Free Bankers' Hours by Wade Kelly

could go on Monday and redeposit it on the off chance you’d be there.”
    How did I miss all this? Sure, I knew he came in at least twice a week, and some of his transactions had seemed redundant, but I wasn’t a business owner. I wasn’t going to tell him how to run things. Every time he came in had given me another chance to look into his blue eyes and enjoy his smile, even if I knew there wasn’t a chance to go beyond friendship. No, wait….
    “I thought you were straight,” I said. How could I have been so wrong?
    “I don’t see how, unless I wasn’t as obvious as I thought. I even winked at you. How many straight guys wink that often?”
    He had me there. “I was confused about that, but then you showed me a picture of your daughter. I thought, ‘Damn! He’s straight.’ How was I supposed to know you’re gay and you have a daughter?”
    He sighed, and his shoulders sagged as if I’d deflated him completely. “I am so sorry, Grant. Had I known you’d misunderstand my intentions, I’d have spelled them out. I swear, I thought you knew I liked you.”
    However we’d gotten to this point, it didn’t really matter after he said he liked me. They were words I rarely heard but longed for. Someone liked me and wanted to date me, and that someone was gorgeous and nice. There had to be a catch. Guys this awesome didn’t happen my way or simply show up at my teller window. There were always horrific complications that destroyed the relationship before it even progressed to kissing. Just once, I hoped I’d met a guy who would actually take a chance and kiss me.
    I apologized this time, quiet and sincere. “I’m sorry too, Tristan. I guess I couldn’t see your gestures because guys like you have never been interested in me before.”
    “I can’t imagine why. You’re so… pretty, but in a manly sort of way.” He grinned, but I felt emasculated.
    “Thanks, I think I’ll be putting my tutu on for the next date. And maybe some eyeliner and lipstick.” Perhaps my sarcasm wasn’t necessary, but it was a knee-jerk reaction. One other guy I’d gone out with had made a similar comment about me being “too pretty.” I wasn’t fucking pretty. Nice looking? Sure. Cute? Maybe. But I was damned if I was going to be called pretty. I’d seen pretty guys, the ones who could be models or actors. I’d met a “pretty” guy once in Columbia near the bank where I used to work. He was absolutely beautiful… and straight. I knew I was not one of those guys. Backhanded compliments made me angry. Don’t pay me lip service; just tell me the truth.
    Tristan was quiet for a long time. He was studying me, or trying to figure out what to say. Maybe his tactics worked on other guys, but I wasn’t going to be so duped. He’d tricked me, and I wasn’t going to fall into his trap. Dinner? Why would he want to take me to dinner? Nothing good could come of it.
    He finally turned back to the steering wheel and put it in drive, pulling out onto the road in silence. We turned down a few more streets and before long ended up in front of my house. He parked. “Good night, Grant,” he said, not even bothering to look at me.
    I hesitated to open the door. What was happening? We had argued over this being a date or not, him calling me pretty, and now… what? It was over? I was to get out and go into my house without another word? I glanced at him and then at the door. “Um, bye,” I said feebly. I shut the door and walked to my front landing in a daze. This was not how I pictured a date would end, even if I hadn’t realized we were on one. Ten minutes ago I’d said I hadn’t wanted it to end, and now I was going inside with this creeping notion I’d killed my best chance for an actual date. A torrent of emotion swelled. I’d been so stupid.
    I fumbled for my keys and dropped them. “Damn it.” I bent to pick them up.
    “Grant.”
    Tristan’s voice behind me caused me to bobble my keys and drop them again. I turned