It Feels Like

He was sitting in his usual spot and he looked like hell. He was in a pair of sweat pants and an oversized hoodie with some sports team's name on it. A baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, and his shoulders were slumped over. Her heart went out to him. Everybody had felt like that at one point in their lives. She remembered not even a year back when she was sitting on her parents' couch feeling like life was over.

Aurelia raised her brows as Keri walked through the door. Keri smiled and shrugged her shoulders at the woman before walking behind the counter. She was in jeans and a black sweater with a puffy coat on to keep out the cold. If management caught her behind the counter making hot chocolate, she'd be in trouble for not being dressed properly, so she needed to be quick about it.

"He is handsome," Aurelia whispered.

"He's having a tough time. I make him special hot chocolate."

Aurelia watched her prepare the mug. "You add some cinnamon. Yes?"

"Cinnamon?"

The older woman nodded. "Cinnamon is good for hot chocolate."

Keri sprinkled some on the top and stirred it in. It sounded good. Couldn't hurt. She made herself a mug of it as well and thanked Aurelia for the suggestion. Carefully, she navigated the mostly-empty diner with the two cups and sat them down on his table before she scooted in across from him.

"Boy, you weren't kidding. You look like you're close to death," she said.

Keri wished she could take back the joking tone to her voice when he looked up at her with haunted eyes. She almost hurt for him, whatever he was going through.

"Thank you. I really appreciate the company," he said softly, pulling his mug closer to him.

She took a drink. It was good, delicious even. The cinnamon gave the chocolate a unique flavor. "I added cinnamon to that. So don't be surprised if it tastes different."

Brad sipped it and nodded his head. "It's good. What made you add the cinnamon?"

"Aurelia. She thinks you're handsome."

He smiled and dropped his eyes with a shake of his head.

"So, let's talk about this shitty job you have. I vote that you switch things up or you leave. It's not worth feeling like this."

"I can't leave." His voice was flat. "Contract."

"So, you really are a secret agent?"

His chuckle was empty and tired. "Hardly."

Keri watched as he sipped at the mug until it was almost empty. She let the silence stretch out between them before saying, "Whatever it is, it's not worth beating yourself up over each night."

"It's my life," Brad said. He sounded sad and desperate.

Keri let go of her mug and placed her hand over his on the table. "Life can't be just one thing. But, okay, it's a huge part of your life. Very important. What can you do to make it better?"

His hand was motionless beneath hers, but he looked up to meet her gaze. "I don't know. I think if I just stop trying so hard it will fall into place."

"So, it's like someone telling you not to think about a pink elephant. And then all you can do is think about a pink elephant."

"Exactly."

She squeezed his hand before pulling away. "Okay, so you just need a distraction. Want to go explore Manhattan with me?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

Keri gave him a stern look. "Are you a serial killer?"

"Uh, no."

"That's probably what a serial killer would say."

He smiled softly. "Promise."

She downed the rest of her hot chocolate. "Then let's go. I know of this great pizza place that sells by the slice about five blocks from here. And I bet we're not too late to catch some shitty band at a bar." She dug into her purse to find some money for their drinks.

Before she could pull out her wallet, he'd tossed a twenty on the table. "You're crazy," he said.

"I'm a distraction. Let's go, secret agent man."

******************************

They ate a slice of pizza each at the pizzeria where she had dinner once a week. Instead of catching a band at a bar, they ended up sitting in the cold on a bench in a small green space between two towering buildings

He was looking better. His face was less drawn and his eyes had some life to them when he talked to her about what kind of clothing she liked to design.

"Confession," Keri said, raising her hand in the air. They were sitting side-by-side watching a flickering street light.

"Confess," he responded.

"I have ulterior motives. Quid pro quo, buddy. I came out and made you hot chocolate so you'd owe me a favor."

He looked over at her with those brown eyes. Aurelia was right; he was very handsome.

"I know you're a secret agent, not a model, but I started on those pants I was doodling, and I need a guy to try them on to see if they look right."

"Me?" he asked, looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Yes, you. You belong in GQ or something. Wanna try on my pants?" Keri laughed before continuing with, "I swear to god I am not hitting on you."

Brad shifted closer to her on the bench. "Sure. I'm game. What do I have to do?"

Keri pulled her tape measure out of the pocket of her coat. "Let me take your measurements. And don't disappear off the face of the planet when I finish them."

He smiled at her, and it reached his eyes. He looked like he'd forgotten whatever was weighing on him in the diner. "I can do that."

She stood and bounced herself on the balls of the her feet. It was way too cold to be sitting on a bench in the middle of Manhattan. "Stand up and let me take your measurements."

He pushed himself off the bench and stood in front of her like he was familiar with letting someone take his measurements.

"Don't move," she warned as she reached around him to measure his waist. He laughed and held his arms out to his sides. She knelt down and ran the tape up the side of his leg.

The inseam was next and she tried not to blush. "I swear I'm not trying to touch your junk," she said as she lifted the tape measure up the inside of his leg.

Brad laughed again and helped her out by pulling up the crotch of his sweats and cupping himself so she wouldn't accidentally touch him. "I bet this is how you pick up all the guys."

She got what she needed and stood up again. "Totally," she agreed. "Hey, baby, can I get your inseam? Oh, oops, what's that there between your legs?"

