Left Without Words - 1. Chapter 1

To think...I was actually a bit upset when my mom told me to run out to the Greek carry-out place down the street to pick up some lunch for us that weekend. Me, my mom, and my little sister. Milo's was the name of the place, and they really did have some of the best food in town as far as I was concerned. The kind of food that tastes so good that you keep eating even after you're full enough to burst. The flavor was enough to make you smile on a rainy day. Every time my mom even suggested getting stuff from Milo's it was like a field trip. I just didn't feel like having to get on my bike and ride down there to pick it up myself on that particular afternoon.

With a few typical teenaged groans and complaints, my mom handed me her credit card and sent me on my way. I guess it wasn't that long of a trip, but when you're 14 you can't let your parents push you around without giving them at least a little bit of grief. Otherwise, they'll think they can start pushing you around all the time.

Milo, himself, would be there. I swear, there was never a time when he wasn't there. But he took pride in his business and had a great deal of love for his customers. So where else would he want to be? I'd show up, and Milo would always give me little extras and freebies to take home. To be honest, I think he has the hots for my mom...which is actually pretty creepy so I try not to think about it too much. But hey, if the old guy lets us have free food and drink, I guess I should consider that a pleasant side effect of having a nice looking mother.

"Shane! My boy! Come in, come in!" Milo shouted as soon as I opened the door. He was one of those sweet old guys that acted as though he hadn't seen you since you were a baby every single time he laid eyes on you. Even if you had only been there a few days ago. "How are you? How is your mother?" He wiped his hands off on his apron as he came from around the counter to give me a hug. I have to admit, I don't think I've ever come into contact with anyone who showered me with more special treatment than Milo did. It was actually kind of neat. I felt like a celebrity when I came into the place, and through a heavy Grecian accent, he'd talk to me as though I was his own son. Who wouldn't love that kind of attention?

"I'm good. Mom sent me to pick up some stuff for lunch...so I guess I'll get the same ol', same ol'." I said.

"Ahhh, Shane, you eat and eat and never gain a pound. I envy that. I eat one piece of candy, and I blow up like balloon. But YOU, you stay the most handsome red haired boy in town. I do not understand." Milo smiled and walked back around the counter. "I'll make it myself. Special for you and mommy, ok? And I add cookies for Sarah too."

"Ok, sure. Thanks, Milo." I said.

"Go, have a seat. I take fifteen minutes. No more." He went in the back to prepare our exclusive little lunch, and I turned around to look for a seat at one of the tables by the window. Fifteen minutes wasn't all that long at all. I figured I could play a game app on my phone to keep any level of boredom at bay.

Trust me...boredom was not an issue once I let my eyes sweep over the eating area of the restaurant.

I hadn't expected it at all. It was almost like being struck by lightning on a sunny day. I barely turned around all the way, and that's when I noticed someone else sitting at one of the other tables around me. Milo's was a popular spot in the neighborhood, so there was usually 'someone' in the place at all times, waiting for an order. But this certain 'someone' stood out. He stood out a LOT!

I guessed that he was about my age, but could easily be convinced that he was a year or two younger. No one my age is that...well...smooth. Flawlessly smooth. It looked like a razor had never touched his face and never would. His soft, olive colored skin almost looked airbrushed, it was so flawless. He was sitting not far from me, against the wall, writing in what looked like a personal journal. He was unspeakably beautiful, enough to stop your heart for a few beats the second he caught your attention. And how could he NOT catch your attention? His silky skin was the color of a warm pool of buttermilk...with a single drop of chocolate added to it, and slowly stirred in with the tip of your finger. The kind of color that a simple tan could never approach. It was more natural than that. His lips were full and kissable to the point where it made your mouth water, and they were just a half shade darker than the smooth cheeks surrounding them. They parted slowly as he was writing, and you have never seen a vision so inviting. His hair was a very dark brown color, almost black, but with these natural touches of gold in them. Not blond...it actually looked like it was gold. It was medium length, just covering his ears, and hung down to the tip of his long eyelashes. Just a bit longer than what I was used to seeing, and the lashes were guarding a pair of the most erotic almond brown eyes that I've ever seen. They were like marbles filled with bright amber colored crystals and covered with a fine acrylic. I was practically in love with him from the second I saw him. And since he was so focused on his writing, he hadn't even seen me watching him yet. I'm glad, because I didn't know how hard I was staring at him, and I doubt that I had the ability to stop. It's not every day that you see someone gorgeous enough to prevent your ability to MOVE.

