I think I looked very strange writing this chapter because I was GRINNING LIKE A FOOL the entire time. SO MUCH SQUEEEEEE.
Love, Cam ❤
Hazelnut Latte
In the afternoon, I heard Misa raising her voice slightly from the communal office, so I stuck my head out of my office. She was flicking through her phone, talking angrily on the office phone. "But I can't see where on earth this delivery was supposedly pencilled in. No one pencilled. There is absolutely no pencilling here."
Ian popped up from behind a desk, sending me into heart palpitations. "Tom, I need your head."
"On a platter, or...?" I asked.
"Memory man," he tapped my forehead and then handed me a tablet. "Do you know Angelo's password?"
I frowned. "Are you trying to get into his account? Just ask him."
"He's out for the next two hours," Ian checked his watch. "I've got a Zoom meeting with a client, but the details are on his tablet. I don't know the link, and I forgot to ask him for his password before he left."
I thought back to when Misa had talked me through the system. "I think it's Cinzia's birthday. Which is a terrible password, he should change that. February 11th."
"Thank you," Ian took the tablet back and typed it in, unlocking it. "Thank you. Misa, you okay?"
Misa looked up, having finished her phone call. She did not look okay. She tried to put on a brave face and smiled. "Yeah, sweetie, I just have to take off a couple hours early today. I've got a stupid delivery coming in, and I can't miss it. It wasn't supposed to be here until six this evening, but... well, we got our wires crossed."
I wondered what it was, but I didn't pry. "I can drive you back, if you want," I offered. We had a company car that we usually only used to get to meetings out of town, but it would get Misa back faster than public transport would. "I've got a pretty light workload this afternoon."
Misa sighed in relief. "Yes, that would be incredible, thank you. Do you mind if we go now?"
I reached into my office and grabbed my jacket, while Misa took the keys from Angelo's office. We said goodbye to the others, but Ian was busy preparing for the Zoom call, and Chris and Barbie were both in their offices focusing on their work. It was three, so the traffic wasn't as bad as it usually was, and we managed to get out of the city within a fair amount of time. Misa didn't talk much throughout the journey, checking her phone very often, her leg jiggling with nervous energy.
After twenty minutes, I caved. "Okay, what's up? You're acting really... I don't know, you're making me nervous."
"Sorry," she sighed. "It's just... it's kind of personal."
"I mean, if you want to talk about it, you can trust me," I told her. "But I understand if it's too personal to talk about with me."
Misa looked torn between the options, and the rest of the journey was made up of silence. Her flat was a nice one-bed flat, but she lived further out to compensate for the rent costs. We pulled up outside, and I went to say that I hoped the delivery went okay and that she was welcome to call me if she needed anything.
I opened my mouth and she said, "Okay. Come in with me."
I was puzzled, but unclipped my seatbelt and got out of the car, locking it up behind me. I followed her to her house, watching her unlock her door and open it. It was a nice flat, with lots of cosy knitted blankets and fluffy cushions. Misa sat on the sofa, and removed her wig.
I gaped at her head. It was covered in angry-looking red blisters. "Misa! Your head!"
"I know," she sighed, clearly having to fight to resist the urge to touch it. "I had a really bad reaction to a skin product. But I... I really dislike being without a wig, so I just kept wearing a wig, and it just... it made it worse. The delivery is a batch of these thick wig caps, so I can stop the skin being agitated by the wigs themselves."
I hesitated, but asked, "Wouldn't it be better for your head if... if you didn't wear one? I know you don't like it, but that looks really brutal."
"I know," she sighed. "The doctor said the same thing, it'll take longer to heal if I keep putting things on it, but... I can't, Tom. I just can't."
I sat down next to her and said, "Can we at least put something on it to soothe it? Like aloe or something?"
Misa attempted a small smile. "Sure. I have a gel. It's in the bathroom."
I got up and located the bathroom. There was a tub on the sink next to a razor with a 1mm guard on it, and one in the cabinet above the sink. Both of them had prescription labels on them. I raised my voice. "The one in the cabinet or the one next to the razor?"
