Twenty-four

This one was a process that happened over a week with Twenty-four, so bear with me.  He started coming to the salon a few months ago, and he lives in the neighborhood and hangs out at the café across the street – I typically run into him a few times a week.  Twenty-four is a 23-year old, tattooed bike messenger with ridiculously huge, pure muscle for legs and butt; he likes to cover those legs with tight pants, and sometimes skin-tight, black denim cut-off shorts.  It’s ridiculous, but somehow once you know him, it seems totally fine.  Everyone at the salon adores him and his butt.

Sequence of events: he mentioned to his stylist that I was cute; one day at the café I asked how he was doing, and he replied with, “I’m much better now,” and he compliments me or whistles at me pretty much every time he sees me.  Then we hosted an event at the salon, and I asked if he was coming by but he had to work; however, he ended up making it, saying he rearranged some things.  A few nights later after work as I was leaving I saw him and chatted with him while I waited for the bus.  During this conversation he mentioned that he was moving to the neighborhood near where I dog sit. He also made a comment about how everyone at the salon is nice, but he wonders if it’s just because we have to be like that.  The next day I saw him and told him, “Just for the record, I wasn’t on the clock when I saw you last night.  I didn’t get paid overtime to cross the street and talk to you.”  He said he thought about it later and felt badly about how that sounded.  I told him I was just giving him a hard time and not to worry about it.  Then I asked him if he had any nights off in his new neighborhood that week because I was going to be watching the dog.  Our schedules didn’t coincide, so I told him never mind, to which he replied, “Well it doesn’t have to be this week, it can always be another time.”  For some reason, I got all coy or shy, and said, “Oh that sounds like long-term thinking, and I’m not up for that.”  He answered that it was just a drink as I walked back into the salon.  An hour later Twenty-four came in with a bouquet of flowers and a blushing face and told me, “Remember what I said” before walking away.   Who can argue with that?  I went outside a minute later to give him my number, but he was nowhere in sight.  For two days I walked around with a thank you card with my number in it, until I finally saw him.  He sent me a message a few hours after I gave him the card, and we made plans for a date.  Yay!