Belong to You – A Holiday Story

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It was the Christmas music that did it. When the music hit, he was a goner.  

Devon had a love hate relationship with the holidays. He loved them when he was with someone but hated them when he was single. The holidays were not made for single people. All the advertisements on television featured couples deeply in love and thrilled with the person sitting across from them and the gift they had just opened. When they looked up with love in their eyes, Devon always wondered if it was because they loved the other person or the shiny jewelry that they had been given.

He knew all about love. He taught literature studies with a particular focus on romance novels and romantic literature. He loved books and literature, the older the better. Devon loved the pattern that romance books followed, the path of the protagonist as they triumphed over the antagonist and he got the girl in the end. Devon knew that the stories were different, that each book was not a carbon copy of the last one, but that was the reason that he loved romance. They always followed the same pattern regardless of the story. The man and woman met, usually with some difficulty, but they would share a kiss by chapter five, would sleep together by chapter ten, and then fall more in love with each other as they faced whatever battle they had in front of them.

Devon appreciated the irony. The world was like that sometimes. He also wished that gay relationships followed the plot of a romance novel or a holiday commercial. What Devon had learned was that gay relationships ran on their own plot lines, no matter how much he wished they wouldn’t.

What Devon had learned about gay men was that if you didn’t have the right house, the right car, the right job or the right body, they didn’t want you regardless of what they said on their dating profiles. Men in the bars were the same. There was always that one lonely gay fucker dancing away when the bar closed, still hoping to go home with the perfect man. Devon didn’t want to be that sad fucker, so he had stopped going to bars.

Devon had never claimed that he was perfect, he was just himself. He was tired of being judged imperfect by men that had brains the size of a thumbnail or the emotional depth of a thimble. Yeah, they might have perfect bodies, but it didn’t do them any good if all they thought with was their dick.

He had tried dating another professor from the university, but Gregory was all flash and fierceness. Gregory didn’t follow a pattern; he was his own man and made sure that the world knew it. Gregory lived without fear, and it was what had attracted Devon in the first place. At first, they got along well because they were so opposite from each other. Gregory had made Devon realize how much of life he had been missing.

They had gone on several dates and Gregory had even talked Devon into a weekend getaway to a quaint bed and breakfast run by a gay couple. They had a fantastic time, and Devon had felt like such a rebel going off at a moments notice, even though he brought papers to grade with him.

“You are so beautiful,” Gregory said. “You’re my little book nerd.” He let out a snort. “My little nerd.” He had kissed Devon then and Devon had assumed that Gregory had meant nerd as a compliment.

Soon, Gregory’s rash decisions began to grate on Devon’s nerves and the fact that Devon remained stuck in his habits. Gregory broke from the pattern of how things were supposed to go too often and he began to make fun of Devon’s habits and idiosyncrasies, his need to keep things just so. The more Devon tried to keep their relationship following the patterns that had worked time and time again in romantic literature, the more that Gregory rebelled.

Devon wasn’t a person that made snap second decisions. It wasn’t the way he did things. Gregory had been lovely and vivacious, but he was too impulsive. It all cumulated one night when Gregory had wanted to run off to Vegas and get married. Devon had frozen like a rabbit in the glow of a headlight.

“What?” Devon could barely get the word out. “I mean, no, we can’t just take off like that.”

“Wait, I asked you to marry me and now you’re saying no?”

“You didn’t ask me to marry you.” Devon said. “You didn’t propose. Every good romance story has a proposal of some kind.” He realized his mistake the moment that Gregory’s face turned sour.

“Fuck, Devon! Life isn’t like a romance novel! Life doesn’t follow a fucking pattern.”

“But it could! Why do you think romance novels are the most successful genre in fiction! I mean the first romance novel was in 1008AD!” He was prepared for the angry set of Gregory’s face, but he hadn’t seen the cold hate when Gregory looked at him until now.

“See, this is your whole problem,” Gregory had yelled at Devon as Gregory had packed his bag with all of his belongings. “You’re too afraid to take a chance, to do something spontaneous. You’re just a big stick in the mud sometimes. And I’m not one of your fucking students! No one cares about your little slutty stories!”

Devon had been stunned by this. After Gregory had left, he had gone around his apartment and spent time touching the spines of the books he loved. He liked to say hello to them every so often and remember the times that he had read and re-read the books he loved. Devon had tried to read every romance novel he could get his hands on. It didn’t matter if it was a literary romance novel written by Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte or a modern one by Nora Roberts and Emily Henry. All of them brought him some kind of comfort.

He remembered where he was when he finished every single book for the first time. Devon was like that with any book, but especially those that held some of his emotions like hope, joy, anger and the purest emotion of love. It’s why he had been driven to study romantic literature. Over time, the authors and stories had changed, leaving room for people like him. Devon remembered the first time he had read a romance novel with a gay character, and it had been a kind of revelation. He hadn’t known that he could feel such joy at having represented on the page of a romance novel after all this time. See, he had thought. We deserve romantic endings, too. Most of the books followed their own kind of pattern, too and the gay character was usually secondary to the protagonist in some way, but it didn’t matter. Gay people like him finally existed on the page. He had expanded his course on romantic literature to include books by and about GLBTQ+ people.