"The razor!" Misa replied, so I picked up the tub and walked back into the living room. She awkwardly explained, "My hair doesn't completely fall out. It mostly does, but some patches grow still. I shave those, that's why I have a razor."
I nodded. "I understand. You know, if you're really uncomfortable with it, Misa, you don't have to talk about it. I can see it's a big deal for you to just be doing this."
I took the lid off the tub and offered to do it for Misa, who sat back and accepted that it was easier for me to see her head. I started gently applying it, and Misa's shoulders sagged like it was a huge relief just to have the cooling effect starting from the gel.
"So, how do you store wigs?" I asked.
Misa was surprised at the question, but answered, "It depends on the wig. I have some that are just cheap synthetic ones that I wear for fun or just to have a laugh in. They don't need much care. But I have some lace-front wigs - they're more expensive, but they fit better and look more natural. Some have human hair that people donate. I tend to store those on mannequin heads. They're in my bedroom cause that's where I tend to get ready."
I nodded, gently applying the gel towards her forehead. "That's cool, I had no idea how much goes into it."
Misa smiled. "A ton goes into it. Styling wigs is different to styling hair, you have to learn it all over again. I started wearing them in school, though, so I learned early."
"Do you wear them at home?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "I like to give my scalp a break, even if it is a small break." She sighed as I finished and replaced the cap. "Thanks, Tom. I appreciate the help. I know this probably seems ridiculous, like I'm putting myself through absolute hell just to... to stop people looking at me."
I frowned. "Is that why you're doing it? Cause people stare?"
"Partially," she sighed, twisting her hands around. "When people see someone who is like, totally bald, they think... well, they assume that person has cancer, and is going through chemo. That gives me weird feelings, mostly because I get guilty for being mistaken for someone who has a way worse situation than I do-"
"You've got nothing to feel guilty about," I told her firmly. "Just because you're not going through chemo, doesn't mean you're not going through something hard."
Misa flashed me a grateful smile. "Thanks, Tom. I need to hear that sometimes. The other reason I don't do it is because... well, I don't think I look very good bald, and people might laugh at me. I realise I'm a coward - my friend Reiko, they're in my Asian Women with Alopecia group, they do the whole going out natural thing, and they look so elegant and awesome. I don't know, they're braver than I am."
I waited for her to finish, and carefully said, "Reiko might just be further ahead than you in terms of being able to cope with the anxiety of it. And that's okay - if they are ready for being in public and risking people laughing at them, then that's so great for them. But that doesn't mean you have to be ready for it yet."
"Thank you for not telling me that people won't laugh," she smiled a little.
"I know people might laugh," I replied, and then leaned back in my chair. "Trust me, I know that. When I was a kid out with my mothers and they held hands, and people said stuff... yeah, I learned pretty early on that people might laugh at anything they don't really understand. They might be really mean."
Misa looked sad, and said, "I just wish I could be me, without it being so very difficult."
I smiled. "Well, why don't you start with something smaller?"
"Like what?" she asked.
I said, "Well, at work, you can close the door and be in your office alone. So why not take a wig that's easier to remove and put back on, and tell the others that they have to knock and wait before they enter. Then take your wig off while you're alone in the office."
Misa considered it, and reluctantly said, "I could do that."
"Then once you're comfortable with that, you could try doing it when you're with me, or Angelo," I continued. "Or, maybe you'll never get comfortable with it, and you'll know that you have to figure out a better way to take care of your skin. I don't know. But it's worth a shot, right?"
Misa gave a small nod, and I realised she was welling up with tears. I put my arm around her, and she wriggled away, protesting, "I'll get gel on your clothes!"
I pulled her back in anyway, and she sniffed. I smiled and said, "I know you know this, but just in case it needed saying - I think you're beautiful, with and without your hair."
"Thanks," she replied, and then sighed. "I just... it's hard to go totally bald, you know. It's okay for men once they're past a certain age, but women really get a lot of shit when they lose their hair. It's hard to feel... well, it's hard to feel like you've got a style, you know?"
