A story of nudes

   I wanted to make myself visible. I had to do it in order not to feel imprisoned in the shadows, away from all that happened in the world. I needed to feel alive and wanted. So I started taking pictures using the few notions I knew of photography. At first, they were only pictures I had taken for assignments. They could be qualified as casual but also as artistic. I didn’t wanted them to be just pictures but also proof of what my life was like. So everywhere I went, I carried the camera. My father had bought me one and the moment I got it in my hands I started shooting. Every interesting plant, every nice sunset, every park or animal. I would take pictures of everyone of those and more.

 But at one moment I needed to do something else, something others were not doing and by others I meant the people around me. And the answer was obvious: nude pictures. No one was daring to do them. Was it maybe because I was twenty years old? Or was it that people are generally afraid of their own body? Who knows? But what I did know was that I needed a way out, a way to feel like myself, even if I had to do it all alone. I had tried dying my hair blue, changing my clothes, just being different from who I had been the past years, the last ones of school and first ones of college. I needed something to be only mine.

 So the first picture I took naked was of my legs. I wasn’t actually naked but it was the beginning of that time for me. I tried different tricks with lights and editing in various ways. I also took some shirtless pictures, never revealing my face. After all, everything that goes into the Internet may never be truly erased. People were going to see me and, even as much as I wanted to be out there, I wasn’t ready to show my face.

 With those first pictures, friends and other acquaintances praised my attempts for a more personal photography. They liked the way I edited my pictures and how I posed in them. After all, they were very personal and did tell tales about me to people. I was very happy to see that they were liked. Not universally but, after all, I was just learning. I didn’t wanted to be a photographer and did not pretended to be one. But I was learning so much about it that I immediately felt fascinated for an art that I had never truly reflected about.

 Back then; I liked it because it was something I could do alone. I love cinema but that needs a team to become a reality. I’ve never cared about the making of music so that wasn’t really an option and my hands are not made for the subtle and gentle work of a painter or a sculptor. No, it had to be photography. How the camera felt, the various shots to get the one I loved, the experiments I did based on what I was learning. It was all so attractive to me and, to some extent, it still is.

 I took the following step almost a year after opening a public Internet account to show my pictures. I had put on flowers, landscapes, sites, and my headless body. So the next step was showing more. I decided to show my face but not my penis. I didn’t want it to be the center of attention, not that it is anything special. But human nature is always governed by the animal feelings and it is obvious that people looking at a naked picture will always stare first at the genitals and then see the whole picture. We all do it and there’s nothing wrong with it but I wanted that distraction out so I took all pictures covering it or cropping the picture just right or even just turning around and showing my butt instead.

 Comments started pouring on the website. They were all very kind and many even racy, which I appreciated too. Friends and others were not as enthusiastic, rather focusing on the fact that I was naked and not so much on the pictures as such. They asked me if I wasn’t afraid of showing my face naked in public but I answered that there was nothing people could do with those pictures to me. They couldn’t threaten me because I had taken the first step. I’m not ashamed of my decision and I stood by it. And if someone sent one of them to my parents, as improbable as that would be, I would acknowledge my art and leave it at that.

 I have to clarify myself, though. The pictures were also an experiment for something else. They were not just about experimenting photography and having an artistic outlet that I had lacked for a long time. It was also, nudity to be more specific, a way to make people see me and judge me. I wanted to put myself out there and be bombarded with comments, good or bad. For a long time, a very long time, I had dealt with insecurity issues and I felt nudity would help me with those problems. And it did.

 With those pictures, and seeing so many more taken by a variety of men, I realized I wasn’t hideous or awful. I understood that the wide range of body types is what makes the human body beautiful. Of course, being gay, there is a beauty standard as there is one for straight men too. But homosexuality is more focused on how you look and any gay man who says they had never had an issue with that is lying. We judge each other harder. Maybe it’s because of the stereotypes that had been imposed for years but there is a certain idea of how a homosexual man has to look like and just be. And that was why I needed those pictures. I needed to prove myself and others that I could be who I am and people would like that.

 Yes, I did to receive approval. And that was the rotten seed that I never really paid attention to. It slowly grew for all those years, more than six to be exact, in silence. Meanwhile, I was successful with my experiment. People liked the way I got naked. At one point, I decided to post one picture fully naked and it was clearly one of the more successful ones in the account. After that, I just kept experimenting: shadows, lights, colors, places… It was all about the body. I still uploaded some other types of pictures that I liked but people seemed to be not very interested in them. Back then, I started to notice mostly men were adding me as their friend and the number grew a lot during the years. I have no idea how many contacts I had in there but I know they were thousands. Yes, thousands.

