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November is only slightly chilly in Los Angeles. The brisk wind is definitely there on most days, but despite the overcast sky, it is not nearly as cold as Germany, and there is never any snow.
Klavier took comfort from that; less snow—well, no snow—meant he could ride his hog most days.
There was nothing wrong with his car, really; the poor thing barely got any use these days, still shiny and glistening a deep plumb in his garage. It was nice enough, especially for days when that little part of him—the musician part that was always ready for the stage, for the attention—wanted to show off.
But a convertible and the feeling of wind through his hair was no match for the feel of the it whipping around his body.
So the bike it was that November morning, his freshly brewed tea sitting in the secured cup holder, and his bike sitting in the last remnants of early morning traffic.
Normally, if he was running late, (and he was was almost always running a bit late) the traffic would have made him antsy. He’d have been revving his engine, fidgeting with his gloves, anything to make the time sitting at the stupid red light move faster.
But as it so happened, this morning he’d woken up on time to lovely weather. The sky as a dusky blue and the first rays of sunshine through the buildings were a sleepy yellow-orange. By the time he’d locked his apartment door, the world had barely been waking. That quiet cool of morning was still present in the air, and there was an energy present in it. The kind that spoke of good things to come. So he’d hopped on his bike, stopped to get a tea, and had been, for the past two minutes and third three seconds been sitting at a red light by People Park in complete bliss.
(This is why you came to LA) he thought to himself, sipping his drink. (This feeling in the morning. Germany has its own beauty, but nothing quite like this. Nothing quite like an LA sunrise. That’s actually not a bad song title...) He smiled to himself, and rotated his neck from side to side, reveling in the pops and clicks that were left over from sleep, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the tightness still there.
The last kink finally out, he turned to glance at the sunrise through the trees of People Park. He’d only been through the park a handful of times, usually on days where it was much too nice to sit and write songs inside. There was nothing particularly inspiring about the park, other than in certain lights it looked dreamy, a watercolored blend of trees and people. No stories or particularly bad events. There was a fountain in there somewhere, but nothing but coins and oppressive writers block came out of it.
Still, on a morning like this morning when he was feeling particularly giddy, he found that people watching was a nice way to pass the time.
Which is how, in the middle of the lane backed up at a traffic light on a beautiful November morning, Klavier Gavin fell in absolute love with a stranger.
The man was on the short side and, from the way the shirt he was wearing stretched across his chest, built like a god. His hair was slicked back into some semblance of order save for the strangely endearing double-cowlick spikes that stood upright, and shone a beautiful auburn in the rising sun. From head to toe—making sure to take a good long look at the legs in between—the guy stood still, talking on the phone casually, as if he didn’t know how gorgeous he was.
He also stood there and spoke into the receiver as if he wasn’t holding at least five different leashes for five extremely excited dogs, all barking with different levels of enthusiasm. One particularly angry pomeranian directed a few yaps at him.
At three minutes and forty two second into this traffic standstill, Klavier ogled the stranger and sipped his drink as if he were in a cafe, and instead of a street to cross, it was only a few steps across the floor to ask for his name.
(His number too, if I was feeling particularly bold) he thought wryly. He could almost see it. How the morning hazy light in his hair would change to a warm, crisp amber through the glass. How he would still be on the phone, nodding and smirking, the occasional pucker between his eyebrows appearing as it did now. Maybe waiting on his drink. Klavier thought that maybe, if it wasn’t too crowded in the shop—and since it was his in imagination, it wasn’t—he’d walk over, after a few minutes of watching the man, waiting for a smile…
A horn blared behind him, and the daydream broke apart at Klavier’s startled sputtering. He had choked on his tea, mid fantasy, and had barely been able to get it into the cup holder before the car behind him beeped again.
(The lights been red for five minutes) he thought bitterly, catching his breath. (Give a man a break!)
He started his bike again, and tossed his hair over his shoulder, righting himself after the episode, which, he thought a tad bit guiltily, was a bit petty. His eyes drifted to where the dog walker had been standing.
