Mario - A Story - 29

An hour later both men were shaking their heads when the waiter asked if they’d like dessert.

“Where would I put it?” Mario muttered as he rubbed his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve eaten this much, and enjoyed it this much, in…I honestly don’t remember when to tell the truth.” He smiled at Tate and said softly, “Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming with me. I hate eating alone, especially when I have the chance to have such a great dinner companion.”

Again Mario glanced away, as he had every time Tate had complimented him on something. Tate wasn’t going to allow that this time. He moved from where he sat across from him to the chair beside him and took his hands. Startled, Mario looked at him and Tate smiled.

“I don’t think it will come as any surprise when I tell you that I’m beginning to care about you. A great deal actually. I…well I hope, maybe, that my feelings are reciprocated.”

“I…” Mario whispered, not taking his eyes from Tate’s.

“Yes?”

“They are, but I’m scared.” Mario’s words were so soft that Tate barely heard them.

“Please don’t be. I’m not him, Mario. I’m nothing like him,” Tate replied gently. “I promise to try never to hurt you by word or deed. Just give me a chance to prove it?”

Mario smiled a bit at that. “At least you’re honest and said ‘try’. And I know you won’t if you can help it. I suppose that’s all anyone can ask so yes, I’ll give you a chance.”

“Yes!” Tate resisted the impulse to pump his fist in the air; but not the one to lean in and place a soft kiss on Mario’s sensual mouth. When Mario returned it tentatively Tate smiled against his lips then slipped his tongue out to trace the crease. Only the low cough from beside him made him stop. He looked up into the amused eyes of their waiter.

“I was going to ask if you wanted more coffee,” the man told him, “but I think you have other things on your mind at the moment.”

While Mario turned bright red Tate asked the waiter for the bill, which the man promptly set down on the table in the usual check presenter. Without looking at the bill, Tate laid a credit card on top of it and the waiter left.

“Tate,” Mario admonished, “you should always…”

Tate put a finger over his lips. “I know, I know. Next time I will. All right?”

Impulsively Mario nipped his finger and laughed as Tate pulled it back in surprise. “That’s what you get for shushing me.”

Tate chuckled. “And I deserved it.”

The waiter returned then, Tate signed the slip, adding a sizable tip, before he asked Mario, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes. This has been wonderful but I suspect we should get back so I can go pick up Wil and head home.”