 Then, people got bold and started to ask for types of pictures, even more revealing ones. I said no to all of that. I was going to make a porno picture just because people wanted it. It wasn’t what I was looking for, to arouse anyone. My goal of helping myself with the pictures was, I believed, successful. Oddly enough, it was a time I had no one to share my new securities with. That was when I realized there was something wrong. Why were they thousands of man complimenting me online but in real life not even one dared to say anything to me? I tried giving the first step and that was always a failure. I cannot remember how many failed dates I’ve had. All of the crumbling fast after just a few words have been exchanged.

 Then came the people that denounced my pictures on the site where I had them. Each time I uploaded a picture, I left it without any safety advice on in order for more people to see it. After all, it was a picture of the human body, not from a corpse, or sexual or a violent act. But no. People started pouring saying my pictures were not adequate for the website. A website that had thousands of users pouring in only to check out naked men and women. If there’s something that I hate is hypocrisy and that was just the best example of it I had ever seen.

 I finished college and the rotten seed then activated, still silently. My old worries came back. Every picture I took was mediocre next to the other older ones but I decided to ignore that and do something else with my life. I traveled, I did other stuff and I even did some new things with my pictures and people liked them but less than before. And the opponents were still there, trying to push me off the edge.

 When I came back home one day, I realized they had succeeded. My account had been erased. The details are not important but I then suffered a very great depression. The rotten seed had finally won, all because I had made the wrong decision years ago. I kept failing in life, the future looked pitch black and now, what had been my only creative outlet for years, had been erased permanently. I was angry and outraged but also sad and vulnerable. A failed attempt to have a relationship pushed me to an abyss, from which I barely came out.

 Eventually I found out photography had lost most of its appeal to me. I still like to look at them and appreciate them but I haven’t held my camera in some time. Selfies, sure. Artistic photos, not really. I also found myself another outlet, one you are witnessing right now. And, to be honest, I hope I never have to leave this one, as it keeps me going, as photography never did. It was a stage in my life but that is the past. The present is this and the future… Well, let’s hope it’s there.

Dioses de Islandia

   Johanna y Odín se casaron a finales de los años setenta, después de muchos años de ser de los pocos jóvenes islandeses hippies. Desde el día que se unieron en matrimonio, no se despegaron el uno del otro. Tuvieron tres hijos que criaron en su granja en el este del país y con ella los alimentaron y pudieron mandarlos a la universidad. Cuando fueron algo mayores, dejaron la isla e hicieron vidas propias lejos del pequeño país. Pero Johanna y Odín nunca quisieron dejar lo que tenían allí: la granja, los animales, ese clima que les encantaba y las impresionantes vistas que habían ayudado a que ellos se enamoraran el uno del otro.

 Ya se acercaban a los setenta años pero seguían tan vivaces como siempre lo habían sido. En las mañanas Odín sacaba las ovejas de su corral y Johanna empezaba a hacer la masa del pan que vendía en la tienda del pueblo más cercano. También vendían la leche de las ovejas, su lana por supuesto y a veces hacían queso pero era un trabajo tan dispendioso que no era algo muy frecuente. Vivían lejos del poblado más cercano, ubicado a dos valles de distancia. Eran unas dos horas de viaje y por eso estaban algo desconectados del mundo, al menos físicamente. Por otra parte, tenían teléfono y televisión e incluso contemplaron la instalación de internet, ya que la línea de fibra óptica pasaba cerca pero nunca se decidieron.

 Fue cuando cumplieron los sesenta que se dieron cuenta que el mundo había empezado a cambiar más allá de lo que ya habían visto en los años anteriores. Se hablaba de una guerra lejos, en los continentes con los que le país más hacía intercambio. Al comienzo, no le hicieron mucho caso a las noticias y la televisión estatal casi no informaba sobre el tema. Después, un día que Odín tuvo que ir al pueblo a vender sus productos, se enteró de que había escasez de gasolina y de otras muchas cosas que venían de fuera del país. La gente en la capital, según decían, estaba muy preocupada por esto ya que muchos dependían de la venta de ropa extranjera o de servicios que solo venían de fuera.