I straightened out my hair a bit, making sure the red strands curtained my brow just right before I found the strength to consider getting closer. I nervously stepped forward and went to go find a seat. Somewhere close to him, but not TOO close. Somewhere where I could look at him, but not where he could look up and catch me being a creep about it. Somewhere where I could keep a safe distance from this personification of sexual frustration for every gay teenage boy on the planet, but still close enough to absorb some of his radiance and maybe get high off of the thrill of knowing that he was almost close enough to touch. My positioning had to be PERFECT! Perfect, I tell you!

Considering that this was a small carry-out restaurant and he was sitting at one of the only eight tables in the whole place...I guess that wasn't particularly hard to accomplish.

I tried not to look again until I sat down, but I felt my eyes lock onto him with every step. Surprisingly enough, he was even cuter up close than he was from a distance. That's a hard feat to pull off for most people. Especially with my expectations being so high. I felt my breath get so heavy that it was like trying to breathe through mud, and my dreamy gaze was magnetized to him beyond my control to look casual about drooling over him the way I was.

My God. He was so slim from the side, his short sleeved white t-shirt caressing his sides with the same level of love and excitement that I was feeling at the same moment. That's gotta be the happiest shirt on Earth. And if the SHIRT is that happy, the pants must be having a full blown 'joygasm'. Black jeans and a pair of sandals, showing off a pair of feet that were just as amazing as every other part of him. God...everything was so damn soft and just...just...'touchable'. I literally wanted to walk over and ask him if I could just run my finger down his arm just to feel his olive skin and see if it was real. Starting at his shoulder, I'd be rock hard by the time I reached his elbow, and probably would have a mess to clean up before I made it down to his wrist. Yes...he was THAT kind of cute!

"It won't take long, about ten more minutes." Came Milo's voice from behind the counter. Startling me and shaking me out of a sensual daydream that was sure to get me in trouble...um...visually speaking.

"Oh...ok..." I said, my voice cracking a bit. Calm down, Shane. Just relax, and enjoy the sight of this crazy phenomenon for a bit longer before he gets his order and walks out of your life forever.

Sigh...forever.

"Deme...come get our friend here a soda pop while he waits, ok?" Milo said from the counter.

And that's when the cutest boy I had EVER seen in my life finally looked up from his notebook, forcing me to look away quick before he caught me gawking at him. "Yes, Papa."

He SPOKE! Oh dear sweet Jesus, he actually spoke!

His voice was light, like a song, like a single ray of sunshine. Not a high voice, like a girl, just...light. Gentle. The most non-threatening voice ever. I imagine that's what an actual angel would sound like if it spoke my name. It was so graceful. So alluring.

He stood up, the subtle wrinkles of his t-shirt smoothing out as the shirt dropped to hang lovingly around his slender hips. He looked directly at me for a quick moment, and I felt my excited inches begin to swell in reaction to the jumping jacks he was causing my heart to perform inside my chest. I held my breath as he parted those delicious lips and said, "Do you want Cola?" His accent wasn't as thick as Milo's, but you could definitely hear it when he spoke, and it was soooo adorable. It was hard to think with those big brown eyes staring at me, waiting for an answer and sucking it right out of my mind at the same time.

I had to think for a second or two before I spoke, and whispered, "Uh...Mountain Dew, please."

"Sorry?" He asked. He couldn't even hear me. I had answered so softly.

I cleared my throat and tried to compose myself enough to answer in a normal voice. "Ahem...Mountain Dew, please." Much better.

"Ok." He smiled courteously before going behind the counter to get the drink for me. I didn't really count on him smiling. The sight of it froze my heart completely, causing me to silently gasp for air. I was actually trembling now. My eyes traced his every step, mentally wishing that they could slow down his movements so that I could absorb every last one of them. He was more than cute, he was downright intimidating.

He came back to hand a soda can to me, and gave me a quick nod and a grin before going back over to his table to continue writing. I opened it and had only taken a sip before Milo came back around the corner to raise a fuss. "Deme, get him a glass and some ice. The soda, it is not cold enough. You know this."

"Papa, I am trying to write." He wasn't really annoyed, but obviously trying to get re-involved with what he was doing. And like I said, at our age, you can't let your parents get away without some level of grief. That's just the rule with us.

"Write, write, write, this boy. Always. I wish your father had never bought you that notebook." Milo was also one of those guys that loved to complain and criticize, but harmlessly. Far from being a nag, I think the complaints were more about him talking to himself than to other people.

"It's ok, Milo. It's fine." I said, taking another sip. "It's cool. Really."

But Milo brought me a glass with some ice in it anyway and poured the can in it for me. "This is my grandson, Dimitry, but we call him Deme for short." The boy kept his head down and Milo added, "If he stops writing long enough, he might have time to remember his manners." Deme looked up from his book, interrupted once again, but flashed me a welcoming smile as he nodded in my direction.