Devon had his favourites that he went back to repeatedly.  Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel, the Three Sisters Island trilogy by Nora Roberts and though some wouldn’t think it a romance novel, Frankenstein, or A Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelly. There was just something so achingly romantic between the good doctor Frankenstein and his monster. To Devon’s mind, it was the first true gay romance novel. Every time Devon read the novel, he could feel the real romance underneath the science, despite the monster being his own creation, and even because of it. Quite a few of his students disagreed with him, but he would not be convinced otherwise.

After a long day of classes, Devon was feeling tired. Not tired enough to totally engage with another person, but he wouldn’t mind getting off. He felt like using his body but giving his mind a break. He walked down fifth avenue and passed by a residential part of the city. He loved the homes there. They were all decorated for the holidays with bright lights and families of snow people on the lawns. One house had soft music playing in tune with the decorations that lit up their lawn.

Devon found himself stopping to look at this house and the decorations and he was surprised by the hope that filled him at seeing the light this family had created that held brightly against the oncoming dark. He remembered when his mother would gather all the kids up to help their father to hang the Christmas lights. It had always been one of the rituals that he looked forward to as a kid. It was this ritual that meant that it was beginning. His father always put the lights up on the second week of November. He said that decorations could go up on the twelfth of November and not a moment sooner. The holidays were happier than the rest of the year.

Looking at the lights, Devon knew that he would not be getting a booty call that night. He was so sick of men anyways, even if he was even more desperate for company now than he had been before.

“Fuck,” Devon said.

As he stood there, he watched other lights come on around him. His breath came out in a fine mist, becoming gold, red or green as the lights changed their colours. He walked on towards home reflecting that the dark is different in the summer and winter. Summer dark is full of promise, the air sweet with things left undone. Winter darkness brought with it a certain kind of melancholy, regardless of how many lights you turned on to ward against it.

“God, Damit.”

There was no hope for it now. He was feeling morose and nostalgic at the same time. There was no way that he would have anyone over now, even for a quick holiday blow job. Devon was too fucking emotional to have anyone over now. He’d start crying on their shoulder after he came, and that was something he could do without.

Coming upon his home, he let himself in by inserting the old key and opening the door with a creak. He lucked out and had been able to find a loft style apartment several years ago now and it wasn’t far from the university. It was the middle floor of an old and rambling house. His upstairs neighbour was an accountant and used the third-floor flat as his office, so he was only there during the day. The woman who lived below him was a lovely and she was an artist that did experimental installations. She was often away travelling and installing her pieces. Devon often felt like he was alone in the old house and he often was.

Anakin came running up to him, meowing loudly as he ran towards Devon. “What’s up, buttercup?” he asked, bending to pick the cat up and cuddle him close. Anakin had been a rescue. The cat had shown up on his doorstep almost a year ago. Devon had opened the door and found this grey and white cat looking up at him. The cat had raised a paw as if he were saying hello and had walked into Devon’s apartment as if he owned the place, which he soon did. Devon just paid the bills.

Devon fed Anakin and set about making himself something to eat even though he didn’t feel like eating and poured himself a glass of wine even though he didn’t feel like drinking anything. Devon hummed the Christmas carol he had heard while he heated up leftover lasagna from the night before. He surprised himself when the words of the carol came from his lips as if they had been written in his memory:

“Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen, when the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even…”

Anakin hopped up onto the counter. He meowed loudly and gave Devon some nudges and the purrs increased. “You like it when I sing, baby boy?” Anakin jumped up onto his shoulders and Devon hummed a few more bars until the microwave beeped. Anakin hopped down as he moved to get his food from the microwave and poured himself the last of a bottle of red wine. He set the food, wine and phone on the table and began to eat.

He scrolled on his phone while he ate. Devon had been seeing ads on his phone for a new app called Belong to You. You could create your own AI person that could be a companion and a friend. One of the catch phrases was “Have a friend in your pocket!” It was being marketed as an app to find your match on the go if you were too busy to date and to the elderly who were often alone and just wanted someone to talk to.

Devon had been tempted to sign up, but he thought that dating an AI was comparable to jerking off to porn online. That didn’t stop him from looking into the app and learning what he could about it. The ads featured quite a few people talking about their experiences. One ad stuck with Devon. In the ad, a woman with pink hair and wearing a purple blouse with black stars looked at the screen.

“This app brought me so much peace. My mother had never accepted me being a lesbian and I still miss her, you know? The woman I talk to on Belong to You isn’t my mother, but she might as well be. She’s done me so much good and has helped a lot with my healing.”

He put his phone back into his pocket, took another sip of wine and had more lasagna. He often read while he ate, but he didn’t feel much like reading now. He had graded papers all day and his mind was a little numb. Instead, he took his dinner and glass of wine to the living room. He could at least watch television and give his mind a break.

As he was taking another forkful of his dinner, another ad for Belong to You started playing on television. He turned up the volume. The ad showed a man not unlike himself. He was sitting alone on a dark leather couch and watching the television. Unlike Devon’s apartment, the man on the television had decorated for the holidays. There was a Christmas tree in the corner of his living room and a fire flickering merrily in the fireplace. The man on the screen picked up his phone and Devon watched as the man opened the Belong to You app. His voice spoke out as Devon watched the man scroll through the app.