The man was now watching him, jostled here and there by the startled animals, but he was looking right at him.
Klavier, at a loss for what to do (and he had never before been at such a loss), offered an incredulous half smile.
The man smiled back, still on his phone, and offered him a small wave. His smile was like the sun, and Klavier felt it warming his cheeks.
There was another loud honk, drawn out this time, and muffled shouting under the sound of his bike. The moment, if there had been one, was gone, and the man returned to his conversations, tugging the animals to heel. Allowing himself one last glance, Klavier sped off leaving the boy and his smile behind.
The way the world works is very interesting. People fall in and out of love everyday, with people they’ll never know. A flirtatious barista, a helpful grocery store clerk, the AT&T saleswoman at the mall kiosk; a random stranger, a fleeting encounter, and just for that moment, the brain aligns with the world and time stops long enough for both minds to think “Maybe…" before the Earth starts to spin again, and the moment is lost along with the seed of that near-crush.
This did and did not happen to Klavier; he caught the man out walking a different set of dogs again and again for the next few days and the seed grew and grew. Yet it never seemed to have enough sun to bloom.
For it was only mere glimpses of him that Klavier caught, blurred by the motion of his bike speeding though a yellow light on his way to work, and that was not nearly enough time.
Klavier found it a bit frustrating really. If there was never a red light when Dog Walker was around, how was he going to talk to him? Or, well, stare at him, since he couldn’t exactly park in the middle of traffic just so he could make small talk with a stranger.
(Well, I could, but that’s not usually thought of as romantic to annoyed bystanders behind a the wheel.)
So, since the laws of traffic had to be obeyed, and since the Fate seemed hellbent on keeping the damned light yellow or green, he could only watch the blur of this man fly by.
(And, by extension, any potential romantic fantasy.)
It was dumb, he knew, to be as upset by this as he was. It was a distant, one-sided, barely an excuse of a crush. It was unrealistic at best and creepy at most to think about approaching the man with the idea of a date. There was very little he could do on his bike, and probably even less if he used his car. The only way to talk to Dog Walker was to approach him, and he had no idea how he was going to do that.
The idea came to him on a Friday, the second traffic light before his office building. He had a week off to relax, or so his boss had told him with a cold gaze that had a hint of fatherly disapproval (at all the late nights he’d been putting in, no doubt) behind it. A week to work on his music, clean his apartment, and acquire a dog to walk in the morning.
It was a stupid idea. It was impossible. It was the best and worst idea he’d ever had to try and procure a date with a cute boy.
And yet, he sat on his couch at eight in the evening, phone in hand, and dialed his brother.
It took three rings and frustrated sigh upon answering. Kristoph wasn’t the warmest of people at the best of times. He was a defense lawyer, complete with bad eyesight, thick glasses, stuffy suits, and a near always grumpy attitude.
“Klavier, what in the world do you want at this hour?”
Klavier snorted. “Bruder, you are getting old. ‘This hour’? I certainly hope you enjoyed the Early Bird Special before heading home at, what, six? Six thirty?”
Kristoph took a deep breath on the other end of the call, and let it out in an aggravated puff. “I’ll let that one slide, since I am already relaxed. Perhaps you wouldn’t be calling me now if you went to bed at a decent hour on a daily basis.”
“Very true,” Klavier chuckled. "Your advice will be ignored, as usual, but I’ll keep a note of that anyway.” A beat. (Start with small talk, warm him up.) "How are you?”
“Klavier, I am in the bath,” snapped Kristoph. “You called me at eight in the evening, during a time a relaxation, to ask me how I’m doing?”
Klavier scoffed playfully. “Do I need another reason to call my older brother?”
“You usually have some crazy, ulterior motive. I’m just waiting to hear it.”
“Maybe I just called to say hello after all. There’s a first time for everything, don’t you know?”
He could hear a light laugh from Kris, turned away from the speaker as if to hide it. “There is. I’m still waiting on that first time. I assume you want something?”
Klavier shrugged, though he knew his brother couldn't see. “Yes.”