"Hello." He said, his voice pleasing my senses in every way possible. I felt this weird adrenaline rush pour over my body like a cool downpour of rain, and it sent shivers through me as I tried to contain my excitement.

"Hi..." I managed to get out breathlessly. But Deme went back to his book and started writing again before I was able to expand on that any further.

He was so delicate in his motions, from the movement of his pen, to the way he would turn to the next empty page, even the way he blinked was cute. It was hard not to show the sudden infatuation that was taking me over more and more by the second. I could stare at him all day. He was so addictive to my aching heart...

"Your food is ready, Shane.” Milo said, bringing the bag out WAY too soon for my tastes. “You take this home and tell Mommy I put extra special care in it for you guys. Ok?"

I didn't even want to get up. Wondering how long I could just drink in the sight of this lovely boy before I left him behind for good. At least I knew he was related to Milo, if I ever wanted to see him again. That's a definite plus. Unless, of course, I have to fly to Greece to do it. Then that would make it a bit harder. But for a boy this perfect, I'd find a way! I swear I would!

I got up, and stared at Deme for a few seconds longer as I walked past him. "Ummm...uhh...bye, Deme." I said, bashfully. Just hearing his name being spoken with my own voice was enough to send a ticklish sensation into my heart and go bouncing around madly inside my stomach.

Deme raised his stunning eyes from his book, his soft brown gaze meeting mine and sapping the strength right out of my knees. And with a gentle toss of his hair, to see me more clearly, he smiled and said, "Bye, Shane." Awwww...I was MELTING inside! I thought I was going to scream, but luckily didn't have the breath to do so. I was, literally, one impulsive thought away from running over there kissing this boy right on the lips. He's soooo cute! Jesus! I'm such a basket case! I should just get my food and leave before I end up doing something stupid.

"Thanks, Milo. I'll see you soon." I said, and that was a promise I DEFINITELY intended to keep. Especially if HE was going to be here. I grabbed the bags, and paid Milo for the food...minus all the stuff he gave us for free...and I took a side glance at Deme again as I was walking towards the door. He looked up before I left. "Bye..." I said...AGAIN! Arrrgh! That was a dorky thing to do. Could I be any MORE obvious? He waved a little, and I heard Milo ask him to do something in Greek. To which he answered in the same language. I'm not sure what they were saying, but from the way they were saying it, Milo had another chore for him to jump into and Deme was complaining about the constant distractions. Hehehe, he was so awesome. I loved hearing him speak another language. I loved to see him move. I loved to see him sit still. His whole body from head to toe was a dream that you tried to wake yourself up from because it's just so hard to believe that the angels could make anything so beautiful and have it exist here on the same plane as us 'average' folk.

Coming home, I thought I was going to giggle myself into a hysterical fit or something. It may sound silly, but I missed him already. Can you believe that? One five to ten minute view of him, without the slightest bit of conversation, and I feel like he asked me to the prom or something. I knew it was weird, but I didn't mind it being weird. I couldn't get him out of my head. I just...let myself go and submerged myself in the idea that there was somebody out there holding my heart in the palm of his hand, whether I knew anything about him or not. It was just...hehehe, an incredible feeling. You know?

"That was quick." My mom said, probably not expecting me to come back for another ten minutes at least. Maybe it's because I was walking so fast, trying to get home before my pointless maniacal smile scared the other people in my neighborhood.

"Yeah. Milo said he made it special for you."

"Aw, well isn't that sweet? I'll have to go by there and thank him some time."

I couldn't help but smile a bit, "Yeah, Mom. I think he'd like that more than you know."

I put the bags down on the kitchen counter and my mom called for my little sister, Sarah, to set the table. Something to get her off of the blasted phone. I swear, I've never seen a 12 year old girl with so much to say. If we could use her breath to generate electricity, we could power the entire city of Las Vegas for a MONTH off of every phone call!

Girls. I'm so glad my sexuality dodged the bullet on THAT one!

We were getting ready to sit down to eat about fifteen minutes later, when there was a knock at the front door. "Don't worry, I got it." I said, and popped up from the table while everybody else dug in.

But when I opened the door...

I stood, shocked, like a deer in headlights! I felt my heart burst when I saw Deme standing outside my screen door with a small bag in his hand. I was trying to say something. I was TRYING! But my tongue went to sleep and my mouth went dry. This massive lump suddenly got stuck in the back of my throat and I felt my body start to quiver madly in his very presence.

Speak, Shane! Speak, dammit, SPEAK!!!