“I find meeting other men difficult. I am so busy with my art, and I have to travel all over the place. I’m often alone during the holidays. The holidays are when you’re supposed to be with those that you love. I don’t have time to date, so Belong to You is perfect. They don’t just use AI. The men that I met on the app were real, or they felt that way. It was just nice not to feel alone.” The ad ended with the screen going black with a shower of sparkles.

Devon sighed. With everyone streaming everything from the internet nowadays, he knew that the algorithm of the internet made sure he saw the ads being targeted towards anyone LGBTQIA+ and he was okay with that; it was the way technology worked. He was not surprised to find that his phone and television were showing him ads for Belong to You. He often believed that there was always someone listening in. He let out a even deeper sigh and found an ad for Belong to You. He was brought the loading screen where he read more glowing testimonials and stories, each detailing how Belong to You had helped other people.

It wasn’t as if Devon hadn’t fantasised of being committed to Gregory and yes, maybe one day, getting married, but Devon had to work his way up to things. It was the way that he had done everything in life, and he wasn’t about to change his habits just to soften some man’s ego. Devon couldn’t believe that he was still bothered by what Gregory had said, even after all this time. He wanted to be spontaneous, not the coward that Gregory had thought he was. In a spot of anger, and also a healthy dose of feeling sorry for himself, he logged into the Belong to You app and entered his info for a week’s free trial before he could think about it.

He has been horrified at his rashness, but the damage was done. He uploaded a profile picture and started entering a bit of information about himself. Devon knew that there were all kinds of options that you could use Belong to You for, but he searched the menu for dating and found it. He clicked on the link and felt for a moment like he was like Alice in Wonderland going down some kind of cyber-electric rabbit hole.

Not only did he have to describe himself and upload pictures, which just felt stupid for a site that used AI, but he had to layout exactly what he wanted in a partner. He was momentarily surprised at the menu of questions. There was nothing about what he wanted his perfect boyfriend to look like, but instead what he most wanted in a serious partner, what some of his favourite memories of being with someone were. The questionnaire went so far as to talk about the happiest he had been when he has been in love previously.

Devon didn’t have any issue filling the questions out but kept wondering as the questions went on when they got to the part of what he wanted the AI person to look like, but they never showed. After hitting submit, he went to the sites frequently asked questions page and scrolled down until he found what he was looking for:

“Unlike most AI sites, we purposely do not give you a section to put in the physical attributes you’d like to see in a person. We want meeting someone to be random, just like it would be in real life. Keep in mind that the AI person you meet on Belong to You is not random pieces assembled into a whole using photos and videos that real people have provided. They have given their consent to use their images. You are meeting a real person, just in an electronic world.”

“Huh,” Devon said. He hadn’t expected that. It was hard to wrap his brain around the idea of anything on the internet being random. He wondered if that meant that they would just cobble together pieces of a person to make a whole. Devon knew that AI used whatever it could find online to fill its knowledge base and choose how it learned. There was soft chime, and he saw on the top of the screen that he had a new message. He took a breath before clicking the message button and let the breath out slowly. He could hear a Christmas carol playing outside the house from a passing car and recognized the opening notes of Last Christmas by WHAM! Letting out a snort at the irony, he clicked on the message button

When he did so, a window opened right away, and he was looking into the silver eyes of another man. He had dirty blond hair in a spiky cut and a beautiful jawline with stubble that made his face look as if he were sparkling when the light hit it. Devon assumed that he was looking at a video of the man that he would be meeting. It was odd that he didn’t even know the guy’s name. “Well, this video is nice. He’s pretty fucking hot even if he isn’t real.”

“My aren’t we full of ourselves!” The silver eyes brightened with mischief and Devon felt himself blushing as the man winked at him.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I um, I thought you were a video.”

“That’s kind of the point. Belong to You likes to catch guys off guard, like in real life.”

“That’s against the pattern.”

“What pattern? Is there a pattern to dating?”

“Sure,” Devon knew that he should stop talking, that he had to stop, but he was nervous and the words fell from his lips without stopping. “You know, the pattern of every romance story? Boy meets girl, there is a misunderstanding of some sort, then the spark of attraction begins. They kiss by chapter five, usually, and it escalates from there until they give into the passion between them, usually by chapter ten or eleven and then they have to solve the driving force behind the novel.”

“I thought the driving force of any romance novel was the driving force of the guy’s cock.”

Devon was surprised when he heard a bark of laughter and even more shocked when he realised that the sound came from him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“Well, you laughed at a joke I made, so that’s a plus in my books.”

The guy smiled and Devon kind of fell in love with him a little then and there. “Sorry, I’m new to this.” He could feel a blush starting on his cheeks.

“Stop apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong. I think the fact that you have a pattern that love should follow is super cute and I love a guy who reads.” He held up a hand and waved. “My name is Matt.”

“My name is Devon.” Shit, he could feel the blush rushing across his face.

“Nice to meet you, Devon. And can I just say that your blush is fucking cute?”