 Y sin embargo, Johanna y Odín siguieron viviendo como siempre. Entonces sucedió algo que siempre temieron de jóvenes pero que jamás pensaron que pasaría de nuevo. Recordaban cuando niños que sus padres y en la escuela les habían contado de las bombas lanzadas sobre Japón para terminar la segunda guerra mundial. Aunque por mucho tiempo la gente temió que pasara de nuevo, con el tiempo pensaron que no pasaría ya que las cosas habían cambiado, aparentemente para bien.

 Pero un día que Johana estaba tendiendo la ropa vio un brillo, un magnifico brillo a la distancia. Venía del cielo o de muy lejos. Era como si el sol hubiera bajado a la tierra pero se le viera a través de un espacio muy grande. El fenómeno fue extraño y todos en la región lo vieron. La televisión informó que se trataba de una bomba de hidrogeno, la más grande jamás lanzada. Había sido lanzada en el continente y, según decían, había devastado una zona muy poblada. Y entonces, como viento que arrecia, empezó la guerra. El país atacado cambió de pronto, como un ser vivo que muta para sobrevivir. Y empezó a atacar por todos lados, apoderándose de tierras que siempre había pretendido pero jamás tomado realmente.

 Uno a uno, los países fueron cayendo. Muchos islandeses pensaban que el final del país se acercaba y que serían invadidos pronto. Era solo cuestión de cuando. Pero el tiempo pasó, los primeros tres años de una guerra sangrienta y debilitante, y nunca hubo invasión. Lo que sí hubo fue un cambio en el gobierno que fue lento pero para cuando la gente se dio cuenta, era demasiado tarde. El enemigo no había invadido a la fuerza sino que se había aliado con un partido sediento de poder y este le había entregado el país. Los puertos y las ciudades fueron ocupados lentamente por la potencia extranjera y la gente tuvo que aguantar.

 Johanna y Odín, sin embargo, siguieron un poco como siempre. Estaban preocupados por la situación, al fin y al cabo eran creyentes de la paz y la libertad, pero esto era algo contra lo que no podían hacer nada. Y, de todas maneras, la guerra parecía no afectarles en su rincón remoto del mundo. A excepción de los cortes de luz ocasionales y la escasez de gasolina, no parecía haber nada que cambiara radicalmente su estilo de vida.

 Las cosas cambiaron habiendo pasado cuatro años de la guerra, cuando tuvieron que viajar por carretera hasta un puerto del norte, donde un vecino les había contado que podían encontrar gasolina de contrabando. Era peligroso pero las fuerzas extranjeras permitían este mercado negro, a sabiendas que ellos podían ganar algo de dinero con ello. La pareja viajó unas cinco horas hasta el puerto y se abasteció de todo lo que necesitaban. Trataron de cargar bastante pescado, gasolina, hilos y medicamentos, para no tener que volver en un largo tiempo. Y como eran solo dos, no tenían que comprar mucho.

 Cuando lo tuvieron todo, emprendieron el camino de vuelta pero no llegaron muy lejos cuando encontraron algo que no se esperaban. A un lado de la desolada carretera, en un tramo especialmente oscuro y solitario, Johana vio algo. Parecía un atado de ropa tirada o una llanta vieja. Odín aminoró la velocidad y entonces se dieron cuenta que lo que fuera se había movido. Entonces detuvieron el pequeño vehículo y se bajaron a ver que era lo que pasaba. Con la ayuda de una linterna, encontraron el primer bulto. Era un hombre. Parecía haberse arrastrado hasta el borde de la carretera. Estaba ensangrentado. Parecía que lo habían golpeado. Como pudieron lo subieron al vehículo.

 Cuando Odín fue a arrancar, el pasajero pegó un chillido en el platón de atrás del camioncito. El hombre decía algo pero ellos no le entendían, parecía hablar otro idioma pero se dieron cuenta de que lloraba y señalaba hacia donde lo había encontrado. Se dieron cuenta que tal vez quería algo que llevaba con él así que se bajaron de nuevo y buscaron con la linterna. Pero no encontraron un objeto sino a un ser humano. Otro joven, de pronto un poco mayor, golpeado tan salvajemente como su compañero. Lo subieron al lado del otro y, mientras Odín manejaba, la pareja discutió que hacer.