I mused. "You know, if you wanted someone to put some looks together for you, Ed would be pretty good at that."
Misa tensed, but said, "What do you mean?"
"Well, Ed shaves his head off whenever he goes on a tour for drag," I explained. "He finds it easier than messing about with his hair, so he can put his wigs on. He always wears some kind of fabulous accessory when he's not in drag, though. I think he'd have some good ideas."
I took out my phone and sent Misa Edward's contact details. "Just message him if you want to, any time," I said. "I won't tell him or anything, just do what you feel comfortable with."
Misa sniffed and nodded, wiping her eyes. "Thanks, Tom. You're a good friend." She sighed. "Can you tell me something about you? It doesn't have to be super personal. I just feel exposed right now, and it'd help if it felt less unbalanced."
I offered her a smile and said, "I'm going on a date with Angelo tonight?"
Misa's head whipped up and she gaped at me. "What?!"
"Trust me, I'm not really sure how I managed to pull it off either," I confessed. "But if you want the story, I'm going to need a coffee, because I saw you have hazelnut syrup on your kitchen counter and I really want a hazelnut latte."
*****
When I got back to the office, Angelo was back too. Ian, Barbie and Chris were all finishing up for the day. Ian asked if Misa was alright and got her delivery, and I nodded and said, "Yeah, the delivery guy was a bit of a dick, but all sorted."
Ian took the hint that I wasn't going to share any more information about the delivery than that, and packed up his laptop bag. "See you guys tomorrow!" he chimed, heading for the lift.
Barbie stretched out, clearly a little stiff after being at her desk all day, and said, "Anyone want to get a post-work coffee? I'm knackered."
Chris checked his watch. "Sure, I could do iced coffee. Angelo, Tom?"
Be cool, Tom. Just be cool.
"No, I hate coffee," I replied.
Nice. Very believable.
Chris frowned at me. "Tom, I have very fucking limited capabilities when it comes to noticing things about my colleagues. But even I know you fucking love coffee. What gives?"
Barbie's eagle eye caught sight of me as I shuffled my feet awkwardly, and grinned. "He's got a date."
"I have instantly lost interest, then," Chris replied, and picked up his bag, ready to leave.
God bless that man.
"I have not lost interest," Barbie's eyes glinted. I felt somewhat like a superior apex predator was after me. "Who's the guy?"
Angelo sighed. I'd texted him that I'd told Misa due to unforeseen circumstances, and that I'd managed to make her promise not to tell anyone until tomorrow. We both knew, however, that we were on a ticking clock.
"I'm the guy," Angelo replied.
Chris paused, and then turned on his heel to look back at me. "Okay, interest regained."
Angelo fixed them both with a stern look, and pointed towards the lift. "Go home. I'm sure you'll hear all about it tomorrow, alright?"
Barbie paused for a moment, clearly evaluating her options, but eventually nodded. "Only because it gives me more time to decide which joke is best."
"I'm going with a 'knock knock' joke, so don't do that," Chris told her, and they left together, squabbling over who had the better knock knock joke about Angelo banging me.
"Rude," I snorted.
Angelo smiled tiredly. "They mean well."
"I meant with the you banging me part," I said, my tone turning mischievous. "I think people forget I'm more often than not a top."
Angelo went bright red, and looked at his feet. "I... well... okay, I can't respond to that appropriately in the office. Please take me on our date before I do something that constitutes inappropriate workplace conduct."
I grinned and pushed him towards the lift. "To our date, then. I promise not to bend you over until we're somewhere private."
"Tom!" Angelo put his hand to his head, the blush deepening.
*****
I had received about one thousand date recommendations from Raven, who was the only person in my home-friendship-group who knew about me taking Angelo on a date. These had started with the dates she personally liked to go on with actual romantic prospects, such as Total Wipeout style obstacle courses and Go Outdoors courses. I turned those down primarily because they were insane.
"Trust me," Raven had said firmly. "If they can make it through a muddy obstacle course, I know they can handle my personality."
I had argued that my personality did not match the intensity level of an obstacle course, and she acknowledged that was true. She then, presumably to mock me, suggested a host of overly romantic dates that were way, way overkill for a first date.