Oh, but how to word it? How exactly did you say to your older brother, “May I borrow your pet? It increases my chances for a date by at least ninety five percent."
There was a brief pause while he was thinking before Kristoph said, with patronizing slowness, “If you don’t tell me, I won’t know, kleiner Bruder.”
“I need Vongole.” There was silence on the other end of the phone line, and for a second, Klavier thought his brother had hung up. “Kris?”
“I might have misheard that, I’m sorry, but did you say you needed Vongole?”
“That’s her name right? Your dog? I need her.”
“What? Why in the world do you need my dog, Klavier?”
In that sheepish way that only younger siblings can pull off, Klavier hesitantly said, “Destiny?"
There was a splash of water like someone sitting up quickly in a tub, (Oh god, he really is in the bath) before Kristoph said, apparently quite put-out, “Oh no. No, no, Klavier, I am begging you. Please. Please go out and meet other men like a normal person.”
“You caught on fast,” he chuckled.
“Oh mein Gott,” Kris sighed, exasperated. “Can’t you just walk up to him, say, ‘Hallo, I’m Klavier Gavin and we should go on a date,’ and leave my poor Vongole out of it?”
“I cannot,” Klavier admitted, a bit slowly, “because I’ve actually only seen him on my way to work. From my bike.”
“Request denied, Klavier.” Kris’s voice was sharp and final. “No. Absolutely not. Either talk to the man like a normal person, or do not talk to him at all.”
“Please?” he begged. True, he didn’t really need the dog, and Kris had every right to say no. But then how was he going to make small talk with Dog Walker? The weather? The news? No, the easiest way was the subtle, "I have a dog, you have a dog, we should probably talk about our pets over a coffee.” It worked in Disney movies, right?
"Please Kris?” and then, when the silence in place of an answer persisted, in true, brotherly fashion, “Please, please please, please, please!"
“Klavier,” Kristoph scolded. “Enough.”
He tried a different angle. “Bitte, what if I grow up old and alone?”
“Unlikely. You won't even grow up, Klavier.”
He ignored the jab. “I’ll be all alone. And then I will have to adopt several cats, since I am so lonely, and then, when I die--alone, mind--you will have to retrieve my body at the morgue and identify it through all the decay and mauled flesh that was feasted upon by aforementioned cats. And then, you will have to keep the cats, since they're all I’ll have to put in my will, because I will have nothing, because I would have been so—"
“Alone, ja, I gathered that, Dummkof,” Kristoph interrupted. There were a few minutes of deliberating quiet before Kristoph sighed. "Fine. Fine. Fine, you can have her when I go out of town. I'll bring her Sunday.”
Pulling the phone away from his ear, Klavier shouted with delight. “Thank you, Kris!”
“You’re just lucky I haven’t called the sitter yet,” Kristoph told his sharply. "I am not doing this for you benefit.”
“Don’t care,” Klavier sing-songed.
“I cannot believe you’ve roped my poor pet into being your wingman. I cannot believe I agreed to it.” Kristoph grumbled. “If there is nothing, else, Klavier?”
“Nothing I can think of,” Klavier answered. “Unless you have any dating advi—“
The line went dead, and the plan was in motion.
It was not a good plan.
Sunday had went over like Klavier thought it would. That evening, Kris brought over Vongole along with her food and bowl, her leash, a few toys, and a very strict eating schedule that was stuck to the fridge and nearly forgotten as soon as his brother had left. They exchanged the expected pleasantries, and Kristoph explained how Vongole was to be looked after while the retriever mix inspected the apartment.
“She’ll be fine here. I’m more than capable of caring for her,” he remembered saying.
Kristoph has closed his eyes and rubbed under them with his thumb and forefinger as if trying to rub tiredness out of his eyes (if the man went to be around eight or nine, he was doing this only to annoy Klavier, for there could be no way on Earth the man would be tired). “This is the first and last time you keep her.”
“Sure,” Klavier agreed easily.
“I mean it,” he had ground out. “She is not to be a used as a device to help you get a good lay.”
