Delicious - 7. Faris and James: The Beginning

Faris and James: The Beginning

As suggested by bignick

The weather in Glasgow is, well, changeable to say the least. There are days it’s gray and rainy and then sunny in the afternoon. Layering—it certainly is the best option when dressing for days that are cold, hot, windy, and rainy. Oh, and don’t forget your backpack with umbrella!

I was in my last year of school at Strathclyde University. I was getting my Masters in Pharmacy which I hoped would help me find work as a hospital pharmacist back in Canada. Well, I could be a pharmacist anywhere, but I wanted to work in a hospital.

When I arrived in the city almost five years ago, I had the brilliant idea of buying a tough mountain-type bike for getting around. However cycling in downpours and then sitting in wet clothes leads you to do one of two things. Okay smartie, I mean after you dry off! First, you buy a rain suit, which means you need to take it off when you get to school and store it, or you just take the bus; which are plentiful. I ended up doing a combo of the two options, but my bright-blue rain suit never failed to get me comments from the other, more-macho students.

I only tried cycling in a deluge once, holding my umbrella—not one of my better ideas! The wind changed direction constantly—I had to fight to stay upright and keep the umbrella over my head. More often than not, the brolly blocked my view. I ended up missing school and going to the hospital that day ….

Late to start with—since my alarm didn’t go off—I threw on clothes, put on my rain suit and back-pack, hopped on my bike and started toward the University holding my umbrella. I was turning a corner, when the bumbershoot tipped in front of my eyes, so I didn’t see the plumber’s van in front of me, where it had been parked. I also didn’t see the man I ran over until I’d gone over him and crashed into the van.

Oh, for Pete’s sake!

Me and my bike fell over, and it was at that moment when I saw him on the ground, writhing in agony. He sat up slowly, and my mouth just fell open. He was beautiful—a god!

I may have forgotten to mention I’m gay.

“Are ye fuckin’ blind, man?” He was starting to rise now and not happy. “I think you’ve broken my dick, you stupid prick!”

I was tangled in my bicycle and umbrella and was trying to get up. I finally got my foot out of my twisted spokes. “I … I … sorry. Will … um … are you all right?”

He looked at me like I was speaking Swahili. “Oh god, just what I need. You’re not Scottish. I’ve been knocked down by a fucking Yankee smurf! What in God’s name are you wearing?”

“Now look here, sir. To start with I’m no Yankee, or a smurf. I’m Canadian. And well I didn’t knock you down on purpose! I’m very sorry and I’m wearing a rain suit.”

He was quiet as he moved things, checking for breakages. He winced when he got to his left hand. “I think it’s broken. Can you drive?”

“This?” I looked at the van. “Yes, I should be able to.”

I got to my feet and offered him my hand, he watched me with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, and he took it.

“Thank you,” he said, as he got to his feet.

And he’s tall! I helped him to the passenger side on the left in the UK and put my wreck of a bike in the back.

I climbed into the driver’s side and found I was about a mile away from the steering wheel. I turned to look at my wincing passenger and said, “Just how tall are you?”

He smirked. “Feel down on the right side, there is lever; it will move the seat forward.”

I did as I was told, got my seat into a good position and looked over again. “I need the key.”

“It’s in my left-hand trouser pocket, and I canna reach it with my right.” He held up his left one. “And this one is broken. You’ll have to fish it out.”

Seriously? You couldn’t mention this before I got in? “Oh, okay.” I undid my seatbelt and got out, walked around the front of the van, pulled open the door and looked up at him. He really was handsome, there were the eyes of course, his hair was a bit shaggy and black, his lips generous, and well I just liked big, strong men and this one was perfect. I wondered for a moment what he looked like shirtless … ahhh don’t go there right now, James.

I stepped up on the van’s running board. I smiled as I shoved my right hand into his front pocket and found I couldn’t quite get where I needed to be. I looked at him; he was grinning broadly. “Um, can you lift up a bit?”

He raised his butt slightly and said, “Can you get access now?”

I rooted around and I’m sure I touched some personal items, because his grin got even wider before I pulled out the key. He was really enjoying this!

The bulge which had always been there, was even larger now, and he looked down at it and then at me. “Well maybe you dinna break my dick after all!”

I shook my head, got down, shut the door and returned to the driver’s seat. As I pulled on my seat belt my passenger he started to chuckle. I looked at him with what I hoped was a glare! “What?”

“Och, you’re a funny wee man.” He leaned closer and said, “Normally, I don’t let other men feel the goods until I know their names. Mine is Faris. Faris McDonald, plumber extraordinaire. ”

Faris—it was nice. I liked how it bounced around my brain. “James Walters, student at Strathclyde University, future pharmacist.”

I started the van, checked the mirrors and put it in reverse, and then pulled out into traffic. “Um, Faris do you want to go the NHS Hospital?”

“Yes, please. You know where it is?” I knew he was looking at me, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off the road.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve lived here for almost five years.”