"I'm trying to be helpful," she had grumbled, after I'd turned down the concept of anything involving flower petals and heart shaped napkin holders.
Eventually, though, I had selected a date idea by myself, and Raven had been extremely helpful in finding somewhere that not only did the idea, but gave me a discount because I knew Ross. Which, of course, led me to having to tell Ross I was going on a date. I did not tell Ross who the date was with, because I could not face Ross and Jasper hounding me about it.
I led Angelo through the city, and he insistently asked where I was taking him. I repeatedly said, "Not telling."
He grabbed hold of my hand, which was pretty bold for him, and wheedled, "Tell me! Or I'll call Edward and tell him what we're doing right now."
I groaned, but interlocked my fingers with his. "Right in my weak spot. I knew introducing you to my friends was a terrible idea. Look, you'll like what's happening, and I promise it does not involve anyone dressed up or anyone singing."
Angelo looked at me suspiciously. "That was oddly specific and that makes me think there are people dressed up and singing."
"No," I laughed, and pulled him down a street. "Come on, it's this way."
Angelo followed me to the tube, and we got on for a couple of stops, me grinning madly at him the whole way. He was so freaking adorable, looking around for clues as to where we were going, asking constantly for hints. Eventually I laughed and told him his clue was that it was a five minute walk away from the tube stop. That only led him to guess everywhere within a half-kilometre radius.
I grinned as we neared the bar I was taking him to. It was a fancy place, but I had selected it because of a specific evening they did. As we approached it, I gestured to it and said, "We are here!"
Angelo looked up with interest. "Oh, I have wanted to go here for a while, Cinzia says it's delightful."
"It is," I beamed. "And tonight I have us booked in for their Taste of Northern Italy night! They do an Italian wine tasting paired with classic dishes from Northern Italy, where their chef is from. Cinzia says you two go to places owned by Italian people so you can get a taste of home. I thought this might be fun!"
Angelo looked at me with such sincerity that I felt my heart thud painfully. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He laughed a little at himself and pulled me closer to him by our clasped hands. He was taller than me, and he leaned down slightly to press the most delicate kiss to my lips. Predictably, I melted. His lips were soft and he smelled so damn good.
When he pulled back, his eyes were shining in delight. "Thank you. That is such a kind and generous idea. You are wonderful."
I was the one blushing now. I shuffled my feet and said, "It's not a big deal, I just-"
"It is to me," he smiled simply, as we walked to the door together. "I miss home a lot. This gives me such joy."
It was the best idea I had ever had.
I greeted the person at the door and gave my booking information, and instantly she swept us upstairs into a private room. I was startled by the sight of the room; it was decorated in a way that I suspected was due to Raven or Ross, and the servers were so ridiculously dedicated to our comfort that I knew someone had meddled and got us special treatment. It was nice, though, and I felt very cared for by my friends.
Our chef greeted us in Italian, then English, looking pleased when Angelo replied in kind. They spun off sentences in rapid Italian, and I was pleased to know that my three days using a language app had helped a little bit.
"Scusa," Angelo looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Tom, I... I will teach you some Italian, though."
I grinned. "I picked up like three sentences out of your conversation, which frankly is more than I ever thought I would."
Angelo looked so proud of me, I nearly launched myself over the table at him. Then I remembered I was here to be classy, not to be entirely ruled by my penis, so I sat still and just let myself beam what I was sure was a very goofy smile.
The chef took us through a few tasters of wine, telling us about the grapes and the process of making the wine, as well as the region of Italy for each wine. I had not eaten much at lunch so I took it very slow with my sips. Each one was delicious though. I didn't know much about wine, so I was happy to learn, but my attention kept slipping to Angelo.
He was focused on the chef's words, happily sipping away and nodding enthusiastically at all of the information, interjecting occasionally to tell me a story about a certain region of Northern Italy. I watched his hands on the glasses, swirling the wine around in them, his ring clinking on the glass every so often.
"Tom?"