Though he wanted to scoff and explain that he was aiming for more than a “good lay”, Klavier had settled for snorting. “Don’t worry; next time this happens, I’ll just ask for your first born child.”
Kristoph had reached out and thumped his younger brother on the side of the head. “You’re incredibly immature, you realize?”
Instead of answering, Klavier stuck out his tounge, and his brother groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his brow, alleviating what was probably the beginnings of a stress-induced headache. “Just keep me updated on her status. I will be back Saturday."
Kristoph had left Vongole with a loving pat to the head, and quiet, “Be good, and keep him out of trouble.”
And then he had been alone with Vongole, who watched him with dark, excited eyes before letting out an excited bark and returning to her sniffing of everything within her reach.
After half an hour, Vongole was riding shotgun in his car, head out the window, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as they headed to the park. It was silly to hope Dog Walker would be there, and he didn’t hope for that. Not really, anyway; no, this was to map out the park and get a feel for the atmosphere.
Of course, nothing would be set in stone until he figured out what the best route to take as so he could “accidentally” bump into the man and maybe start a conversation.
Which, as he park the car and grabbed the leash from the back seat, sounded just a bit too creepy.
(Just leave it to fate, ja?) He had thought while Vongole squirmed and whined with excitment at the sight of the periwinkle colored lead. (Well, fate and probability. If I go everyday, I’ll have to bump into him eventually.) Satisfied wiith that, he finally started on the walk. Vongole didn’t tug the leash, or run in circles around his legs, or try to trip him up, and he sent many thanks that evening that this dog had been well-trained by his brother. Things seemed to be ready to work in his favor.
Leaving it to fate had been a bad idea. Asking to watch Vongole was a bad idea. Monday morning walks were a bad, bad idea.
Monday, Vongole seemed to get the hint that Klavier was her new babysitter, and this news did not please her. It seemed she had figured out that Klavier planned to use her as a way to get a date as well. Maybe she could tell by his humming while he prepared her breakfast. Maybe she could smell it on him. Maybe she could sense the tiny spark of fear that it would not go right that morning, or the rest of the mornings after. So she barked loud enough to wake the neighbors, rolled her eyes at the leash when he asked “Walk?”, and would not stop jumping from front seat to backseat in his car.
He’d never been a pet person; it wasn’t that he didn’t like animals, but rather he’d never found the time to take care of one. It was a decision he had to make when he first moved into his apartment. Having an animal would brighten up the place, he was sure, but it would also place a responsibility upon him that he didn’t have the time for.
So that awful Monday, he was not prepared for the wrath of Vongole when he finally spotted the young man with the many dogs buying a churro and clumsily handing the vendor his money. He was dressed in well-fitted sweatpants and a black shirt that clung to every muscle the man had.
For a moment, Klavier stopped short and watched. The dog walker had two pomeranians today, and he ripped off a piece of churro for each of them, their excited yaps heard even from this distance.
It was cute. He was cute.
And there was no way he could do this smoothly. Thinking about it now, it all seemed a bit ridiculous; sliding up next to him, the familiar “come here often?” pick up line he’d planned on using tasting stale.
For right now, he was content to watch the other man smile and walk away from him and Vongole. (Maybe tomorrow.)
Vongole had other plans. She’d taken one look at the other dogs, perhaps even smelled the churro stand and had gotten excited for extra treats, and darted forward, between Klavier’s legs.
Down he went, like a character slipping on a banana peel, feet in the air before his backside hit the ground, and undignified yelp escaping before he could help himself.
Laying there on the cool asphalt he was dead weight and Vongole yelped and whimpered at the sudden stop. In his peripheral, the dog walker seemed none the wiser, and was turning the corner and disappearing behind the multicolored leaves.
He let out a long, relieved breath. Thank god for small miracles.
Vongole, after a minute more of whimpers and pitiful yelps, seemed to notice Klavier on the ground. As if in apology, she snuffled his face with her ice cold nose until Klavier sat up, lest he be covered in dog slobber.
Tuesday was his own fault.
