My Cup of Tea (snowbaz)

Chapter Eleven

Fate. Simon couldn't stop blushing at that. 

He started to feel less nervous as the time passed. He had to keep telling himself that this was a totally normal and that he just needed to handle this the same way he would on a date with a girl. It took a few minutes to get used to it but Simon had to say that it was going very well. Baz was sweet and caring and so beautiful and he couldn't take his eyes off of him in that floral suit. 

"So," Baz said, "tell me more about yourself. Where did you grow up?"

Simon clenched his jaw. This had always been the part that he feared the most. Most people had simple answers to questions about their childhood but Simon's own childhood was a little more complicated. He was always scared that his story might scare people off because it made him seem so broken. He always had to add that he was happy now and that all of that was in his past just so people didn't feel too sorry for him. 

"Uh, I grew up in London."

Baz nodded. He looked actually interested in what Simon was saying which made him smile. 

"How about your family?"

Simon fumbled with his fingers under the table. "Uh, no family," he said sheepishly, "I grew up in an orphanage. I don't know what happened to my parents. I think my mother died during childbirth and my father couldn't take care of me."

Baz's eyebrows furrowed in sorrow. Simon noticed that his hand was on the table and Simon reached out tentatively and placed his on top. His eyes fluttered shut when he felt the coolness of Baz's skin against his own. Simon had touched girls on dates before, sweet little touches like this, but none of them had made his body feel so explosive. It was like every nerve was suddenly aware of everything around him. It was like he was touching the bloody moon. 

"How did no one adopt you?"

Simon shrugged. "I'm a wreck. Even back then I would always mess everything up, you know? Like I would try to make a sandwich and end up setting something on fire."

"That actually happened, didn't it?"

"It did."

The boys smiled at each other from across the table. Simon noticed a certain twinkle in Baz's eyes that made his knees weak (even though he was sitting) and made his heart leap into his throat. There was something about the dark-haired boy that made him feel somehow complete. Like this was truly the person for him. And this was only their first date. 

"How 'bout you?" Simon asked.

Baz leaned back in his chair, his hand slipped out from under Simon's. "Mine is the typical story of a severely insecure gay man with a perfectionist father, a dead mother, and a dream of escaping this life and living the one of my choosing. That's actually why I go to the tennis club. The one next to your coffee shop. It's the one place I can just be me without lurking in my father's shadow."

"I bet that can get intimidating," Simon agreed. 

"Very true. I used to want to be a violinist, believe it or not."

Simon liked the thought of Baz playing the violin. He could picture it in his mind, clear as day. He could see Baz's long hair falling onto his face as he swayed to the sound of his own beautiful music. Simon knew that Baz would be good at the violin because he knew that there couldn't be anything he was bad at. Baz was the embodiment of human perfection. 

"I'd like to hear you play," Simon said. 

"I'd like to show you sometime, but that's probably more of a third or fourth date activity," Baz decided with a smile.

"Oh," Simon gasped, "so there's going to be a third and a fourth date?"

"Believe me," Baz smiled, "there will be far more than that."