If you want to make God laugh tell him what you have planned.
"The polar vortex would ruin everything."
"Why do you say that?"
Noah proceeds slowly down a long one-way street with his earpods in, and the door closed. The blistering winter beating at his door, attempting to enter the warmth of the FedEx truck.
"We've been talking on Match for over three months. With this pandemic the way that it's going and now introducing a polar vortex, I'm starting to think that we will never meet."
"I'm not going anywhere. You have all of my attention. Anyways it's a little difficult juggling multiple guys in the middle of a Masters of Fine Arts program and global pandemic," Lucas says, standing before a huge bay window.
Instantly Noah's tires slide on a sheet of ice, sending his truck plowing into a snowbank. At the exact same moment, Lucas hears a crash and runs, grabbing his jacket.
"DAMN IT!" Noah says as he tries desperately to back the truck up.
"What was that?"
"The truck. Its stuck in a snowbank. I don't think I'm going to be able to move it tonight with this snow coming down the way that it is."
"Noah, where are you?"
"I'm still in the truck, but I think I am on the corner of 122ND."
"I live on 122ND," Lucas replies, placing a thick peacoat over his SpongeBob hoodie and black workout joggers. As he opens the door, the wind knocks his messy bun from atop his head, freeing his beautiful curly hair to dance in the winds orchestrated madness."
"I'm on your street?"
"Yes, I can see the truck and that snowbank in the distance. That won't be cleared until the storm is over. I know that for a fact, my car is buried underneath it."
"This is unusual," Noah says, stepping down from his seat, standing at the door of the truck. He can vaguely make out a figure walking down the street.
"Are you going to get out and meet me?"
"Oh yeah, that makes sense," he replies as Lucas stops walking, shaking due to the immense cold and lack of layers.
Noah steps out of the truck and begins to make his way down the street.
"Talk to me?" Lucas asks.
"Why? Are you nervous?"
"Yes, you are the first guy I've met in New York. Besides, you're a model, which is also very intimidating," Lucas replies, stopping as he is overtaken by the wind that blows a tornado of snow about him.
When the wind subsides, Noah is standing right before him. Lucas can barely catch his breath as Noah pulls down his mask smiling. Lucas shakes himself with the help of another arctic blast and ushers Noah back to his Brownstone.
Inside, Lucas takes off his snow boots and places them near the bay window allowing Noah room to come in and get comfortable. He does not want to stare at him, but he is beautiful. Standing almost 6'4, Italian and Middle eastern, he doesn't quite tower over Lucas, who is 6'1 himself. As soon as Noah takes off his boots, a frown comes upon his face.
"Not your type?" Lucas asks, almost confused.
"Lucas, nothing about you has changed, but I don't want to turn you off. I have some pretty foul foot odor," Noah says, turning red.
"Oh, no problem. If you are comfortable, I have some of my fat boy clothes I can loan you. So that you can shower," Lucas replies as he makes his way up the spiral staircase that hugs the wall of the beautiful Brownstone.
"That would be amazing," Noah replies, following far enough that he does not catch the scent.
"Here you go," Lucas says as they stand feet away from one another. He can make out the corn chip odor coming from Noah's clearly sweaty feet as he hands him towel, robe, and clothes. "This is the master bathroom. Not that I wanted to bring you into my bedroom, but the other bathroom is under construction. Please take as much time as you need. I will put something on for us," he continues as he walks towards the door.
Noah grabs him by his hand as he walks past him, "Thank you."
"You are my guest," Lucas replies, avoiding his gaze, slowly slipping out of his grip.
After a 45-minute shower, Noah makes his way downstairs. Warm spices fill his nose as he makes his way into the kitchen. There he catches Lucas throwing salt over his shoulder.
"Well, look at you?"
Lucas jumps, not hearing Noah walk down the stairs. "Oh, it's nothing, just a pot of veggie soup. Have a seat at the table; you look like you can use a hot meal."
Lucas brings in a basket of warmed bread, and Noah cannot help himself. He snags a piece and bites into it. The warm avocado butter drips from his beautiful pink lips as Lucas walks in, almost tripping with two bowls of piping hot soup, spoons, and cloth napkins.
"This isn't how our first date was supposed to go," says Noah with a mouth full of bread.
Smiling, Lucas replies sitting, "My grandmother always said, "If you want to make God laugh, tell HIM what you have planned.""
"She sounds like a wise woman."
"Yes, she was. But that is enough about Grams; let's eat."
As they eat in silence, Noah finds himself staring at Lucas. He has on a pair of thin-framed golden glasses; he has not placed his hair back into a bun, so it's just resting upon his shoulders as he takes his right pointer finger, placing some behind his ear. His dark mahogany skin almost glows in the florescent light, and at that moment, Lucas looks up.
"You are absolutely breathtaking."
Lucas stopped eating and smiles. "I hope you don't give me the Rona. You are welcome to stay the night."
As they erupt in laughter, the wind howls outside, expressing its desire to come in.