Deme said, "My grandfather, he forgot to put your sister's cookies in the bag. He told me to bring them by since you were only a block or two from the restaurant." He said. I hadn't even thought about opening the screen door. I was still trapped in the surreal state of chaos that came from seeing this boy in the flesh again so soon after writing him off as a figment of my sex-crazed imagination.

"Ok...thanks." I said under my breath. It took me a second to think to open the door, but once I did he handed me the bag of cookies. His hands were soft, his fingers slim and long. He looked like he had a habit of biting his nails, but not to the point where they were disgustingly low. Just enough to groom them, you know? I looked up to see him up close, even closer than I had earlier, and found myself struggling with the urge to just suck gently on his bottom lip. Deme was Heaven and Earth combined...blessed be the mother that gave birth to such a lovely creature.

I think I was staring at him for a bit longer than I should have been, and he said, "Well, I have to get back. I hope you like."

"Yeah. Yeah...I like." I giggled quietly, and he turned to walk away. But I worked up enough confidence to ask, "So...are...are you going to be working there from now on?"

He stopped and said, "I don't know. Maybe. Only weekends now." Then he turned back to keep walking back out to the sidewalk. I stood in that doorway, watching him walk, sighing to myself while the tremors in my stomach tried to calm themselves down to a less apocalyptic series of quakes. I can only imagine how many people he does this to on a daily basis. It can't just be me that's totally levelled by the mere sight of him. It just can't be.

"Hon? Who was it?" My mom called from the kitchen. I was too far gone to think straight. I just closed the door and went back to the table.

"Milo sent you some cookies, Sarah." I said, still grinning.

"Well you seem happy." My mom added, seeing the smirk that I was trying so hard to get a handle on.

"They're just...really good cookies, Mom. That's all. REALLY good. The best." I started to fill up my plate, saying, "Hehehe...I like."

I made a slightly out of the way trip to walk past the restaurant every single day after school after that. You know, just in case Deme decided to work there during the week too. What? You never know! It could happen! So, I'd walk by the window, and wave at Milo as though I was just saying hello. But the whole time, my eyes were scanning the tables, the counter, and every other nook and cranny in sight, with the hopes of seeing that lovely boy standing in there somewhere...just doing...'stuff'. God, he was cute! To think about him was to submit myself to a lovestruck frenzy of full blown chuckles. It was the only way that I could think of to express my utter infatuation with him. It was like the bubbles in a bottle of champagne, rushing to the surface playfully the second you took the cork out. The laughter would be spontaneous, and I'd sometimes have to cover my mouth with my hands to keep from boiling over like some half baked lunatic. But still, my obsession remained, and when the next Saturday came around, I found myself literally SPRINGING out of bed that morning to see him.

I fixed myself up, brushed my teeth before AND after my shower, put on some of that scented powder to smell extra cool...and I even pedaled my bike extra slow so as not to work up a sweat on my way over there. I had been plotting this out in my head for an entire week now. I wanted to do it right.

I locked up my bike by the restaurant, hoping to contain myself around him this time, but was disappointed to not see him there as soon as I stepped in the door. "Shane! You are back for more, I see!" Milo said cheerfully, coming around the counter to give me yet another hug. But I was a bit let down, almost hurt, that Deme wasn't there to give me a refill of that unique beauty that only he possessed. "So what is it today, sonny?"

"Um...just a gyro for me, extra sauce." I pouted as secretly as I could, but I could feel my heart sinking lower and lower in the void left behind such a profound loss of opportunity. "Say, Milo...I thought...I thought Deme was helping you out on the weekends." I hope that didn't sound too lovey dovey. I didn't want to make it too obvious. Like I was looking for him or anything.

"Deme? He is, he is. But, he has a poetry class in the morning time on Saturdays, so he won't be here til' 2 o'clock." Milo, forever wiping his hands off on his apron, said, "I tell you, Shane, the boy is going to have his hand fall off the way he writes. Day and night, hours and hours. I tell him, you should go out and have fun. But he won't have it. He's too focused. It's a good thing, don't get me wrong. But even the 'good' things need a level of moderation. You know?"

"Yeah, I guess." I felt my smile returning to my face. It was about 11:30 in the morning, so I knew he'd be there in a few hours. He'd BE there! Sweet! I'm going to get to see my dream boy again. And he writes poetry? That's awesome. A sensitive guy...I like it.

"More cookies for Sarah?" Milo asked.

"Um...yeah, but she's out at the mall right now with some friends." Thinking it out for a sec, I said, "Actually, do you think that maybe you can send them over later? Like you did last week?" Don't smile, Shane. Don't smile. Hold it in.