That morning he came with a plan. Find the boy with the dogs, find away to cut him off, and pick up conversation from there by….doing something, he was sure. Say something immeasurably sexy or mysterious that warranted more conversation, say, over lunch.
It was chillier than usual that morning, and the sky was overcast and hazy with a vague threat of rain. Vongole had been trotting alongside Klavier rather obediently, and Klavier was hunkered down in his scarf.
There weren’t many people in the park this morning, and the silence was stifling. No birds had sang a good morning, and there wasn’t that ever present hum of morning conversation that came with the usual bright early mornings.
“Chilly today,” Klavier said looking to Vongole.
She looked back at him with an expression of confused irritation that only dogs could pull off.
“Well, maybe not to you, ja? With all that fur it’s probably about as brisk as a mid-summer day.” He wasn’t expecting an answer. “Perhaps conversation is better left between members of their own species. What do you think?”
Vongole tilted her head when he looked back at her, and nudged his leg with her nose. He leaned over to give her a scratch behind the ears. “Well, if you don’t mind, perhaps I’ll keep talking. Keep both of our minds off the cold this morning, hm?”
He looked up again, and searched the area, but there was no sign of the dog walker. It was almost disappointing, in the strangest of ways. Even if his plan went straight out the window today, he’d still get to see that tranquil smile of the stranger. Even if it was only for a moment before Vongole tripped him up again.
Klavier rounded the corner and came to a clearing. Here, and older man sat on a bench reading the paper several feet away, and a mother sat in the grass on a blanket playing peek-a-boo with her child who squeaked in delight every time her mother’s face was revealed.
On the other side of the clearing was the dog walker, today with several large breeds all excitedly tugging him forward to explore everything within reach. The man looked a bit startled, and was attempting to tug the unruly pack back to his side.
Vongole barked in excitement at the sight of other animals, and, momentary companionship forgotten, she moved to tug herself and her human forward and meet them. Klavier tugged her back with a quiet, “shh, nein, fraulein!” He stepped a bit back, on to the uneven dirt and dying grass behind him. “Kommen, Vongole! Sit!"
She whimpered but complied, turing on him with an impatient huff.
“Good girl,” he said with a smile, tossing some hair out of his eyes. “We can’t just barrel after them.”
Vongole gave him a pathetic yelp and then a gruff snort of a sigh.
“I am sorry, but there is a way these things are done, fraulein,” Klavier insisted. “So how about this? Now that we’ve seen them, we can try and meet them on a different rou—"
Vongole’s little episode had cause Klavier to move backward a bit too much apparently. Stepping off the side had rerouted his footing somehow, for when he started walking it was to move face-first into a lamp post hard enough to make the metallic thunk echo in his head and teeth
“Scheiße! Verdammt!” His voice was struggling against the urge to shout, and next to him the retriever picked up on his distress. He groaned and held his forehead as Vongole barked and ran in excited circles around his legs.
By the time he’d untangled himself and the pain had mostly dissipated, the boy and the dogs were long gone, and he could have sworn the retriever let out the same disheartened sigh.
Wednesday was something quite quick, and embarrassing.
He’d been walking toward Dog Walker that morning, who was jogging alongside a Great Dane, German Shepard, and two mixes he didn’t recognize. The man had earphones in, and seemed to be concentrating just on the steps he was taking.
But seeing that it was him, and so soon into their morning walk, Klavier had panicked. He hadn’t exactly come with a plan for this. There was only seconds now to think of one. Talk about his dog? No, headphones were in. Stupid thing to stop someone for. Ask about the date? Plausible, but awkward, too familiar a question he felt like. Ask him for the time? That was alright, he supposed. A normal question, easy to answer, and could lead to a short conversation maybe…
It would have to do.
He put on a smile as the other man approached, tossed his bangs out of his face, and—
And Vongole took that moment to lunge passed him and toward a squirrel who was minding its own business.
Klavier went with her, unwillingly, and nearly tripped over his own feet. He stumbled forward a bit as Vongole barked and struggled against her lead to reach the poor rodent who was now staring, frozen halfway between burying something the ground and running.