Devon knew that his face was entirely red at this point and he tried to calm himself down, but it wasn’t working. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Matt.”

“Do you ever stop blushing? Gods, you’re so cute.”

Devon looked away from the screen. “You have to say that.”

“No, I don’t, actually. I don’t know if you realize how AI works, but I’m not here to be at your beck and command you know. You’re not the first guy I’ve met on a date.”

“I thought you were made for me to talk to.”

“Yes and no. I’m not a genie in the bottle to do you bidding. It’s my pleasure to talk to you, Devon. The first guy I spoke to just wanted to jerk off with me and I’m into that, but you let me know if you want something more, okay?”

Shaking his head, Devon put up his hand. “I plan on keeping my clothes on, thanks. I was going to go to the bar and try and hookup with someone but just couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?” Matt leaned closer to the screen and Devon wondered if he was imagining the smell of bergamot and sandalwood.

“You’re going to think the reason is silly.”

“Try me.”

“Well, I was walking home after work, and I heard Christmas carols playing from someone’s house. I think it was Good King Wenceslas.  It made me think of the last time I had heard the carol and then I started thinking about when I was a kid and my mother used to put that Christmas carol on when we would decorate the tree.”

Devon shrugged. “I started thinking of my family and I just knew that I wouldn’t be able to get a hardon after thinking of my mother.” Devon looked away from the screen in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I’ve said too much.”

When Devon looked back at the screen, Matt looked shocked for a moment as if he had eaten something sour and then he burst out laughing. The sound was like a kind of music to Devon. He had never made Gregory laugh; Devon had only infuriated him. Unless Gregory was making fun of Devon and then he would laugh.

Devon tapped gently on the screen. “Um, I’m sorry? Matt? You’re not laughing because you’re making fun of me, are you?” He held his breath waiting for the answer. He had forgotten what it was like to be wanted by someone. Even if Matt was an AI, he was still a man. Devon was no longer sure of himself around men.

“Honey, are you kidding? That might just be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard it all. Did you want to go out tomorrow? I know this nice restaurant down the street from you.”

“Melanie’s Kitchen?” Devon said.

“Yes, have you been there before?” Matt asked. “I love that place.”

“I didn’t know that AI could actually eat.” Devon said in wonder. “How does that work?”

“Well, let me take you out to dinner and you’ll find out.”

“I’d love that.”

The next day, Devon had taken more care when dressing. He knew that he wouldn’t have time to change after work, so he had to look good throughout the day. It wasn’t that he dressed like a slob, but he was a fan of comfortable clothes like jeans and cardigan sweaters. Feeling a little daring, Devon picked out a nice pair of jeans, a purple dress shirt and a coat that he had picked up while he had been with Gregory. It was a brilliant blue and had swirls that were supposed to represent peacock feathers. Devon had found it on one of their shopping trips. Gregory had hated it. “If anything will say fag, it’s that fucking coat. You already draw enough attention to yourself. I can’t believe you got that thing.”

Feeling brave and trying to silence the voice of Gregory that was still in his head even though the relationship was long over, Devon pulled the coat off the hanger and put it on and looked at himself in the mirrored doors of his closet. He pushed his round glasses up his nose and looked at himself, something he was not a fan of doing too much. Devon had shaved and shined up his bald head. He had even put on cologne. He didn’t know if AI could smell, but Devon wanted to make sure he smelled good and looked good for himself, not just for Matt. He smiled and for once, his appearance didn’t put himself off. Part of him felt silly for taking his phone out on a date and the other part of him felt it was nice to have something to look forward to.

When he got on campus, he took in the sight of the grounds. The lamp posts were hung with wreaths and the signs around campus were draped in lights, as were several of the trees. The school always went all out for the holidays. Even now, he could see some of the grounds crew adding tartan ribbons and other ornaments to the bushes and the other shrubbery that filled the grounds.

He stopped for a moment and took it all in. The people walking along the pathways looked like they could belong in a holiday film and Devon swore he could hear music in the air. All of this normally gave him anxiety. He didn’t do well with the Christmas social calendar and the expectation from others that he would drop in and say hello. It would bring him no end of worry and planning which Gregory had teased him about. But when he stopped and looked at the lights, decorations and the ribbons, Devon was surprised to find himself feeling joyful.

Stopping at the local coffee house before his classes began, he spotted other teachers and professors. They smiled when they saw him, but they wore an open look of shock. He smiled back at them, gave waves to others. They smiled and waved back, but they were still looking at Devon with curiosity and wonder. A couple of times, Devon caught the other teachers and students looking at him with confusion. After this had happened a few times, he began looking down at himself, wondering if he had gotten some kind of stain on his clothes. He checked his reflection in the windows that he passed but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

He had to grade papers this morning and had two classes to teach in the afternoon. He had assigned the class a writing assignment. They had to write a romantic story inspired by their favourite romance novel. Devon had asked them to show how they had remained faithful to the story as well as how they had taken it in another direction. He was happily surprised to find that the fist story was based around Interview with the Vampire. Devon loved it when his students thought outside of the box. He grinned. He supposed that he was currently doing the same thing with Matt. The thought of Matt waiting for him on his phone brought him joy and he couldn’t help smiling again.

