’t think it’s going to work out, Stephen,” Joe said, sort of apologetically but not very sincerely. “We have some catching up to do. Good luck with, uh, the dating thing.” Stephen, if that was his name, started spluttering. Nicky grabbed Joe by the hand and dragged him out of the café. It was still raining; they made a dash down the road to stand under a bus shelter.
“Shit!” said Joe. “I left my jacket.”
“I’m sure Nile can grab it for you,” said Nicky. “Unless you want to go back in there.”
“No.” Joe shivered. “No thank you. I couldn’t hear myself think over the sound of his voice, and I work with academics, I’m practically immune to that. This is the last time I let anybody from biology set me up on a blind date, screw you, Meta.” He shook his head, as if casting that whole line of thought away. “I am so sorry; I don’t even know your name.”
“Nicky,” said Nicky, holding out his hand; they shook. “I am a friend of Nile’s. We provide medical aid at protests together.” He didn’t mind telling Joe that; Nile had told him he knew about that particular hobby of hers, if you could call it a hobby.
“Nicky,” repeated Joe. “Well, Nicky, you really are my hero this evening. Can I buy you a drink, to say thank you?”
“You don’t owe me anything, it was my pleasure,” Nicky said, “but…unless you have had enough of blind dates for the evening, and I take no offense whatsoever if you have…I was about to go and get a proper dinner. Would you join me?”
Joe didn’t even hesitate; it was the most flattering thing that had happened to Nicky in years. “Of course. I need to hear the full story of how you cruelly broke my heart, and where, and when, and how we have fatefully recollided in a foreign city.” He winked. “And if I’m, very lucky, maybe there will be a proper kiss at the end of it, instead of the show we put on in there.”
“Sounds like a romance,” Nicky said, holding out his arm. “I’m excited to see how it plays out.”
“Me too,” said Joe, taking his arm. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. They stepped out from the shelter, and walked up the road together.
*
“Is Joe coming back for his jacket?” Andy asked Nile, an hour later. “I owe him and Nicky a drink each on the house, for that performance. Funniest thing that’s happened in here for months.”
“I don’t think so,” Nile said, showing Andy her phone. There was a text on it from Nicky.
Taking your supervisor out for dinner. He’ll come and get his jacket tomorrow. Don’t wait up.
FILL: Joe/Nicky, Nicky saves Joe from a bad blind date
“Good book, huh?” Nile said. Nicky looked up to see her standing next to his table, and realised that it had got dark outside while he’d been absorbed.
“Yes, it is,” he said, shuffling aside two empty coffee cups to put it down. “Has Andy sent you to kick me out in favour of customers who are still ordering things?”
“Andy has sent me to clear your table and remind you that three coffees and a glass of wine aren’t a meal, so either you eat something here, or she’s kicking you out to find food somewhere else. But no pressure.” Nile waggled her eyebrows.
Nicky laughed. Labrys was his favourite place; café by day, whiskey bar by night, owned by two good friends, always somewhere he felt comfortable camping out and reading a book. “Tell Andy I will go do that soon. I just want to finish this chapter.”
“What brought on the desire to read about…” Nile craned to read off the title. “Islamic perspectives on the Crusades? Shit, I think that’s on my assigned reading list. I might have to borrow it off you.”
Nile was a PhD student; this was her weekend job, which Nicky knew she mostly had because Andy was very flexible about her hours and let her read when it was quiet. It was in the hours after the café business had finished and before the whiskey really started flowing, so the place was practically empty right now except for two men, recently arrived, about three tables over from Nicky in his comfy window spot. Nicky noticed them particularly because when Nile mentioned her reading list, she turned to look at them.
“Certainly, when I’m done,” said Nicky. “What’s so interesting about those two over there?”
“That’s my supervisor,” Nile said, lowering her voice. “Blind date. I know because he asked me if I’d mind if he brought him here, or if it would be too weird. I said it was fine. But I think it’s not going too well.”
Nile had mentioned her supervisor in passing a time or two. Nicky knew that he was a senior lecturer who didn’t yet have a permanent position, very kind, and his surname was al-Kaysani. Nile had not mentioned that he was extremely handsome, with a head of dark curls, very nice arms, and a beautiful smile. Nicky could see already, though, that Nile was right about the date not going well; the other man, a slightly ferrety-looking white Englishman in some sort of strange hoodie-blazer, wasn’t letting Senior Lecturer al-Kaysani get a word in edgeways. The beautiful smile was being deployed in a way Nicky recognised from his own job as a nurse; professionally. This was not deterring the Englishman. Or of course, perhaps the Englishman was al-Kaysani, but that didn’t seem at all likely, nor did his demeanor match Nile’s stories.
“Well,” Nicky said, because he had nearly finished his glass of wine and the mood struck him, “if he needs to be rescued, just let me know.”
“You know what, I might,” said Nile.
Nicky didn’t end up finishing his chapter, or leaving; he ordered another glass of wine, and listened. The Englishman, whose name seemed to be Stephen, simply would not stop talking. All his stories were about how important he was, and how much money he had, and how his company was going to change the world. Al-Kaysani was glancing more and more frequently at the door.
After another fifteen minutes or so, Nicky spotted Nile behind the bar, texting. A second later, al-Kaysani looked at his phone, and started texting back.