"You want me to send it later? Yes, I can do that. I'll have Deme bring them by. Fresh brand, still warm. Is 4 o'clock, ok?" I couldn't hold back anymore, and a gigantic smile sliced its way across my face, from ear to ear!

"Yeah! That'll be great!" I answered happily, and was turning to leave the restaurant and skip happily down the street when Milo stopped me.

"Shane!"

"Yeah?"

"You forget your gyro." He said, and I blushed a little as I came back in to let him finish cooking it for me, pay for it, and left. "Slow down, eh?"

"I will. Thanks. Tell Deme I said hi." It made me nervous to say it, the shakes enveloping me every time I spoke his name. But I think I got a little thrill out of saying it, regardless.

By the time I had gotten home, I had already gotten myself all worked up about the arrival of my newfound prince. He was coming! And everything had to be perfect. My mom had already gone out to get my sister's braces checked out, so I'd have the house to myself and I might even be able to invite him in for a few minutes. I felt my heart pounding already, my anxiety causing my arousal to swell and tighten beneath the denim of my weekend jeans. I've got to take a shower! And I'll use more of that sweet bath gel that my mom uses...it'll make me smell great! Oh...and I should change into some better clothes. Something...um...'hot'. I went through my closet, throwing stuff left and right, hoping to find just the right combination of shirt and pants that would flatter my shape and attitude with style. The right colors, the right fit, the right look. Ahhhh...he's coming over HERE!!! Ok...this time I'll be ready. I'll be prepared to see that gorgeous face pop in behind the screen door when he rings the bell. Hopefully I won't look like such a doofus when I talk to him this time.

I took the shower, I used the gel, I fixed the hair, I found the clothes...now all I had to do was sit on the couch, and wait for my tender beauty to appear. This was going to be awesome! Already, as unbelievable as it was, I was having visions of Deme walking into the room and taking me into his arms. I pictured him staring into my eyes for such a long time...while I stand waiting, hopelessly BEGGING, for him to kiss me. Ohhh...if his real kiss is anything CLOSE to his 'imaginary' kiss...then I was in for a long life of love and untold splendor. I sat on that couch, watching television for a while to pass the time, but every time a commercial break came on, I closed my eyes and brought my emotions crashing down on thoughts of Deme again. I wanted to touch his hair, it looked so silky and dark, so wet even when it was dry. I wanted to kiss his lips. They looked so soft and supple, with a delicate moisture that would cause them to gently stick to my own lips in the most seductive ways. I wanted to slide my hands up and down his smooth, flat, tightened chest. Sigh...he's the sweetest thing to ever cross my mind. I just couldn't get enough.

Then I heard it!

The doorbell rang! I looked over at the clock! He's EARLY!!! SHIT!!! Only by fifteen or twenty minutes, but I was sitting on the couch with a raging boner for crying out loud! Damn! Damn DAMN *DAMN*!!!

All of this strategic planning, and now it's all going to be ruined by the private party going on in my pants!

I did everything that I could to make it go down, pushed all of the sexual thoughts out of my mind, tried pushing down on the tip...lightly of course...and even wondered if sticking it in the cold of the refrigerator door would help! But when he rang the bell again, I figured that I had better think of SOMETHING quick before he turned around and left! No! I can't do this now! I've gotta...I've gotta...uhhhh...just answer the door. I'll just hide it. That's it, I'll hide it. Um...with this pillow. Yeah, that's it. A pillow. No...no wait! That would be DUMB! Why the hell would I be walking around the house carrying a pillow? What about a jacket? No...that makes it look like I'm getting ready to leave. He might leave quicker if he thinks he's keeping me from something. What do I do? What do I......

Then, as I looked down, I saw the problem magically solved somehow. I guess worrying about it so much caused a little 'deflation' down there. Sigh...thank GOD! It was still a little stiffer than usual, but it wasn't as hard to hide by just shifting my weight or slightly crossing my legs a bit. Besides, if he did notice my semi...he might end up thinking that I was bigger than I really was. And that might be a 'win' for me.

I quickly skipped over to the door and fixed my hair and clothes once more before opening it up. With one last exhalation of air, a giant puff that lightly blew up the hairs on my forehead, I reached over and opened the door. There he stood. Just...standing there...looking all...sweet and scrumptious. All that preparation, and I could already feel my body tensing up again. Still not ready to take on the heat of the intense glow that his beauty contained. "Hey..." I whimpered, hopefully loud enough for him to hear me this time.

"Hi, Shane.” He smiled. “My grandfather sent your sister these cookies from the kitchen." He was being so professional about it all. I didn't know if I liked that or not. I mean, this was me here, right? He knew my name, I knew his name...I didn't want to be a 'familiar looking customer'. I wanted to be a friend. At least for starters.