 La policía ya no ayudaba a nadie y los extranjeros aún menos. Si esos hombres habían sido atacados, era poco posible que nadie los fuera a ayudar. En todo caso nada justificaba semejante paliza. Así que la mejor solución era llevarlos a la casa y ver que podían hacer por ellos allí. El viaje se demoró un poco más de la cuenta porque los baches hacían que los pasajeros se quejaran bastante. Johanna los miraba a cada rato y Odín trataba de ver cada bache frente a él pero era imposible. Cuando por fin llegaron, los bajaron con cuidado y los entraron al granero, donde guardaban la leche que iban a vender y la comida de las ovejas.

 Usaron la mayoría de los medicamentos que habían comprado en el puerto pero parecía que servían de algo. Al otro día, los hombres seguían dormidos pero algo mejor. Los bañaron y les hicieron una pequeña cama en el granero. Lo peor era esperar a ver si alguien iba a venir por ellos. Todavía no sabían si eran criminales o disidentes. Tuvieron que cuidar de ellos por meses hasta que se fueron curando y aprendieron a comunicarse. Para la pareja era como tener hijos de nuevo, les enseñaron el idioma y los hombres aprendieron rápidamente. En un año, se habían convertido en una familia.

 Según lo que pudieron contarles, había cosas que no recordaban. Los golpes habían sido tan fuertes, que había recuerdos que se habían borrado o parecía estar rotos. Recordaban que venían de un país lejano y habían huido de una dictadura patrocinada por los mismos extranjeros que ahora estaban un poco por todos lados en Islandia. Ellos eran disidentes y se apenaron al confesar que habían podido haber sido llamados terroristas. Pero habían tenido que huir. Al principio no eran nada, pero con el tiempo, se acercaron más. El viaje había sido complicado, lleno de dificultades y cuando llegaron al puerto en un barco pesquero, fueron cercados por extremistas quienes los golpearon y los dejaron a morir en la carretera.

 Y, aunque no lo habían dicho por miedo o por alguna otra razón, Johanna y Odín pudieron darse cuenta que entre los dos hombres había algo más que amistad. Lo confirmaron una mañana en la que fueron a despertarlos y estaban abrazados, sonriendo en sueños. Eso a la pareja no le importó. Eran personas que venían huyendo y sus cuerpos lo mostraban: tenían bolsas, estaban muy delgados y su piel era muy pálida, algo verdosa. Con el tiempo, les contaron pero la pareja de ancianos solo les contestaron que ya lo sabían.

 El tiempo pasó y la guerra, siguió. Muchos pensaron que todo terminaría como en la segunda guerra pero no fue así. En la granja, los chicos a los que llamaron Eric y Björn, se fueron encargando de las tareas más difíciles, que ya empezaban a ser una carga para la pareja. Uno acompañaba a Odín con las ovejas y el otro a Johanna haciendo el queso o haciendo el pan. Con el permiso de sus anfitriones, Eric y Björn construyeron otra casita, pequeña, cerca a la de ellos. Se convirtieron en los mejores amigos y compartieron todo, como viejas parejas de amigos. Cuando terminaron de hacer la casa, hicieron una cena especial y les agradecieron, con lágrimas en los ojos, a Johanna y Odín por toda su ayuda y su fuerza.

 El año siguiente fue uno triste. El mundo parecía ponerse más oscuro y, en una expedición al pueblo, Odín sufrió un ataque al corazón y murió. Los chicos y Johanna lo enterraron cerca de la casa. Pocos meses después, ella lo acompañó. La casa había quedado entonces sola y la pareja de extranjeros la mantuvo en pie lo que más pudieron hasta que decidieron que era tiempo de enfrentar su destino e ir a pelear por lo que siempre habían luchado: su libertad. Así honrarían la memoria de dos personas invaluables y siempre queridas, que les habían dado la mano sin pedir nada a cambio y quienes simbolizaban ese amor que ellos morirían por defender.

The App

   Do you ever feel your friends get you to do things that you don’t really want to do? Very passive aggressive, not so many words but they get their way and, some time later, you regret following their advice because you realize it was all a big trap? Well, that happened to me and I felt like an idiot after realizing it was all just a way to get me out of my comfort zone.

 You see, I wasn’t planning on going out with anyone. And when I said that I mean, for a long time. I just wasn’t interested in having to be with anyone, sexually or romantically. See? I wrote, “having to”, because to me it’s still an imposition. I’m still without couple but things shifted a bit when my friends convinced me to download this new app for my cellphone. I’m gay, so I thought I was an expert on apps to check out people on the phone. And yes, I do mean that as a stereotype that is actually the truth.