“Oh well, forgive me. I’m not knocked over by Canadian student smurfs every day.”

That pissed me off, so I just kept on driving. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.

After a few minutes, Faris cleared his throat. “Um .. James. I’m sorry. I was being a wee bit dickish. This was an accident and I appreciate your help.”

“Well, it was my fault. So the least I can do is to drive you to the hospital.”

We’d arrived and I pulled into Casualty and parked. I slid out, closed my door and then helped Faris down. I went in with him and we sat in the waiting area. Faris shrugged out of his leather jacket and I couldn’t help but watch. He was truly a tall, beautiful god! His form-fitting t-shirt showed me everything; gorgeous biceps, and sexy pecs and abs.

“You know James, you dinna have to wait.” He squeezed himself into one of the small plastic chairs.

“How will you drive home with a cast on?”

“Och, you dinna have to worry; I can call a friend to come and get me.”

I didn’t really want to sit with him, even though he was nice looking. “Okay, well, if you’re sure.”

Faris smiled. “I’m sure, James. Thank you.” He groped through his jacket and pulled out some white cards. He handed me three. “I just got my own Masters; I’ve being working toward this since I was 16 years old. If you or a friend needs a plumber, I’d appreciate the business.”

“Sure thing.” I accepted the cards and put them in my wallet and I left him there, smiling.

Several days later …

“Jaaaaammmmesssss.”

I was walking across the lawn to my next class following lunch when I heard my name being called. I stopped and looked around, but it was quite busy. Then I saw someone running—Hamid, my flat mate—he was doing his funny trot and waving at me. I stopped and waited for him to catch me up.

He was panting and bent over out of breath. “J … Ja … James. Hi.”

“Hi, Hamid. How are things?” I pulled on his arm, in an effort to get moving again. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”

“James, oh my, James … I … I was thinking that we should go out on Friday night. Are you up for that?”

“Depends where you want to go; I don’t want to sit in some straight bar all night.”

Hamid laughed. “No fair.”

I turned to him and glared as well as I could. “Just what does that mean?”

“Well, you refuse to sit in a straight bar, but it is okay for me to sit in a gay one!”

He did have a point I guess. We were nearing the lecture hall. “Here’s my suggestion. I’ll go to a gay bar, you go to a straight one, and we’ll meet up after for a curry!”

“James you are joking right?” He followed me up the stairs “Right?”

Friday night…

We did go to both bars actually. Nothing was happening in the straight bar, so we headed to Merchant Pride. It’s a large gay pub, with friendly staff, and a happy mix of regulars. Hamid and I were happy to listen to the ‘oldies’ music and enjoy a quiet drink.

Hamid got up and stumbled to the toilets, and I sat looking into my beer when I heard a voice. “Is he your boyfriend, James?”

I glanced up, and blinked. “Faris?” Oh my god, he looks even better than last time. I came to my senses then and replied, “Hamid? No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

Faris smiled like the Cheshire cat’s understudy. “Good, then dance with me.”

I sat there like a stunned pigeon, mouth gaping open, and then closing. I took his hand once I noticed it. “Um, okay. Yes, I’d like that.”

Faris walked me to the small dance floor, pulled me close, and put his strong arms around me. Oh my, this feels so right. We danced to Wonderful Tonight. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Nice surprise to see you here, James. I was hoping I’d bump into you again.”

I shivered as his breath warmed my neck. “You were?”

“Aye.” He pulled me tighter. He felt so good.

“I wondered how your arm was doing.” I looked for a cast but didn’t see one.

“Well, turns out it wasn’t broken, just a bad bruise really.” Faris’ hand which had been on my lower back, dropped just a little bit lower.

“I’m glad. I still feel awful.”

Faris pulled away enough to look into my eyes. “Aye, and you should. What were you doing that day anyway?”

I knew I was blushing bright red. “I … um … I was going to school in the rain wearing a rain suit.”

The song ended and Faris walked me back to my table and Hamid, but before we got there he said, “Can I see you again, James? Can I call you?”

Oh my god! He wants to see me, oh my god! “Yes, please. I mean yes, Faris. I’d like that.”

Faris pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and I gave him my number. He then put a finger under my chin and said with a small but knowing smile, “I’ll call you soon, James.” Then he kissed me softly.

All this was in front of Hamid, who just sat there watching us—jaw on the table.

I watched Faris’ perfect butt walk away and I sat down. Hamid was staring at me; eyes wide. I pulled my inspection from Faris’ retreating form and looked at Hamid, “What?”

“That guy just kissed you. Do you know him?”

“Yes, I ran him over.”

Hamid’s eyes got wider. “You ran him over?”

“Well with my bike, not a car.”

“James, how did you manage to run him over with your bike?” Hamid swallowed the rest of his pint.

After I replenished our drinks, and I told Hamid the whole story.

“Oh my God, James. You did all that to him and tonight he is kissing you. He must have liked your hand in his pocket.”

I thought about the difference between the sexy bulge I’d seen before and after I’d had my hand in Faris’ pocket and said to Hamid, “Yeah. I think he did.”