He handed them to me as I opened the screen door, and I suddenly realized that I had absolutely no idea on how to keep Deme there for one second longer beyond him handing me that bag of cookies. I didn't have any reason to ask him inside, I didn't have a plan to strike up a conversation, or anything. I think that, somewhere in my infatuated, messed up mind, I was thinking that he'd be the one making all the moves here. Now I was stuck.

"Do you...do you wanna come in for a sec?" I just sort of blurted it out before I had a chance to think.

Deme looked up briefly, and then politely said, "I can't. I have to get back to the restaurant. Papa is training me on...well...everything, today." Deme's voice maintained the cutest pitch while he spoke, his accent flavoring every word with a flavor that made me swoon to the point of dizziness. And when he allowed a boyish smile to cross his lips, it made the words, "Maybe next time." sound like a wedding vow to my pleading heart.

I felt my stomach quiver wildly inside when he smiled, and I didn't know how to answer him. "Um...ok...yeah, sure." I stumbled around for something else to say, and that's when Deme handed me the bag he was holding. "Thanks."

"I'll see ya." Deme said, and he turned to leave. Such a normal conversation between him and me, but heightened to the level of a dialogue with GOD by my feelings for him. I could probably write the whole of everything we said to each other on a half sheet of paper...but it was memorable. So very memorable. I could so easily get lost in this feeling forever. This cushion of a growing crush that didn't take much to fuel it at all. A bag of cookies and a smile was more than enough to leave me breathless at this point.

I had to see him again.

It had been 52 seconds since he walked away from my front door, but I just knew...I HAD to see him again! I don't know how I'm going to inconspicuously work that out just yet, but I just...I had to find a way. And TODAY! Right NOW, even! I decided not to think. I decided to just let my instincts carry me out the front door, and back to restaurant to see him again. I might even catch him before he gets back, right? Maybe. If I hurry.

Do I look through the window and wave? Or do I go in and pretend to be hungry for another sandwich or something? Or maybe, I just quit acting like a dork and go to see Deme directly. Just walk in, say hi, and tell him that I want to...hang out or see a movie or something. SOMETHING! Maybe ask him about his poetry stuff or...

Arrrgh!

The closer I got to the restaurant, I got more and more nervous. But I kept pushing forward, knowing that he was there, waiting for me. My thoughts got more desperate as I saw the restaurant's front window getting closer in the background as I moved towards it...but none of those thoughts could provide the elements I needed to go in and talk to him. One element...a reason that didn't look blatantly ridiculous. The second element...an activity that would let me talk to him openly and allow me to get to know him better. And the third element...a certain feeling of confidence and safety to brace myself with...just in case he says, 'No! Leave me alone, geek!' There was just no way to do this and be smooth about it. I was either going to be a total chickenheart and run away...or I was going to have to hold more courage together than I ever had before in my life, bite the bullet, and put my head in the lion's mouth. I just didn't know if I was ready for the latter.

So...by the time I had gotten to the restaurant, I got JUST enough courage to walk past the window and steal a glance or two inside while still walking by. Sure enough, there was Deme at the front counter, writing in his notebook as he stood by the register. Awwww...look at him. He's so damn cute. I've never been so enchanted by another boy before. He made my whole life an inescapable dream, and despite the seemingly easy task of just walking up and talking to him...I couldn't find the strength to do it. Walking past that window and aimlessly staring at him through the glass, I can do. And I'm pretty much a pro at accepting bags of cookies from him at this point. But TALKING? Talking just didn't work for me yet. And that SUCKS because I was longing to just...I don't know...just share some time with him. A few minutes, that's all. A single moment where his life and mine could coexist comfortably, and maybe even prove to be compatible. I don't even know what I wanted him to give me, or what I wanted to give him in return if I got it. It wasn't sexual. I don't THINK. At least not yet. But, whatever it was...it was something that I knew that I couldn't give him through the weather proofed glass of this damn restaurant window.

Still...without a plan or a thought in my head that would do me any good...I chickened out. I looked at him through that window, felt my heart get excited as my obsessive feelings rushed into it, and then I turned away. I figured that I'd just head out to the mall and waste some of my Saturday in the arcade or the bookstore. Something to take my mind off of my sad affections and help me to feel less pathetic than I do right now.

You have no idea how many video game quarters have to be spent to get the word 'loser' out of your mind when you're this smitten with some random stranger for the first time. Gaming is like a younger version of drinking your problems away. Just one more quarter, one more shot, just get your mind off of the bullshit and let it all go. Somehow...I think drinking would work better. Because the games just weren't doing the trick today.