I looked up at his face, and realised he and the chef were looking expectantly at me. I laughed, and admitted, "I'm sorry, I had kind of zoned out." I turned to the chef. "Can you blame me? Look at my date."
The chef laughed, and said, "I never blame anyone for staring at the person they're on a date with. But now, your food will arrive. They shall have the cards explaining which one pairs with which wine, and I shall leave you to enjoy your meal."
Angelo looked amused at my shameless pride in staring at him, and we both thanked the chef. He left the room, and I turned to Angelo. "You really can't blame me, you are beautiful."
The amusement left his expression as shyness took over, and Angelo intently studied his wine glass. "Well, you are beautiful, too."
I liked that. I smiled and said, "I will say I did not eat enough at lunch, so I'm taking it slow on the wine. It is so good, though. Which is your favourite?"
Angelo immediately tapped a bottle, which was a white wine. "Friulano grape," he said. "I like white wine, but I find it can be very acidic. This is not acidic, but it is dry. What about you?"
I selected the bottle I had liked the most. "Lugana, I think. But I have absolutely no idea why I liked it best, because I know next to nothing about wine. I just know I like it."
The food arrived, and Angelo's eyes lit up in delight. He told me about the ones he ate regularly in Italy, and with every story I took bites of food, especially happy with just how much cheese there was. Everything was amazing, with really good food. The best part, though, was watching Angelo become so animated. He was often so clipped with how he spoke, or just quiet entirely, so seeing him light up and talk excitedly about food was incredible to witness.
I felt my heart beat faster when he looked in my eyes, and I knew I was so unbelievably fucked already. This man was an angel, no pun intended. I was a university dropout with daddy issues that were ridiculous considering I had two mothers.
"Tom?" Angelo frowned when my smile slipped. "Are you alright?"
I couldn't help but smile again at his concern. "I just feel like I might be punching above my weight here."
Angelo looked confused. "I don't understand."
"Oh, it just means that I'm-" I began.
"No, I know what the saying means," he said, still looking confused. "I just don't understand why you would think that."
I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. The whole 'speaking your every thought' thing was great most of the time, but damn was it awkward when it got to your personal flaws. I shrugged. "You're an amazing person, you focus all your life on helping people, and you're gorgeous, and you're humble to boot? It's a nightmare. You're perfect. I'm a uni drop out, and I'm kind of strange."
Angelo, to my surprise, burst out laughing. I hadn't heard him laugh so loudly before, and I had no idea what I'd said to cause it. "Sorry," he chuckled, his laughter dying down a bit. "It's just funny to me, that you can see all the best parts of a person, until it comes to yourself."
I pointed my fork at him. "Dude, have you seen your face?"
"Have you seen yours?" he countered, and smiled a huge smile. "Tom, tesoro mio, you are a fierce friend to everyone you know. You care so deeply for everybody around you that people feel safe and comforted by your presence. You are resilient and cheerful, and so very funny. I am very grateful you left university, because you found a life where you are happy."
I had no idea what to say. I was, for once, stunned into silence.
Angelo laughed a little. "Well, I hope that is a good silence, and you are not about to throw some prosciutto at me."
"I just..." I faltered. "It's just such a lovely thing to say, thank you."
We felt into a happy silence for a little bit, but then something occurred to me. "What does... what was it, tesoro mio? What does that mean?"
It was Angelo's turn to fall silent. He fiddled with his fork for a second and then looked at me guiltily. "The literal translation is 'my treasure', but it's more like calling you... I don't know, my love, or my sweetheart. Something like that. I'm embarrassed it slipped out, it's a bit too much for a first date."
"Maybe if I didn't know the person," I mused, and then said, "I realise that everyone says that people should play hard to get, but... thing is, with you, I'm really not hard to get. I like you a lot, and I said I wanted to take you on a date knowing that it means a lot to you. So, I just want to clarify, it means a lot to me too. So call me what you want. Anything you want. I like it."
Angelo took a huge gulp of wine and said, "You are far, far too wonderful for your own good, Tom."
*****
A/N: I know nothing about wine, it was all from a google search lmao