“Vongole, heel!” Klavier begged tugging the leash back. What on earth was in that food Kristoph gave her? Either she was too strong for her own good, or Klavier was in dire need of a gym membership, and right now he wasn’t sure which was most embarrassing.
She stopped moving for a split second, enough time for Klavier to regain his footing, before she took off again.
She didn’t get far. She darted to one side of a lamp post, and Klavier had remained on the other, not paying attention. It was much like Monday’s fall, save that this time he had a moment to catch himself, and huff out a shaky breath before laying on the grass, Vongole making a choked cough and, ears laid flat she approached Klavier, her whiskers and nose becoming his view of the world for a few moments before she licked his face in apology.
The sound of sneakers hitting pavement, panting, and jangling leashes came closer for a moment, and Klavier held his breath, a blush already blooming from his neck to his face.
(Look at it this way) he thought, trying for optimism. (You can try the whole “I’ve fallen for you,” bit, if he asks.)
“Good morning,” Klavier grumbled, attempting to sit up. Might as well start with a greeting, be polite. “Thank you for…stopping...”
He ran right by, and Klavier was made aware of the earbuds the man was wearing. He passed the two of them and raised an inquiring eyebrow before speeding up a bit.
The sound faded a moment later, and with chagrin Klavier realized either Dog Walker hadn’t seen the previous display and had confusedly run by a man laying on the ground with his dog, or he had seen it and couldn’t stop to chat, only finding the time to stare and judge. He was pretty sure it was the latter, but the former was just as embarrassing.
He reached up to pet Vongole’s head absentmindedly, and wondered what the likelihood of a sinkhole opening up underneath him would be.
It rained Thursday, and Vongole did not want to leave the house. She did not run to the door when he brought out her leash, and she didn’t perk up when he asked if she wanted to go for a ride in the care. Instead she barked and whined and hid in his bedroom with a favorite toy until finally he gave in left her to herself.
He turned on the radio instead and prepared breakfast, first for Vongole, then himself. The radio was quietly singing The Cure, and Klavier snorted as he broke an egg over the pan.
Thursday doesn’t even start indeed.
Tomorrow, Kris was to pick up Vongole. At this point, he’d be more than happy; Vongole didn’t seem to like the idea of being used as a conversation started anymore than her owner did, and he was starting to feel a little bit guilty about that
Today they sat in the park near a playground and pick nick area, he on a bench, and she at his feet, panting at passerby with a content look in her eyes.
There was nothing special about today; the sky was cold and cloudy, but the air was warmer than it had been the passed few days. More people were out jogging and playing and chatting as well, and Klavier figured he deserved at least one morning to sit and write some kind of tune.
He hadn’t gotten much done over the week off like he had planned; half-assed couplets to a love song he wasn’t ever going to write. He'd come today to be inspired, stupid as it sounded; there was nothing happening today, nothing he could pull from. But he tapped the pencil on the edge of his notebook anyway and flicked his eyes up every few minutes to take the world in.
Vongole rolled over a few times, silently asked for pets, and he gave them to her with a small smile.
“Looking forward to seeing Kris tomorrow?” he asked after a few minutes, staring down at his notebook.
He heard the jingle of her collar, perking up at the sound of her master’s name.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be in late tonight, I think, so bright and early tomorrow you’ll be reunited,” he told her, reaching down to pet her with his unoccupied hand. She gave it a few kisses before letting him take it back.
He tapped out a rhythm on his notebook, and shut his eyes. It was impossible to think, he found, when other plans failed. The human mind was often one-track when it started to hope, and after that hope had been crushed, it was hard to think of much else.
He wasn’t sure Kris would let him borrow Vongole again to get a date. Maybe once in a blue moon when the man was too sick to walk her, but by that time, Dog Walker could have another job. He’d have to find another way to meet him, though the more he thought about the more impossible that sounded.
(Well, this is what you get for stalking a poor, innocent man just trying to do his job. Even if he has a really nice smile and legs to dies for.)
It was another thirty minutes before he spoke, still nothing on the page. He sighed and tugged his jacket over his shoulders. “This isn’t working,” he told Vongole. She whimpered and he nodded. “I think so too. Not a writing day.”