I spent some more time in the music store, some more looking at stereo equipment...but it wasn't the same as my previous trips to the mall. It didn't hold the same vibe. Instead, my heart stayed heavy, and the dreamiest visions of Deme in that window, standing at the register, dark hair flopped into his eyes as he focused on his writing...they kept flashing in front of me. Is a crush on someone you obviously don't know anything about supposed to hurt like this? It's like starving really really bad, but instead of it being in your stomach, it's in your heart. And you can feel it. Literally 'FEEL' it! This is not cool. Not at all.

The mall had depleted its fun factor for me, so I decided to just go home and 'couch potato' the rest of my weekend away. I'm sure TV would remain my favorite distraction. So I started the walk home, making sure that I'd be able to pass by that window again to get a glimpse into heaven's treasure chest one more time to make me feel like even more of a lame. But this time, as I was walking, I saw Deme coming out of the side door of the restaurant to take out the trash.

He had, like, four bags full, his arms straining a bit to keep from dragging them on the ground. He put them down outside of the dumpster and took a deep breath as he recharged a little to lift the bags again and toss them inside.

I froze. I started breathing hard and felt like running TO him and AWAY from him at the same time. But...if God had ever given me a golden opportunity...this would be it. Coincidences, like him coming out just as soon as I came walking by, don't happen every day. I hope I'm right about this. Oh God, please let me be right about this.

"Hey..."

Deme turned around and saw me standing there, sending a friendly grin my way. "Hello, Shane."

"D-Do you...need a hand or something?" Keep it under control, Shane. Just speak normally. Breathe. Be cool. It's not ELVIS we're talking to here. Calm. Calm.

"Yes, that would be very helpful. Thanks." He said, and I walked over to help him with the bags of trash. We took turns flipping them up into the dumpster, and he slammed the lid back down, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "Thank you. I have been laboring all day like a slave here." He said, and I could only smile in response. Wow...he was here. Standing right here in front of me, and we're talking. Wow...just...wow.

"So, you're learning the ropes of the restaurant biz, huh?"

"Yes, a little bit. I'll do it for Papa, but I would so much rather write."

"That's understandable." I tried to keep myself from looking nervous, but that was NOT an easy task. I was breathing just enough to keep me from passing out, and I suddenly lost all control of my hands. I had no idea what to do with them. Put them behind me? Put them in my pockets? Play with my hair? Let them dangle at my sides? Every few seconds, my arms were looking for something else to do to keep themselves busy, and I must have been fidgeting something awful, because I saw Deme looking at them as I folded my arms.

"Did your sister enjoy the cookies?" Deme asked.

"What cookies?" I think I lost my marbles while dreamily staring into his eyes. "OH! The COOKIES! Yeah. Yeah, she enjoyed them. She can't get enough of them." I lied, not even knowing if she got the cookies or not.

"Good. I am being taught how to make them myself. I like the cooking part. But I don't like the cleaning so much." I looked at the few strands of his dark hair that was matted down on his forehead from sweating a bit, and fought the urge to touch it. "So, you go to school here, yes?" He continued.

"Yeah. How come?"

"I am coming to join you there. My father is coming here to live, and we finish setting up the house, and then I enroll in your school." I loved the way Deme's accent would fall so lightly on some words, and would be much heavier on others. I think he made an effort to regulate it and sound as American as possible, but why bother? It was so adorable just the way it was. "Maybe we will be classmates?"

"Maybe, you never know. That might be kinda cool. Unless it's English or something. From what I saw, you've got a lot more writing practice than I do."

"Oh...heh heh...yes. Papa says I write too much. My mother and father say I write too much. Everyone." He giggled. "But I like it. I start to write, and all of my heart comes out at once. Then, I go back and look at it later, and I say 'whoah, I remember that'. It brings back old feelings and memories for me, so I want to remember this someday." How I could be this goofy over the mere looks of this boy, completely enveloped in a daze, and yet could still hear and absorb every word that he said to me, was beyond my comprehension.

"That's...that's so awesome..." I sighed, still not able to put more than a few syllables together in his presence. I don't think he had any idea of how gorgeous he was. None at all.

"Do you write at all?" He asked.

"Not unless you count homework. I don't think I was blessed with the gift."

"It's no gift. Just expression. If you let go, it will just happen. The hard part is letting go." He was looking at me, and I started to giggle a bit to myself. I don't know where the hell it came from, but this flirtatious little laugh escaped from my lips and I couldn't believe that I was making such a jackass out of myself. "What?" He asked, seeing me trying to fight back a few snickers.

"Hehehe...nothing..." I was blushing. Dammit! STOP blushing! STOP smiling! He's going to think I'm some kind of psycho!