 Well, anyway, they convinced me to download it and we spent a whole afternoon lying around like idiots just putting yes or no to many pictures until the app decided to stop us from keep doing that. Normally, I would have left it at that. Every time I download an app, I normally erase it from my phone days later because I find it not only boring but also such a fucking lie. I mean, let’s talk here: does anyone not really mock people when looking at all those pictures with sunglasses on, upside down “selfies”, shirtless pictures and so many other classics of the internet.

 Anyway, I just went back home and have a good sleep, which I really need by the way, and the next morning I checked my phone, as I usually do. First my emails, then some social networks and finally I reentered the app realizing someone had written to me. I answered and we had a rather normal conversation, very uneventfully. I stood up to have breakfast and forgot all about it. That day, a Saturday, I spent some time home and then I went to the mall with my family to buy some new shoes and a shirt for the upcoming wedding of some cousin or something like that (I don’t really follow that part of my family).

 When I came back home I realized the guy had sent lots of messages and even pictures and many questions marks. I didn’t even acknowledge it properly and erased the whole conversation. I certainly didn’t need anyone like that near me and even less if I was consequent with my decision not to have any type of relationship with any man. And there were no exceptions or any kind of weaknesses from my part.

 The guy kept on sending messages and I just ignored him because that’s not the type of person that interests me, not even to chat with any day or to go out and have coffee. That maniac behavior is great if you want to be scared for life but I’m just not going for that. So I kept using the app because it was kind of an obsession to criticize people and I’m known among my friends precisely because of that. I’m the one that says what the others only think and I never care if I’m being to over the top or “mean”. I just like to be honest and if that means telling you you have a big nose or your shirt is too small or your pictures are one big fat lie, I’ll say it. It’s not like we know each other.

 So one day I was going through pictures and another guy hit me up. We bonded and chatted for hours and hours and he looked cute in a couple of pictures with no filters, really casual photos of him and his dog and him in a beach. He looked like a nice person so I decided to go for it and tell him to me meet for coffee. We did and I have to say I don’t regret it at all. He was such a nice person and we had a blast together, laughing at the same things, sharing interests and even learning a couple of new thing from one another. I have to concede it felt great to feel that again after so many years, to feel that connection with another person and just feel at ease with them.

 For the following two weeks, we saw each other fairly often. On the fifth date, we decided to go for cocktails and it was then when things got strange. In a moment, a couple of seconds in which I went out to call home to say I may be late, I could have swore I saw the guy that had sent me all those messages with question marks and so on. For a minute I was convinced it was him but I forgot about that quickly when I started kissing the other guy, whose name was John, and we walked around holding hands and just having a good time that night.

  Then, another Saturday, we decided to meet for beers at his apartment. As I’m no idiot, I knew what was going to happened so I shaved properly, I put on the nice clothes and tried to be my best self. No, I wasn’t thinking of anything serious with him. To be honest, it was all such a blast for me but I saw only as kind of a game that we were playing and that may end very soon. He wasn’t ready to have a new boyfriend, having broken up with one just two months ago, and I had never had a boyfriend but wasn’t going to begin like that. Just no.

 It’s stupid, isn’t it? But I picture my first boyfriend someone to be very special and me just knowing that is him. And I didn’t feel that with John. However we had a lot of fun and every time I remember those days, I smile because he was such a nice guy and had a great time in every sense possible.

 Anyhow, I took the bus and then it happened again. I was so sure one of the people on the bus was the creepy guy from the app. And this time it wasn’t something that happened fast and went. This time I was just two rows behind him and I couldn’t wait to get to my stop and physically run. I didn’t want to know if it was actually him. I just wanted to stop minding about the crazy guy and keep on with my date with this great guy. But I couldn’t, at least not for the whole ride to John’s home. The guy wouldn’t go out in any of the stops and I was staring to get nervous. But finally my stop came and, as I had pictured, I ran to John’s building and told him all about it.

 I know it’s very romantic or arousing to talk about a creep you think you saw in a bus, but I just had to tell someone in order not to feel crazy. He was very nice, gave me a beer and told me many guys can’t just get a hint and get obsessed with others. I must have looked even more scared than before because he went on saying most of them just stopped, after finding someone else to annoy so he was sure that would happen in my case.