He shook his head at her as he laughed again.

"Mission accomplished, secret agent Brad. I made you laugh. Now you can go home, get some rest, and kick some ass tomorrow."

He reached out and grabbed her hand. "Thank you, Keri. Really, truly, thank you."

His fingers were warm against her cold skin for a moment before he released her. "Sure. But next time you can call me instead of going to the diner and demanding that they make me come in and fix you hot chocolate."

He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "Call yourself," he explained.

She pulled up the dialer and typed in her number before hitting sending. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. "Done," she said, handing him the phone back. "You a big hockey fan?"

A strange look developed on his face. "Why?"

"Your wallpaper was a hockey rink."

"Oh." Brad nodded his head. "Yeah, I love hockey. What about you?"

"I don't know a damn thing about it. Fashion, not sports, you know?"

He nodded and offered to walk her to her subway stop.

Keri shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. Go home and get some rest. I don’t want to see dark circles under your eyes anymore.”

He gave her a small smile and waved as she pulled her coat around her and backed away from him. “Goodnight, Keri,” he said.

“Goodnight, secret agent Brad.”

*****************************************

She’d been carrying around the pair of pants for four days. Brad was in the wind and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again, so she brought them to work every day just in case. On the fifth day, he was walked in the diner at midnight. And, as usual, he looked tired and stressed.

She watched as he looked up expectantly and saw her. Their eyes locked for a moment and he smiled. Actually smiled and it reached his eyes. She couldn't help but smile back as he sat down on the stool directly in front of her.

"I've been out of town," he explained.

"I figured you were up to secret agent things. How's work?"

"Not great. I was hoping you weren't working tonight so we could go somewhere."

Keri laughed. "Are you asking me out?"

He dropped his gaze, almost shyly. "You don't want to go out with me. I was just hoping I could buy you dinner and we could talk about anything but my career."

"Well, I can't leave, but I can get you some dinner and not talk about your career. What do you want? The soup and grilled cheese is fantastic."

"Sold. Will you eat with me?"

She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. "Sorry. Working. But after you eat, you can go in the restroom and try on those pants you promised me you'd model. I want to see if they're worth my time or not."

Brad stuck his hand out. "I'll put them on while I wait for the food."

Keri almost squealed in triumph. She'd been working on several men's designs, but hadn't made any male friends in New York yet. And she definitely didn’t have money to pay a model to play doll for her. Having him on call for her needs was going to be a blessing. She pulled out the pair of slacks. They were a dark khaki with white embroidered lines down the sides. She handed them over to Brad.

Without a word, he disappeared into the restroom. She placed his order and waited impatiently. Luckily, there weren't any other customers in the diner to see her pacing back and forth.

When he came out, she hurried around the counter to get a good look. They fit perfectly, not too tight or too loose on him. And miracle of miracles, they actually matched with the sweater he was wearing. Keri motioned for him to spin around. He did and she got a nice view of his ass. It was a perfect ass and it filled up the pants quite nicely.

"You're making my pants look good," she said.

He turned around, just the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I actually like them."

"You thought you'd hate them, didn't you?" She put her hands on her hips and stuck her tongue out at him.

"I did. I was just humoring you, but these are great. Comfortable and they look good."

"Are you sure you aren't metro or gay?"

"I'm a dude," Brad said, giving her a look of annoyance.

Keri put her hands up. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. You can be anything you want when you make the ass of those pants look so damn good."

He turned his head to look over his shoulder. "Maybe your pants are making my ass look good."

She laughed. "No, definitely not. I'm sure it's the other way around."

"Can I keep them?"

She looked at him with wide eyes. He wanted to keep the pants? They weren't that good. "Uh, seriously?"

"I mean, if you don't mind."

"No! If you really like them, then please do keep them. They're all yours."

Brad sat back down at the counter and Keri retrieved his food from the window.

While he ate, they talked about how she became interested in fashion design and her plan for making it in such a difficult industry. She really didn’t have a plan, but pursuing her dream in New York City seemed like the only choice when she stacked it up against staying in Ohio and working at her friend’s boutique.

“That was good,” Brad said, pushing away his empty plate and bowl.

“You need a home-cooked meal and fourteen hours of sleep,” she told him.

“This is as close as I get to home-cooked food."

Keri shook her head at him. “If you’re not doing secret agent things on Wednesday night, I’ll cook you dinner.”

His eyes met hers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. My kitchen is limited, but I could try.”

“You can use my kitchen if you want. No one ever does.”

She grinned at him. “Really? You have an actual kitchen. Like a for real one, not just a kitchenette?”

“For real kitchen,” he agreed. He pulled out his phone and checked something. “Wednesday night. What time?”

“It’ll have to be eight-thirty when I get off my day job.”

He grabbed a napkin and asked for the pen in her apron pocket. Keri watched as he wrote an address in cramped handwriting on it. “Just give the doorman your name when you get there.”

She raised her brows. “You have a doorman?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Secret spy work must pay well.”

“It does. But it’s killing me.”

“Better to live in a cramped studio and be happy,” she replied.

Brad stood up and smoothed his new pair of pants over his legs. “I’m trying to have it all.”

“Let me know how that works out for you,” Keri said as she watched him put his coat on.

“Goodnight, Keri. Thank you for dinner. And I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Notes