"You are laughing." He grinned, my giggles being contagious.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are!"

"Am not! Hehehe!"

"There it is again! You are laughing at me." Deme gave me a little shove.

"No, no, really. I'm not laughing at you. Ok?" I said.

"Well, this is a good thing then." Deme's smile was so heartwarming. Oh how I would love to lick those candied lips of his, from corner to corner.

"Deme..." Came a voice from inside. Milo's, followed by a stream of fluent Greek that just sounded like another long list of parental chores by the mere tone of it. All parents and grandparents have this universal language of annoying 'busy work' that they pass between each other and hand down to the rest of us over time. It's not hard to recognize when you hear it.

Deme spoke back, and his voice was even sweeter in his own tongue than it was in English. Then, he turned back to me, "Papa wants me to scrub the grill now. More cleaning. I will sleep very good tonight." He smiled in my direction, my insides turning to jelly, and I tried not to look him directly in the eyes.

"Bummer. Well, if you ever...you know..." I started to get something out, but couldn't find the words. Then Milo's voice interrupted again.

"Deme..."

"Papa, wait! I'm coming." He looked back at me and urged me to finish what I was saying.

"I'm sorry. Go ahead. I'll talk to you next weekend or something. K?" I could feel myself growing chicken feathers already as I started to take my first step backwards.

"No, it's ok. He can wait. Besides, I need the rest." He smiled.

"That's alright. I don't want to get you in any trouble."

"It's not trouble."

"Not yet, it isn't. Hehehe..." I tried to giggle a bit, hoping he'd write it all off as a joke.

He didn't. "You were saying something. I want to hear."

"I..." I gave in, but only a LITTLE, "...I was just going to say if you ever wanted to hang out or something...you know...I could show you around town or something. But we'll talk about that later, ok?" I was shaking SO bad at this point that I doubt I'd be able to walk straight, much less run away from him.

"No, that's not a bad idea at all..." Deme said, but all I was concerned with was sticking my head in the sand and getting rid of the butterflies in my gut. "I would like to..." I didn't let him finish.

"Nevermind. Look, maybe I'll come by some time. You know...like....later." I was walking backwards now, just trying to get out of there. Panic was beginning to set in, and I was doing all that I could to get out of there before the tension inside snapped me apart like a dried out rubberband.

He called out to me. "Shane. Come see me tomorrow. Ok? Come by, I'll be here." I stopped walking, not sure if I had heard him right. Hoping that maybe his English was a little backwards and he didn't know what he was saying. Praying that my infatuation with him could kind of stay inside of my mind where everything was safe and sexy and...predictable. Because THIS? THIS??? I had no idea what to do with this.

"See...see you? Here? Tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yes. If this is possible."

"Well, I don't...I mean, if I have time...I might just..." No! No, Shane! Don't you dare mess this up! Crush or no crush, you tell that beautiful piece of perfection that you'll BE here! "I'll...yeah. I'll be here. I'll definitely be here." I said, now smiling out of control. I couldn't believe it. Not only do I get to see my baby again, but I had an 'invitation' this time. No excuses, no chickening out, no walking past the window. Ok...this is just a little bit scary, but in a really good way. Maybe even the BEST way!

Deme let his grin spread widely across his face, and his eyes sparkled. "Good. I will see you tomorrow, then. I will cook you something for lunch, so don't eat, ok? I am practicing."

"Ok...sure." I said, now feeling these jitters of mine sink lower and lower in my stomach until they reached a certain piece of me that I didn't want to shake in Deme's direction just yet. Not standing here in an alley, that's for sure. "I'll see you later, Deme." God, his name tasted so sweet in my mouth.

"Bye, Shane."

"Deme!" Came Milo's voice again, and Deme went back inside with a frustrated tone that they playfully argued back and forth with for a few minutes while I took off for home.

I was flying. Emotionally zooming down the street on a single gust of wind. It was such a wonderfully satisfying feeling to think about Deme, and dream about Deme, and fantasize about Deme...but...that was all in my head. That was just all a part of what I wanted and me just going ga-ga over how cute he was. But this NEW feeling? This was the beginning of something altogether different. I mean, I'm not just looking at him through a window or drooling over him from another table in the restaurant. This was actual interaction here. This was a direct head on collision between his world and mine. And now I was left with more emotions bubbling over than I knew what to do with.

That's a good thing, right?

Tomorrow...tomorrow...

What the hell am I going to say to him tomorrow? What am I going to wear? Oh man...I wanted to hang out and talk to him SOOOO badly...and now that I've got the attention of the most incredible boy ever...

What do I say? WHAT DO I SAY???