 Then, again, I forgot all about my problems, because we started kissing and, minutes after, we had gone to John’s room, without the beers. It had been a long time since I had had any sex with anyone and, I have to say, it was awesome. Maybe that was precisely because I had nothing to compare with, a foul thing we all do, but I just though it was perfect. He was so tender and loving or so I felt and even when things got a bit rougher, he seemed to care about me a lot.

 I ended up staying the night. I called my mom past midnight to tell her that and me and John didn’t go out of bed until eight in the morning or around that. He had fallen asleep hugging me and that has been the only time I seriously thought two things: first, that he might be that person I would decide to have a serious relationship with. Second, that I was able to do things I didn’t know I could. For me, a hug is more personal than anything else. And John did all night, awake or asleep. And he also kissed me a lot and touched me and as a person with a poor self-image, that was huge for me.

 When putting on my clothes, I thought I really could like being in a relationship and could use to nights like that. We had some breakfast and bid farewell with a final kiss. In that moment, I didn’t know it was going to be the last time we saw each other. Isn’t that sad? It would be so nice if we knew when that’s happening but I guess that, as humans that we are, we wouldn’t be able to handle it.

 I walked slowly to the bus stop, thinking of the night. I was so distracted I didn’t see the man running at me. I only reacted to late, when he tackled me and put something in front of my face. He must have drenched it in some chemical because I felt dizzy fast and I passed out. To be honest, I think it’s great that I don’t remember anything that happened after that. When I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital. They had called my parents and I was too groggy to say or do anything.

 Days later, the doctors and I talked, in the presence of a policeman. I told him what little I remembered and they told me what they could conclude had happened: them man, which I recalled been the creepy guy from the app, had taking me somewhere and had raped me. They explained he could have told people I was drunk, for them no to get suspicious. I was left in a park and a homeless man had found me and called the police and an ambulance.

 They told me it was probable I would never remember anything and I thanked the drugs for that. I went back to my life but slowly and cut off every link that was too weak to keep holding. I erased all social network profiles, erased all apps from my phone and only played games in my computer. My friends visited me at home and asked about John but I didn’t know nor care. He had paid for something he hadn’t done but I wasn’t ready. And now, I might never be.

Work on a Saturday

   As fast as I could, I grabbed a pair of socks and put them on fast. The guy kept ringing and ringing, as if it was possible I hadn’t heard the doorbell the last one hundred times or that I had just fallen asleep after speaking with the doorman about letting him in. Some people were just very rude and I had no idea this guy could be this rude. Finally, I went to the door and opened.

 He barely looked at me as he entered my place, sat on the sofa in front of the TV and, for no apparent reason, grabbed the remote and turned it on. Confused for a few seconds, I decided to stand in front of him and ask what he was doing here. It was then that I noticed he had brought a backpack with him, which he had dropped on the floor.

 The man, whose name was Alex, told me our boss had asked him to fix the work we had done back at the office. As the work had been done by the both of us, and only I had some of the information, he decided it was a better idea to come all the way to my home and finish the work together. In any case, he didn’t seem that interested to have any work done as he kept changing channels and moved on the sofa to find the best spot possible. As the natural nice person that I am, I decided to offer him what little I had in the kitchen (orange juice and wafers).

 But I put the plate on my dining table, a small round surface from which he could watch TV but also pay attention to whatever it was that I had to do. After great insistence and with food as my ally, Alex finally got up from the sofa only to sit down heavily on one of the dining table’s chairs. He grabbed his backpack, took out his laptop from there and asked me the password of my Wi-Fi network.

 To be honest I was going to tell him we could do it all from my computer, as I thought the internet might prove to be another distraction but then he told me he needed to send me the email with all the details about the information we had to change and some other things that we had to add. Finally I gave up and gave him the password. To my surprise, he was fast to send me the email and in fifteen minutes we were already in full work mode.

 The work we had to do was long and it would take time to get all the information necessary to finish it thoroughly. As we advanced, I realized I seemed more distracted than he was at the start of the session. I mean, I was entering all the wrong numbers; even my grammar seemed to be getting worse by the minute. And the truth is that I was distracted. After all, it was Saturday evening and I had planned to stay at home, order takeout and watch at least three movies on a row. Working with that guy wasn’t on my mind.

