Mysterious Boyfriends Ch. 02

I realized there was a page under mine. Holy crap.

I flipped the page. The picture was of two almost identical guys, one with hair down to his shoulders and one with short hair.

"You're one of twins?" I asked.

"No, I have a brother who's 10 months younger than me."

"Wow, you're parents were busy."

"Yeah."

I looked at his profile. I took a sweeping glance at first. We both went to Berklee College of Music. We both went to the same grad school. We had the same majors, the same specialty concentrations. Four out of five of our favorite authors were the same. We listed the same musicians and movies. But what was eerie was that our taglines for our favorite things were almost exactly the same. Mine read 'Here's the way to my heart: Live music and travel, Baby, travel and live music.' 'His read 'The way to this man's heart isn't through his stomach: It's live travel and live music, oh baby, music and travel.' Angela had ended my profile with the signature, Have Pipes Will Travel.

The thing was I remembered that drunken night those many moons ago with Angela I had said to her the way to my heart isn't through my stomach. (Which for me is pretty significant considering how much I love food.) Then I made up the music, travel, travel, music line.

I looked up at this Sam-Elliot-but-sexier guy (if such a thing is humanly possible) in wonder. The urge to touch his arm, just to make contact, to stroke him and see what it felt like was stronger than the urge to have a beignet when I was starving hungry right before I went grocery shopping. The air was still crackling and was praying both that he didn't notice and that he did. Alarming and disconcerting.

"Maybe she did change it to match yours," I said, although I didn't think so.

"Well then I guess she thinks we're a match," he said.

"I'm sorry. She shouldn't have done this," I said. I folded the pages in quarters and held them out to him.

He shook his head.

I thought about the three of them pointing fingers at me. "I'm really not looking for someone right now. I'm sorry you came all the way out here for nothing."

I stared him down and tried to make my face as impassive as possible.

His face however was easy to read. The corners of his mouth turned down and a wrinkle appeared in the middle of his forehead. It was a look between wanting and despair. His shoulders slumped slightly and his long hair covered his expression for a second, hiding the wanting that I had seen there. God he had great hair. Sort of a million shades of brown with one huge silver-grey streak on the left side cascading down framing his face.

"It wasn't for nothing," he said.

Then he smiled. I was lost, I knew it.

Damn her. Meddling, meddling, Angela.

"At least let me walk you to your car."

I nodded.

I pointed in the direction I had parked and we began to walk.

"I'm surprised I didn't see you at Berklee," he said. "You're only a few years behind me and I kept my eyes peeled for every beautiful girl on campus."

I liked the way he snaked the compliment in.

"I was songwriting a lot. I spent a lot of time in my dorm and in the studio."

"Still you had to walk to class; I'm surprised I didn't spot you."

"What do you do for work?" I asked, changing the topic. I hadn't meant to engage him in conversation, but here I was, doing just that. His profile had listed his profession as musician, but many people said that but actually had day jobs that paid most of the bills.

"I'm the head guitarist for the RH theatre," he said.

I could feel my eyebrows rise. The RH theatre did an ongoing musical review of Delta music to packed houses every night.

"Then I play with a rock band, a blues band, and a jazz band. The blues band is at Bee's House of Blues twice a week and the jazz band plays the New Orleans Yacht Club brunches."

"This is my car," I said. I made a gesture to the small red Toyota that was the car I used when I wasn't touring.

He held his hand out to me.

I shook it.

A tiny jolt of pleasure zinged up my arm and it took all my control not to let it show on my face.

"Sorry again for the mix up." I got in the car and quickly shut the door behind me. I didn't start the car but just stared at him pointedly until he waved and walked away.

The corner of my mouth quirked up. Played blues at Bee's and jazz at the Yacht Club. Those were great gigs. And now I knew where he'd be. Not that'd I go, necessarily.

I hoped I hadn't been rude. I just didn't want to start anything right now.

I realized I still held his profile folded up in my hand.

I hadn't even asked his name.

Dang.

#

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