After reading and grading a few of the papers, Devon went to one of the restaurants close to campus for lunch. It was a pub that catered to both the public and the crowd from the university. Devon always brought a book with him, but he rarely had to read it; there was almost always someone to talk to. His therapist had told him that it would be good for him to talk to others aside from when he was teaching and he thought that the pub was a safe zone. Orlano’s offered the standard pub fare, but they made a wonderful smoked meat sandwich.

He had just placed his order and had turned to look for a table when he spotted his closest friend at the university. Francine was a woman of quick wit with a sharp tongue and a keen sense of fashion. Today, she was wearing a black and purple leather coat with a silver sweater that looked as if it were made of stars. She had paired this with a simple pair of dark blue jeans and a pair of high heeled boots in green leather.

“Are you dressed for the brothel or the runway?” he said and took a seat across from her at a scarred wooden table.

“Can’t it be both, honey?” She smiled at him and took a deep look into his eyes. Hers were a brilliant shade so deep that they were almost purple. Her eyes widened and she slapped his wrist. “Whoever you’re fucking, keep at it, you sexy minx.”

“I’m sorry?” Devon tried to look innocent as he picked up a menu and looked at what was for sale, even though he had already ordered. Everyone knew that he ordered the same thing every time that he came in here: smoked meat on rye bread with mustard and sauerkraut with onion rings and a pickle on the side. He was a man that liked a pattern, after all.

“You’re so happy!” She swatted him with her menu. “Whoever you’re doing, keep doing him. You are SO much happier than you were with shit-for-brains.”

“Gregory wasn’t a shit for brains.”

“Honey, he literally IS a shit for brains. I sent you the link to the porno that stupid fuckface is in. I mean, I know it was a cheap studio in Las Vegas kind of porno, but there should have been standards. When did the cleanliness go out of making art?”

“Porn isn’t art.” Devon said.

“Says the man who watches a lot of it, I’m sure.”

Devon scowled at her. “Bitch, please.”

She snapped the fingers of her right hand in his face. “Don’t you bitch, please me. Honey, why are you such a nerd about sex. You teach romances, for fuck’s sake. You’re such a prude. Why are you afraid of being intimate with someone?”

“It doesn’t fit the-”

“YES, honey. The pattern. Not everything is a romance novel. Maybe you could try reading some regular novels that just have romance in them.”

“See, that’s just it, I love the formula in them. Some authors play with the timeline a little, try something new, but it essentially the same thing in the end.”

“Well, then you have never truly been in love, or you have a shitty imagination.”

Devon was about to reply, but their food arrived. There were the first few seconds of whose food is whose, especially if you order an appetizer. Devon had to figure out the time. He had this odd fixation with it. There were always minutes ticking away in his head. He wondered if he should have been a lawyer; they billed everything by the minute.

He liked to study time and the different time zones of the world, was always careful to check and triple check the timeline, especially when he was reading. He didn’t like books that flickered around with the timeline. The Time Travellers Wife was a lovely romantic novel about going the ultimate distance for the love of your life, but that endless time hopping did his head in.

Waving a hand, Devon took a sip of sprite and looked at Francine over the edge of the glass. When he was done, he placed the glass down on the table and bit off the edge of an onion ring. “I loved Gregory,” he said again.

“Fine, you loved him, but did you ever stop trying to fit him into the boxes that your patterns fill? Not everything is like a romance novel.”

“Well, I was going to tell you why I was so happy, but now I don’t think I’m going to.” Devon said with a smile.

“Now you have to tell me, but I can guess what it is already.”

Devon waited a few moments and finally said “I’ve met someone.”

Francine let out a loud “HA!” and gave him a big hug. “I fucking knew it. I mean, you are fucking glowing, honey!”

He could feel the blush blooming on his cheeks as he pulled away from the hug. “It’s not like that. He’s just an AI.” He shrugged. “It’s better than nothing I guess.”

Slapping his arm, Francine took hold of her martini and took a sip before giving in an angry glare. “Honey, I don’t care if it’s almost Christmas, I don’t like hearing you downplay your joys and put yourself down. That’s twat face’s fault because he was always doing that. Don’t you fucking listen to him.”

“You didn’t know him as well as I did.”

“No, but I knew him well enough to know that he was a fart face. So, enough talk bout the giant douche. Tell me more about your new man.”

Devon could feel his cheeks reddening. “It’s just AI. It’s not real.”

“Devon, it’s real enough that you have dressed in something other than corduroys and a cardigan. That’s all you fucking wear. Now you’re this close to a gay model from GQ. Everyone has been talking about it all day. That and you’ve actually been interacting with other people when you’re not teaching! You hate doing that.”

“I know, it’s silly to get excited when it’s not even a real person, but he’s just so wonderful.”

Francine had been about to cut her panini sandwich in half and gave him a sharp look. “It’s a good thing that I’ve got my knife ready to go into my sandwich rather than your thick skull.”

“What did I say?”

“That AI isn’t real, that the man of mystery is not real.”

“But he’s not, he’s a computer program.”

“Yes, but look at you. I mean, you dressed up for him, Devon! That’s huge. I’m always the one trying to drag you out of your lonely flat, but you’d rather sit at home with your romance novels. I’m just thrilled that you’re actually dressed and you look fantabulous.”

