"Oh, wow," I moaned around my finger as that devastating glance liquefied my guts.

He was a hell of a lot better looking than I'd first realized. The wash of light from overhead cast his features in sharp contrast, defining planes and angles that were hidden a second before, lending him an elven air. Everything about him was bathed in honey.

My aching lungs sucked in a gulp of air, carrying the sent of honey with it. A hot shock of arousal shot down my back, kick starting my heart into a gallop on its way past. He returned his attention to where he was walking. I realized this must be my uncle's new partner, because I couldn't help noticing how the seat of his dark blue EMT uniform pants snuggled up against a set of cheeks that made me want to bite something. I was biting something, my finger, which I pulled back out of my mouth.

The ferocious hunger I thought I'd seen in his eyes stunned me. It was unlike any look anyone had ever aimed in my direction before, so I wasn't certain, but my body had no doubt. One glance and I was lightheaded, weak-kneed and hard enough to drill through the mahogany bar in front of me--and, they were sitting in my station.

Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit, ran like a litany in my head. How was I going to serve this guy without my tongue hanging out? I felt like Scooby Doo when he didn't know if he should run away from the monster or toward the Scooby Snacks. The feeling of being caught in a dream washed through me again, and I wondered, for a second, if I could be in bed asleep right now.

"Ok, ok ... get a grip, man," I lectured myself. "He's just a guy, like any other guy..." I snagged a couple extra order pads from under the counter and stuffed them into the center pocket of my waiter's apron in hopes of hiding the painful wood I was sporting--thanks to Mister Honeyman. "He's probably not even interested. You probably misread his expression ... He-ee-he's probably just in a bad mood or something. I mean, who wouldn't be, having to ride around with Uncle Gabe all day? You're probably just horny and, whatcha call it..." I picked up Mister O's drink and carried it around the bar to his table, "Projecting!"

"Projecting what, lad?" Mister O'Brian demanded.

"What? Oh, nothing, Mr. O. I was thinking out loud. So, you're good for the night, yeah?" I replied, placing his ticket on the table. He never wanted more than the one drink and he always left the money and tip on the table. He was a good customer.

"You young fellas get stranger every year," he declared in his soft Irish bur as he had at least once a month for as long as I could remember.

"Aye, sir, we do, but I'd wager you were a right freak to your elders back in the day," I joked, mimicking his accent.

"Well, now, ye've got me there, lad," he chortled, smacking his lips around the sweetened whiskey, "and yer a cheeky li'l blighter too." He laughed again and waved me away with a, "Gi' on wi' ya."

I turned and took visual aim on my destination. Uncle Gabe didn't usually sit in my station. The only reason he was in my station this time is because Jillian and I switched tables. I hoped he wouldn't mind too much when he found out. Truth is, I think I made him nervous, or uncomfortable somehow. I'd never been sure why until recently, when it occurred to me that he could be sensing in me what he sensed in his brother, my uncle Joel. Uncle Gabe wasn't good with new things, things that were different. He adjusted, but it took him a while. When Uncle Joel came out, Gabe didn't take it too well. It wasn't because his brother was gay; it was because someone he thought he knew was suddenly unknown.

My uncle's gay, but I'm not. I love girls; in fact, my twin's girlfriend who waits tables with me is about as hot as they come--not that I'm interested in getting with her. Why would I be? I have her, in a way, because she's Brendan's. No, what I've been thinking about for some time is the idea of trying men. It'd been on my mind more frequently these days. The desire had become even more compelling since Tammy broke up with me a few days before summer vacation, but I'd yet to see anyone who really interested me.

Until now. Again, the sensation of lucid dreaming overwhelmed me. What were the chances of my uncle bringing in what looked to be the perfect man just when I was open to a relationship with a one? It'd been ages since I felt that horrible-sweet sensation of butterflies, only this was more like millions of Indy car racer butterflies ricocheting off the walls of my stomach.

Mentally, I girded my loins, glanced down to be certain my hard-on wasn't showing, and walked over to stand in front of Honeyman. I thought I'd start off with a smile and just a little, "Come get me, baby," in the voice.

"Can I do ya?" I asked, my voice rose on "do," making the question hang in the air. That wasn't what I'd meant to ask, nor was it the tone I'd meant to use, but it was what came out, sure enough. My heart spluttered. I felt so awkward, like I was fifteen and trying to get my first date.

"What ... can I do for you?" I corrected, laughing in the embarrassed way you do, hoping no one notices it's to cover embarrassment, but people do, and you know they do, and everyone pretends they don't. I thought I might puke.

Honeyman acted as if I hadn't said anything since I came up, just studied the menu. Uncle Gabe, on the other hand, looked irritated. "What's with you, boy? Oh, don't tell me, I don't want to know! Beer and--" he turned to his partner and gestured for him to order.