He stared at the little swirls and stars doodled into the margins before flipping the notebook shut with a sigh, and looked up. Across the picnic area, he caught the familiar sight of the dog walker, only this time he wasn’t walking any animal. He seemed to be jogging again.
“Ah,” Kalvier said, this time to no one in particular. “Of course he’s here alone today,” (Fate’s come to mock me, hasn’t she) he thought dramatically. (No distractions between us today, and still I know I’m not going to say anything to him. Tragic, that.)
He looked down at Vongole, who’s attention was on the other man as if she knew. She looked up at Klavier, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth
“What?” he asked her. “Him? Yes, he’s very cute.”
She stood up and stretched, wagging her tail at him. He reached out to ruffle her fur, and tell her even though the plan fell through she was still good dog. She darted out of the way and leaned forward, barking playfully. Her leash was still attached to her, and out of arms reach.
“Vongole,” Klavier said carefully, standing slowly. She barked again, her tail wagging furiously. “Vongole, don’t you dare.”
He took two steps forward, slowly bending to retrieve her leash.
“Don’t you dare, Hund, don’t you dare.”
She dared.
“Sheiße.”
She took off like bullet across the park, heading straight for the dog walker himself who had, due to some sick twist of fate, stopped to tie his shoe.
This dog was either a godsend, and angel sent from heaven to guide him to his soulmate, or a punishment from hell for his own, stupid actions.
“Vongole, jetzt zurückkommen!” The animal understood more German than English, he knew. She learned most obedience tricks in German, and Kristoph often spoke only int German to her. She was no stranger to it, yet she acted as if she didn’t understand a word of it now, and he looked like a fool shouting in tongues after his unruly pet
Snatching up his notebook, he sprinted after her, cursing the whole way.
It didn’t take long to catch up; she was sitting quietly and panting by the time he crossed the park, out of breath and aggravated. He leveled a stern look at her. “Blöder Hund,” Klavier huffed, out of breath. “Are you crazy? What in the world was that about, hm?”
“I’m sorry?”
Klavier looked up, and froze for a moment.
He was definitely better looking up close. Up close he could see the whiskey gold of his eyes, the kissable birthmark in the corner of his mouth, and the dusting of freckles across his face. He looked younger than he sounded, but his eyes were stern yet inquisitive, odd eyebrows quirked just a bit to seem less threatening than his form suggested.
“Is she yours?” the man asked, and Klavier blinked and looked at the leash offered to him.
(Be cool) he thought absently, like an idiot. He’d just sprinted across the park shouting in German because he lost the pet that wasn’t even his, just borrowed so he could meet this man in person. Be cool. He could barely find the switch the told him to “chill.”
Yet he smiled his most seductive smile, tossed his bangs out of his face, and took a deep breath. “Ja, danke.” And answered in German, like a buffoon. “Ah, sorry,” he corrected when the other’s face became shocked and a little sheepish. “Sorry, yes, she’s mine. Thank you.”
He accepted the leash, his eyes darting down to Vongole who gave him an ecstatic bark as if to tell him ‘Look, I’ve made a new friend just like that! Aren’t you proud?’
His face was a little more relaxed, politely saying ‘Ah, thank god, English’ without being too offensive in the relief. “Don’t mention it. She got away from you, huh?”
Klavier turned his eyes back to Dog Walker. “She did indeed, which is highly unusual.” Highly unusual…he could use that. Smooth as ever, he amped up his smile. “Also unusual she’d run toward a complete stranger. She’s usually all about familiar faces.” He tucked his notebook under the arm that held Vongole’s leash and stuck out his hand. “Klavier."
The man gave him an incredulous, sunny smile and shook it. “Apollo.”
Apollo. It fit him in so many ways, and Klavier and to fight not to bite his lip in sudden nervousness, though he did not know why.
“Well, Apollo,” and boy oh boy was it nice to finally know his name, “It’s very nice to meet you. You must be new to the area. I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before.”