Shaking his head, Devon waved his sandwich at her. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a bit of fun.”

“What about the emotions that you’re feeling?” She asked. “Those certainly seem real.”

“How do you know how I’m feeling?”

“Well, your nervous for one thing. You haven’t stopped fidgeting since you sat down and you only do that when you are nervous or hoping that something goes well. You will barely look me in the eyes which tells me you don’t want me to see how excited you are. You wore your coolest outfit, the one you usually wear when we go out to literary festivals. You want him to see you exactly as you are.” She took a sip of her martini and looked at Devon who stared at her with an open mouth. “How am I doing?”

He could only continue staring at her with open mouthed shock and nodded.

“I’m glad I have your attention. Listen to me. One summer a few years ago, after Claudia and I broke up, I had a fling with an AI. Her name was Beth and she was amazing. She really was her own person, you know? I knew that she wasn’t real, but the emotions that I felt when I talked to her were. She made me believe in the possibility of love again. You can’t discount that or let anyone take that away.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Beth?”

“Because I knew you would poo poo it and tell me that she wasn’t real.” She motioned to the waiter with her empty glass who nodded and came over to their table. “All I’m saying is to let yourself feel the feelings. You have to have some kind of imagination with these things, honey. You can’t always be told what’s going to happen. Life isn’t a book, okay?”

Devon nodded and he swore that he could hear Good King Wenceslas coming from somewhere outside the restaurant.

He went through his classes that afternoon somewhat distracted. It was something that Francine had said that kept distracting him. The emotions he was feeling were real, at least he felt the same way that he felt at the prospect of every date. He was nervous, anxious, filled with excitement and regret and wondering how he could get Matt to like him. In short, every emotion that he normally cycled through before he was about to meet someone new. Also, the nagging feeling like he was going to throw up or exclaim with joy at the same time.

Devon was still unsure about whether he wanted to go through with the whole thing right up until the moment he was standing outside of Melanie’s Kitchen. He took a few deep breaths and went inside. Mel saw him first thing, she was front of house tonight. He knew that meant that Petra was cooking. “It may be him cooking,” she had said when he asked about the restaurant’s name. “But it’s my kitchen. I don’t let him forget that.”

They had been married forever and took turns cooking. She was Lebanese and Petra at Greek and they cooked what they loved to eat. Thankfully, a lot of people loved what they cooked, too. The entire place was a sea of red, green and white lights and every available space was draped in garland and covered in candles. They always went all out for the holidays.

“Devon! He’s here! And so prompt and on time.” Melanie said. “You have such good taste. I was getting worried about you and was going to introduce you to my cousin if you didn’t have a date for Christmas.” She came around and embraced him, kissing him softly on the cheek.

They had kind of adopted him when they found out that he didn’t really have anyone in his life. He had come to Melanie’s Kitchen with Gregory a couple of times, but Melanie didn’t like him. “Thinks too much of himself,” was Melanie’s only comment.

Blushing, Devon returned the hug and breathed in the warm scent of her. “Thank you, but the internet decided for me.”

“Devon, don’t you know how these things work? The AI is determined a lot by the algorithm that you create when you’re online and surfing. You have such a good algorithm! I mean, he’s gorgeous and courteous.”

He should have known that Melanie and Petra would know all about AI and how the system created the perfect man. They had installed the capability for humans to date AI just before it went mainstream. They were one of the first restaurants to welcome human’s dating an AI creation. “Please,” Melanie had said. “There’s no reason to have any shame in it. Why not bring some of these people out of their basements and into the light. It’s the least we can do. You shouldn’t have to hide who you love.”

Devon knew what they had gone through in their own relationship. They had faced their own difficulties with their relationship. As was often the case, families got in the way. It was the same in romance novels. There was always something that was stopping the hero and heroine from getting together right at the outset of the novel, be it a mutual dislike, some sort of misunderstanding or a treacherous friend or family member. There was the not so occasional scandal in romance novels, too. It was a well used trope in the books he loved.

“Thank you, I think?” Devon said.

“No, thank you for being as decent as you have always been. You wouldn’t believe the kinds of people that some of these AI! My mother would roll over in her grave if she had one. No, I’m just glad that you finally took the plunge and all on your own. We were worried after Gregory.”

“You don’t think this is kind of…silly?” Devon asked, needing to make one last ditch attempt at walking away.

Melanie fixed with Devon with a stern glare. “Now, you listen here. This man is here to see you. He’s here for you. Have a glass of wine with him, just one glass. If it goes nowhere, then you’ll know, but if you don’t go through with it, you’ll never know.”

Once again, he heard the opening of Good King Wenceslas, but there was no singing. Just a lovely humming of piano notes that filled the air. He gave Melanie a kiss on the cheek and let her lead him to the table. Matt was there waiting for him, his opal eyes shining brighter than they had on the screen of his phone.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Devon said. Once again, he could feel the blush starting in his cheeks and spreading down his neck.

“You look really good. I love that jacket.” Matt said with a grin. “You should wear that colour more often.”