  Alex and I had never really bonded at the office. To be honest, we had only spoken to each other about work related subjects and for an hour straight, at most. Now he was in my house, eating all my wafers, not speaking to me and it had been more than an hour from his arrival. If he was going to stay any more time, I needed to be able to be myself in my house. After all, he had not called prior to his arrival or warned me in any possible way. What if I had been out with my friends or something?

 Well that wasn’t really possible as all of them were busy with their own stuff but, hey, it was a possibility, however remote it may seem. So I decided to try and chat with him but that seemed pointless. I asked him if he lived far but he only said he had taken the bus. No idea what that was supposed to mean. Then I asked him about people in the office and he answered me by asking a nine-digit number that I had in my laptop. No, he seemed inclined to get the job done fast.

 I hadn’t thought of it but Alex might have had plans or something and now he was stuck in my place working. So it was logical that he would prefer the job done than answering my silly questions every few seconds. So I decided to shut up and just offer him some more juice. No more wafers. Now that I realized, it was almost eight o’clock and my belly had begun to complain. What if I ordered a pizza, as I had planned? True, I hadn’t planned on sharing it with anyone but at least that way I could have part of the night I had envisioned earlier.

-      -  Hey, would you like some pizza?

 Those were like magic words as he turned, raised his arms to stretch his body and smiled. It was the first time, in almost two years of watching him in the office, that I thought he was rather good-looking. I mean, some of my friends at work had told me he was “hot” or had “a nice piece of ass or even that he looked like, at least, three celebrities. But I had not realized about any of that until that night in my place.

-       - Sure. I’m starving. What would you like on it?

 I’m sure I looked like an idiot right then because it took me a long time to understand what he had just said. Seconds felt like hours and when I spoke, it didn’t make any sense at all. I tried again, and this time I had perfectly said:

-       - What about veggies and meat lovers? That’s my regular…

-       - Awesome. Love it. Nice choice.

He only said that but I blushed as if he had just told me something much more intimate. I shook off the feeling as I grabbed the phone and made the order to the pizza place I usually called on weekends. Not that I ever dated but it had been quite a long time since that and when I got out with friends it was frequently on Fridays. For some reason, I didn’t like to go out on a Saturday, unless the day called for it, so only for very good reasons.

 I sat down in front of my laptop and started entering some more data, numbers, statistics and so on. I didn’t even try to talk for the next half an hour or so. I only stared at my screen and answered Alex’s questions as fast as I could, without even looking at him. I felt him staring from time to time but I suddenly felt very self-conscious and I really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

That thought was soon interrupted, when the delivery guy made his appearance. Apparently there had been some kind of malfunction in a machine at the pizza place, so they were handing out these bread sticks made out of pizza dough before they went bad. I paid for my pizza, took the food and thanked the nice man. As I turned, I realized Alex had taken my computed and his and put them, with everything else that had been on the table, on the kitchen counter.

  I put down the two boxes on the table and he eagerly began to talk, as he opened both boxes and grabbed a napkin. Suddenly, for whatever reason, I smiled and decided to go along. After all, we had been working for hours and we needed some time to relax. I asked him about what he had planned to do today before knowing we had to work. Alex, who appeared to enjoy pizza very much, told me he might have gone out with some friends and drink beer or maybe just watch a movie at home.

 I told him that had been my plan: pizza and movies. Then he smiled and said something I thought I had heard wrong:

-       - Cool. We could do that after we’re done.

I didn’t answer right away but apparently he was too busy dipping the “pizza sticks” on a special sauce so no problem there. Again, he smiled and looked so much more noticeable to me than ever before.

-       - Why hadn’t we ever really talked?

To my surprise, it was him that had made the question, even if I had been thinking about it for that few minutes. Weirdly enough, I didn’t have the answer or at least not one that made any sense at all. I had no idea why I had never tried to bond with him, even if I had in fact done it with virtually anyone else on our office. It wasn’t like I was friends with everyone but I had tried to be nice to everyone and let them know they could count on me for all work-related stuff. So why did I never approached him?

-       - Do you hate or something?

-      - No. – I said with confidence. – It’s not that.

-       - Then what?

 He has stopped eating and was staring at me, almost without blinking. I didn’t have the answer to his question but, deep down, I knew why I hadn’t spoke to him at all. Maybe it was just because I liked him and I had shut down that possibility from day one. So I told him that out loud and asked him if he wanted more orange juice. He nodded so I went to the kitchen for more.

 We finished work two hours later and, at last moment, I asked him if we would stay for a movie. He said yes.