Smooth, very smooth. Close to “come here often,” but not cheesy. Easing him into the conversation. It made him look interesting, easy to talk to. Engaged the person of interest. Smooth.
Apollo knelt down to offer Vongole his hand to inspect, smiling easily all the while. “Really?”
The tone was a bit off, but talking to him while not having to meet his eyes made his voice come a little easier. “Oh, ja,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “I walk my brother’s dog—Vongole, say hallo—" and she did, giving Apollo’s face a lick and nudging his hand, demanding pets— “on walks here pretty often. I don’t think we’ve met before now. I haven’t seen you.”
The dog walker leaned back on his heels and looked up at Klavier, and there was a look in his eye that suddenly reminded him of a lawyer about to tear down the testimony he was given.
“It’s funny you’d say that,” Apollo started slowly, his eyes wide and brows raised in false innocence. Klavier watched, amused and nervous. “Unless your brother is the spitting image of you, gaudy clothes and all,” and with that he gave Klavier a quick once over, “you’re the guy who’s been trying to catch my attention all week by following me around the park.”
It was like someone had lifted the needle from a record player. Brian stopped spinning, thoughts stopped coming, and for a moment his brain was only a neon sign proclaiming “DANGER: OUT OF COMMISSION. PLEASE EXCUSE US FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.”
“Ah, well. I—you see that—I’m…” Oh very eloquent!
Apollo stood and laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not too upset over it.”
‘Right…” was all he could manage.
“After all,” Apollo continued, tone teasing. “It’s not everyday you get a stalker that’s actually easy on the eyes.”
Jesus, global warming really did a number on these morning. His jacket was stifling in this heat, and his face was hot. “Right,” he said again, and, realizing what he’d just said, “Uh! Wait! No I wasn’t—that wasn’t my intention. To—to, well. Er.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and shut his eyes.
“Keep going,” the man said in an easy tone, a tremor of innocent laughter bubbling under his words. “You’re doing fine, I promise.”
“Why thank you,” Klavier grumbled, moving too give Apollo an apologetic smile. “I am very sorry. I…did not mean to come off like that.”
“Nah,” Apollo answered, waving his hand as if to wave away the awkwardness. “It was a valiant effort. You even walked into a pole, right? Or did I imagine that?”
“You did not,” Klavier answered, ears burning in embarassment.
“And the other day you went down pretty hard. You were laying on the ground for sometime.”
Ah. Well, that was it then. He was done here. He definitely had made a fool of himself in every way imaginable, and he was already warm enough with embarrassment. “If you’ll excuse me—“ he started, looking to move around Apollo.
The teasing look on the others face was gone, replaced with sudden shock and an apologetic wince. “Er, hold it! Wait a sec, sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just…”
“Nein,” Klavier protested. “Really, I do need to leave.” (Immediately, before you realize I was the fool on the motorcycle as well.)
To his surprise, Apollo sighed and nodded. “I do too. I’m probably going to be late to work at this rate but, uh…” he patted himself down and gave a frustrated huff. “Sorry, you…wouldn’t happen to have a pen on you, would you?”
His heartbeat picked up. He wasn’t….
Almost as if he was in a trance, he plucked the pen he used earlier from his pocket and handed it over.
Apollo took out a card from his wallet and scrawled something quick across it. “The card is my business card, but it only had the number for the offices, not my cell phone.” He coughed. “I uh. Well, I mean you fell pretty hard the other day, and since we’re both out of time to talk maybe…uh…” he trailed off with a curse.
Klavier got the hint, and said half desperate, “Maybe we could continue it over coffee. Saturday. My treat, since I, er, stalked you.”
The sun peaked through the clouds and distantly a bird cried to the first rays that hit its nest. Kids called to each other from the playground, and the far away sound of traffic reach both men. The shift from morning to noon held with it a change in the air that wasn’t only felt and never seen. A shift that brightened grins only lightly, and made voices just a tad louder around the office. Everything finally became excited to be alive and awake, held in the warm caress of November’s afternoon sun.
Apollo smiled shyly. “I think I’d like that.”