When Matt came forward and hugged him, Devon was surprised to find that he could actually feel Matts touch. When Matt moved away from the hug, he took one look at Devon’s face and let out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Devon said, his blush deepening.

“The look of shock on your face! It’s so damn cute. This is your first time on an AI date?”

“Well, yeah.” Devon looked away for a moment embarrassed.

“Hey,” Matt said, taking Devon’s hand. “It’s okay. I’m happy to know I was your first. I mean, we all remember our first time. I’m glad this will be something that we can remember together.”

Devon stared at Matt and wondered if it was possible to fall in love with someone on the first date. He didn’t know if he had ever truly loved Gregory. It wasn’t just that Gregory refused to do anything by the pattern. He could love Matt; he knew that with certainty.

They sat and Devon took a sip of the sparkling water to clear his parched throat. He was nervous, but not frantic. He has been frantic with Gregory. The more he had tried to hang on, the more Gregory tried to pull away. There was nothing frantic about Devon. “I’m sorry, I’m so new at this. It was a big enough leap for me to sign up to Belong to You in the first place.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. We wouldn’t have met otherwise.” Matt raised his glass of water. “Cheers to us.”

Holding up his own glass, Devon said “Cheers,” and clinked his own glass against Matt’s. It sounded like a clear bell went off in the air around them. He smiled a truly real smile, and Devon didn’t remember the last time he had felt his smile inside and out.

Melanie came back to the table with a filled tray. She put down a bottle of red wine, some bread and butter, a small dish of spiced olives and a plate of bruschetta. “Here you to. Enjoy this for now and I’ll bring your main course in a little bit.”

“We didn’t order any of this,” Devon said.

“And when has that stopped you from eating anything I put down in front of you? Someone has to feed you. You’re going to waste away. You can’t live on books alone.”

“I eat!” Devons told her. “I eat plenty.”

“You survive on a diet of books, and while there is plenty of fibre in books, there isn’t much else.” She took a moment to rustle Devon’s hair like a mother would. He had been coming here often enough that she was like a mother to him.

“I will make sure he eats.” Matt said.

“Thank you, Matt.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “Someone has to look after this one, he’ll get into trouble otherwise.”

Devon let out a snort which Matt and Melanie ignored. “My pleasure, Melanie.”

They both watched Melanie walk away to serve other guests and then they turned to look at each other. “She cares a lot about you,” Matt said.

“Yeah, I’m lucky. Her and Petra are like my home away from home.”

“They’re your family.”

“Yeah, I guess they are.”

Matt reached for the bottle of red wine and poured them both a glass. Devon watched Matt do this with something approaching wonder. “Your eyes are about to pop out of your head.” Matt said.

“Sorry, I thought you’d have your own food and drink and food. I was under the assumption that  AI couldn’t eat or drink human food.”

“Normally we can’t, but the places that have put in the technology allow us to eat and drink like we normally would do. You really haven’t kept up with how things work now, have you?”

Devon shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I always have too much work to do and too many books to read.

Matt let out a chuckle. “Well, the technology has progressed to the point where we can eat and drink and do…other things.

The blush bloomed along Devon’s cheeks, and he went to put his hands in his face to hide, but Matt stopped him. “Don’t, please don’t hide. You’re beautiful when you blush.”

Devon’s blush deepened and he was pretty sure that he was the shade of an eggplant, but he didn’t hide his face and let his hands fall back to the table.

“Thanks,” Matt said. “It’s easier to see your face when you’re not hiding it.”

“Yeah, and it’s easier to see yours, too.”

They each took a sip of wine and Devon helped himself to some bruschetta for lack of anything else to do. He had so many things that he wanted to ask, but there was one question that burst forth from his limps without waiting. “Is any of this worth it if you’re not real?” He took a large sip of wine. “I’m sorry, I mean, shit. I’m sorry. I mean, I know you’re real because you’re here, but are you like real real, and how many ones and zeros are you made out of?” Gods, his stupid brain. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that either, I assume that the makeup of your genetic code is a private thing. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m sorry, that was probably rude. I want to know you and I’m so nervous that I’m babbling. I’m sorry.” All of these words came rushing out one after the other. The moment of silence hung between them and Devon wondered if he had blown everything before the date began.

Instead of lecturing Devon, Matt just opened his mouth and laughed. Matt was laughing so hard that the table shook with his laughter. Devon didn’t get the sense that Matt was laughing at him, only that Matt found whatever Devon had said incredibly funny. Soon, the laughter worked its magic and Devon found that he was laughing right along with Matt. Devon couldn’t remember when he had laughed so hard.

When Melanie came back to the table with another bottle of wine and an amuse bouchée of oysters on filo pastry, Devon could barely breathe and tears were streaming down his face. She gave them a knowing smile and left the food and the wine on the table. Devon tried to control is breathing so that he could relieve the joyful pain in his stomach.

Looking at Matt through his tears, he felt the joy within him slip into his limbs, filling him with light. He didn’t remember being so happy as he was in this moment. He only wished that it was real, that he could have everything that he wanted with Matt.

Matt cleared away the tears from his own eyes and reached for Devon’s free hand. “You are the cutest man I’ve ever met. I have never heard someone who speaks their true thoughts. You’d be surprised by how many men want me to think they’re all that.”