Faris did call me. We started to see each other regularly. I started having very strong feelings for Faris, though I was afraid to say I love you. He felt something for me, though I think it was more lust than love. Hamid and I shared a flat and Hamid worked Friday nights, so Faris and I didn’t need to worry about being too quiet.

This Friday started like all the rest. Faris came in, kissed me passionately, pulled off my clothes, took off his own and he pushed me against my bedroom wall and then picked me up. I loved sex this way, in his strong arms. Tonight we were both hot, wanted it, sweating, moaning, and when we were both close I did it. It just came out, at the height of things just when he came, I moaned, “Oh, I love you, Faris.”

I felt him change—shut off. He kissed me, put me down and smiled. We had a shower, but it was just a shower, not the usual playfulness and fun we had. He didn’t want a cup of tea, nor could he spend the night, he said. He lay in bed with me for half an hour and then said he had to leave. I tried to talk to him, but he just said he had to go. He said goodbye, no ‘I’ll call you soon, baby’—just goodbye. When the door of the flat closed—I cried.

Friends told me to leave him alone—he’d come around. For a week there was nothing, no calls, or texts. I figured I’d lost him. It was the same for the second week. I just gave up then.

After my last class on the 3^rd Friday of No Faris, I saw him standing under a tree near the bottom of the stairs. God, he looked wonderful. What to do? Run to him, tell him I’m sorry and to please forgive me.

No, James you will not throw yourself at him.

He saw me and walked toward me. We stopped as we got close. I looked up at him and he gazed back at me. We just stood there for what felt like hours, but was about ten seconds.

“James. We need to talk.” He had his hands shoved in his pockets.

I nodded. “Where?”

“Your place?”

“Okay.”

He drove us back to my flat. I made tea and we sat at the kitchen table. We’d neither touched nor kissed.

After sipping his tea, he put the mug back on the table. “James. James what I need to say isn’t easy. What you said to me, the last time we fu … were intimate—I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

I sat there stiff, holding onto myself. You will not cry, James Walters, you will not!

His eyes were on me, but I couldn’t meet them. “James, I canna fall for you like that, you’re leaving for home soon. I’m sorry.”

“Fine. That’s understandable, Faris. Let’s just forget it, okay?” I picked up the full cups and dumped them in the sink. “Okay, so great. It was fun and all. It was nice to see you. You can go now. Thanks.”

I tugged him up and pushed him toward the door. He protested, but I told him to just go.

A month later I graduated and left Glasgow without seeing Faris again.

Two years later…

I was now an assistant pharmacist in a downtown hospital. I enjoyed working with the patients and doctors. I’d been dating a few people here and there but no one special. Work was my current focus.

Saturday a very busy day, and of course, today Angela, our cashier, had called in sick. I was alone in the small but busy store. I’d finished two prescriptions and took them to the front and rang each of them up. The customer’s paid and I asked for the next in line.

“Hello, James.”

I stopped. Everything stopped. That voice, I knew it. I looked up and there he was. Tall, dark and completely gorgeous—I’m sure my mouth was open. Well I knew it was open because he, Faris, pushed it closed.

My throat was a desert and I choked out, “Wha … what? How?”

“I’ve been looking for a while now. I finally found you when they published the names of staff for this place online.”

“How did you get here?”

“I applied, of course; I live here. Started a business here.” He smiled at me, his blue eyes glowed. “Can I see you? Can we talk?”

I looked at my watch. “Um, my relief will be here soon. I can take a break then.”

Faris waited outside for me. I bought two coffees and we went to a little parkette near the hospital. After we shared my sandwich and sipped our coffee I asked the first question.

“Why are you here, Faris? I thought we’d finished back in Glasgow.”

“Aye, and I was angry for some months after you’d come back home. Finally a friend dragged me out and told what an ass I was being. He said if you are so in love with James then bloody go and find him.” Faris looked at me and smiled. “I thought about what he’d said, and I stopped fighting it. I realized he was right, I was in love with you. Then it dawned on me that I only knew the city where you lived and what you did for a living. So I knew I had to come here, so I applied under skilled labour visa program and they approved my application. I’ve been looking for you for the past year, James.”

I just stared at him. I couldn’t believe it. He reached over and took my hand and he pulled me to my feet and held me. “I love you, James. Never leave me again.”

Tears ran down my face as I shook my head ‘no’.

“Och, I nearly forgot. I’ve carried this with me since you left Glasgow. So I wouldn’t forget, but I want you to have it now.” He pulled something from his pocket and put it into mine.

I opened my hand and looked at it: a smurf keyring. I glanced at Faris, in confusion.

“James, he’s a funny wee man like the one I lost, and now found.” Faris was grinning.

“You still think I’m a Smurf?”

“You’re my Smurf, for always I hope.”

I threw my arms around him. “Always?”

He picked me up and kissed me. “Yes, baby. For ever and aye.”

C’est Fini