“Excuse me, Joe,” the Englishman said at once. “Not to tell you what to do, but when I go on a date with someone, I expect them to give it their full attention. You’ve certainly got mine.”
“Right, right, sorry,” said al-Kaysani – Joe. “It’s one of my students.”
“Surely you have office hours,” scoffed the Englishman.
“I do, but I take my job very seriously,” said Joe. “I’m there to mentor them, not just to teach them.”
The Englishman made another deprecating noise, and launched into a diatribe about the uselessness of PhD students who interned at his company. Nicky’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a text from an unknown number.
Nile gave me your number. Still willing to interrupt? You’d be my hero.
Nicky waited until the Englishman was in full flight, caught Joe’s eyes, and nodded, once. Out of the other man’s line of sight, just under the table, Joe gave him a thumbs-up.
Nicky threw back the last of his second glass, grabbed his book and his jacket, and left the café as quietly as possible, out the side exit to the garden seating, which was empty because it was pouring down, in traditional English summer fashion. He dashed around to the front and let himself stand in the rain long enough that he’d evidently been outside. Then he strode in the main door, putting a little too much force into it so that the left-hand door banged off the wall, the way that he knew it did because he’d been here so many times.
Nile looked up from the bar; the Englishman looked around, scowling; Joe sat bolt upright, meeting Nicky’s gaze. He’d got the cue. Excellent.
“Joe?” Nicky said, loudly and in as stunned a voice as he could manage, and then remembered that Joe probably didn’t know his name.
Fortunately, that didn’t seem to matter. “I – I don’t know what to say,” said Joe. “I – what are you doing in London?”
“I live here now,” said Nicky, walking slowly towards their table, letting himself be captured by Joe’s gaze. It wasn’t hard; Joe had beautiful eyes, deep and dark and with smile lines at the corners. Nicky could look into eyes like that all day.
“I didn’t know,” breathed Joe.
“Excuse me,” said the Englishman, very loudly. They both ignored him.
“I know this isn’t the time or the place,” Nicky said, stopping about a metre away, “but forgive me, tesoro, I have to say – I am so sorry for how things ended.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Joe, standing up. “It was mine, mio caro.” He switched fluidly to Italian. “ How far are you willing to take this? ”
“ As far as you like, I’m having fun ,” Nicky said in the same language.
“How can you say that? I know it was unforgivable -”
“No, no,” Joe said, took Nicky in his arms, and kissed him on the mouth.
As first kisses with strangers went, it wasn’t the best Nicky had ever had, but that was mostly because they were both smiling into it, a second away from breaking their composure. Joe made up for that by bending Nicky over his arm dramatically; Nicky threw both arms around him and clung on. Someone whistled. It was almost certainly Andy’s wife Quynh.
“ExCUSE ME,” said the Englishman, shooting up from his chair; he was beet red. “I don’t know what sort of date you call this, but -”
“I don’t think it’s going to work out, Stephen,” Joe said, sort of apologetically but not very sincerely. “We have some catching up to do. Good luck with, uh, the dating thing.”
Stephen, if that was his name, started spluttering. Nicky grabbed Joe by the hand and dragged him out of the café. It was still raining; they made a dash down the road to stand under a bus shelter.
“Shit!” said Joe. “I left my jacket.”
“I’m sure Nile can grab it for you,” said Nicky. “Unless you want to go back in there.”
“No.” Joe shivered. “No thank you. I couldn’t hear myself think over the sound of his voice, and I work with academics, I’m practically immune to that. This is the last time I let anybody from biology set me up on a blind date, screw you, Meta.” He shook his head, as if casting that whole line of thought away. “I am so sorry; I don’t even know your name.”
“Nicky,” said Nicky, holding out his hand; they shook. “I am a friend of Nile’s. We provide medical aid at protests together.” He didn’t mind telling Joe that; Nile had told him he knew about that particular hobby of hers, if you could call it a hobby.
“Nicky,” repeated Joe. “Well, Nicky, you really are my hero this evening. Can I buy you a drink, to say thank you?”
“You don’t owe me anything, it was my pleasure,” Nicky said, “but…unless you have had enough of blind dates for the evening, and I take no offense whatsoever if you have…I was about to go and get a proper dinner. Would you join me?”
Joe didn’t even hesitate; it was the most flattering thing that had happened to Nicky in years. “Of course. I need to hear the full story of how you cruelly broke my heart, and where, and when, and how we have fatefully recollided in a foreign city.” He winked. “And if I’m, very lucky, maybe there will be a proper kiss at the end of it, instead of the show we put on in there.”
“Sounds like a romance,” Nicky said, holding out his arm. “I’m excited to see how it plays out.”
“Me too,” said Joe, taking his arm. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. They stepped out from the shelter, and walked up the road together.
*
“Is Joe coming back for his jacket?” Andy asked Nile, an hour later. “I owe him and Nicky a drink each on the house, for that performance. Funniest thing that’s happened in here for months.”
“I don’t think so,” Nile said, showing Andy her phone. There was a text on it from Nicky.
Taking your supervisor out for dinner. He’ll come and get his jacket tomorrow. Don’t wait up.
“Damn,” said Andy. “Smooth work, Nicky.”
Nile laughed. “Looked like a team effort to me.”