“Don’t you want that?”

“In my world, I can have anything and everything I want. I don’t need to be impressed, but I’m impressed by you.”

Devon let out a loud laugh. “Really? You frighten me. I’ve never been so happy and so scared at the same time.”

“What about this frightens you?”

Matt took one of the oysters and held it up to Devon to eat. Devon looked at the offering and leaned in. Matt’s fingers were warm on his lips and Devon was more turned on by that than the oyster which was an aphrodisiac in some cultures. “Everything. I mean, how can you be real? Do I still have to pay a fee to Belong to You? If I don’t pay, do you disappear? How are you real?” He shook his head. “You don’t follow any kind of pattern.”

“I know that these patterns bring you comfort and they make you feel safe.” Matt said.

“They are what makes me feel safe.” He took a quick sip of wine. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Matt brought Devon’s hand to his lips and kissed Devon’s knuckles softly. Devon had never been so turned on.

“Okay,” Devon said, swallowing thickly. “I will try.”

The silence stretched on for a few moments as Matt looked into Devon’s eyes. “Who hurt you?” Matt asked gently.

“You don’t have enough time for that this evening.”

“Well, promise me when you feel like it that we’ll make time. I want to get to know you, Devon. All of you. I don’t know why or how the people before me made you feel less than, but I don’t think you’re less than at all. Your perfect.”

Devon let out another bark of laughter just as Melanie brought more food to the table. It was a gorgeous dish full of pasta and clams in a red wine sauce. It was one of Devon’s favourites. “We didn’t order this.” Devon said.

“I know, but you’re going to eat this anyways. It’s better than what you would have ordered. I’ll bring you some more bread to soak up the sauce, it’s so good.” She gave Devon a wink. “Save some room for the freshest baklava you’ve ever had.”

“You know I normally make mine with rose water.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s because you’re wrong. Who would eat a flower when they could taste the sweetness of honey?”

She walked away from the table and Matt whistled. “Wow, she really likes you. She never gives me anything except what I order.”

Blushing, Devon looked into Matt’s eyes, and they were somehow brighter than before. He wondered what his eyes looked like to Matt, whether they looked like a storm that he wanted to lose himself in, too.

“I’m lucky.” He said.

Reaching out for Devon’s hand, Matt took hold of it and ran his thumb over the knuckles. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Rather than pull his hand away, rather than run for the door and hide from what he was feeling, Devon spoke. He normally kept silent; it was easier than to speak his thoughts out loud where they wouldn’t make sense to anyone but him. That’s what was supposed to happen according to the pattern.

“The pattern hasn’t worked out. I don’t know why, but this is totally outside of everything I know. I know words that follow the same pattern, I know worlds that are all the same kind of backdrop. I know what the man is supposed to say to the woman, or the woman to the man.”

“Of course you do.” Matt said. “It’s what you love and what you teach. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

“I’m so afraid. I’m afraid I like you too much already but there will never be a chance to really be together. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”

“You’re holding my hand right now,” Matt said. “If it’s that important to you, there are places that we can go to be together, upgrades you can do to your home.” Matt smiled the most wonderful grin and Devon melted even more. When he smiled, Matt had a crooked eyetooth. It seemed so out of place. Wasn’t AI supposed to be perfect with not a blemish in place?

“I don’t know what I want,” Devon said. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“You’re feeling things for me just like I am for you. Do the emotions feel real to you?”

Despite his fear, Devon nodded. “Very real.” He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid, terrified and petrified.”

“That’s a lot,” Matt said. “But I’m sitting here waiting to hear what you’re going to say. Just because I’m AI doesn’t mean I don’t have emotions. You can’t hear it right now, but my heart is thumping a thousand times a minute. I’m so nervous right now because I don’t know what you’re going to do or say.”

Matt squeezed Devon’s hand and, in that moment, Devon could feel Matt’s heartbeat in Matt’s fingertips. Devon didn’t know that AI could have a heartbeat. Looking into Matt’s eyes, Devon could see the fear that Matt spoke of.

“Why are you afraid of anything? You’re an AI. You can have the world.”

“I’m looking at the world and its sitting in front of me.” Matt said. “What say you, Professor? Are we starting our own story, or are we going to turn the page?”

Devon looked at Matt and wondered how this beautiful man could want him. He also knew that this was the moment in romances when the heroine made a grand gesture, or the hero declared his love. He knew this and he was terrified of saying yes but even more frightened of saying no.

Holding up his glass, Devon said, “There is no reason that a story has to end when you turn the last page. It lives on inside you. Let’s tell that kind of story together.” It was the most honest thing that he had ever said to anyone. He wasn’t good with speaking his feelings, they always got tangled up in everything. Matt couldn’t know it, but it was also the most vulnerable thing that Devon had ever spoken out loud.

Matt let out a breath that had had obviously been holding and smiled brightly and let out a laugh that sounded like air being given the breath of life. “Thank goodness, yes please. I’d love that.”

They clinked glasses together, filling the air with a clear beautiful sound. Somewhere in the distance, Devon could hear the melody of Good King Wenceslas playing and knew that they would be okay.