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White Chocolate Mocha: Chapter 5

It's been a month since Evan and Rey. It's been a while since I've slept well. I haven't even touched myself since that night. The thought has come to mind, I've even gone through the motions of setting up a nice seat, turning on some porn, going to a video I have always found particularly rousing, and nothing. Nothing happened.

I've started to hate every part of the Dylan I was.

I've changed my hair, let it grow out just a little.

I've quit my job. I found a new one as a cashier at the local supermarket.

I've changed my wardrobe, I threw away all the clothes that reminded me of then.

I've changed my body. I got a membership to a different gym and started going every day, either early morning or late at night.

This person is foreign to me, and I like him better.

Dylan 2.0 wakes up early, looks out the window with an optimistic perspective since he knows that nothing is going to get in his way. Life is simpler now, there isn't anything to get in the way. No job or dick to worry about pleasing, just me and myself, living. Surprises me that it took me so long to realize that I could be content in life with just living. I find solace in the fact that I don't need anything to get me through the day.

As I finish getting ready for the day, I stop. I examine the mirror to find a rather handsome Akita looking back, his fur properly groomed, a large change from the frazzled fur of the busy accountant. His eyes are sheer white, not the normal red with tiredness before his morning coffee. His smile has become more natural, not the strained smile he used to put on to persuade others that he's happy. His style has changed, that same white button up with a pair of slacks has been replaced by a much more vibrant blue and black button, the straight slacks replaced by a pair of slim fit jeans. The best part I like about Dylan 2.0 is the look on his face, not the dreary, depressive, dependent fur I was before. This Dylan is confident, his nose held high, his back straight, and a burning drive in his eyes to do better for himself.

When tragedy strikes, you are given two choices. You can sit and stay where you are and wallow in your own self-pity, or you can keep moving forward, find a direction and keep moving. And that's exactly what I have done. I've moved on, and I could never be any happier from what's happened.

I walk out into the cold dark parking lot and make my way to the car. The sun isn't out yet thankfully. I get into my car and make my way to my gym. As I arrive I feel myself fill with energy as I stride into the front doors and swipe my pass.

"Hey there Dylan!" The young vixen says to me with a smile as she sees me walk past. I offer a raised paw as a greeting and continue on my way. I throw my bag into the locker I have claimed through consistent use. I hop onto a treadmill and start my work out as usual, blasting fast paced music into my ears and let the thoughts flow through, not dwelling on any particular thing. I've noticed that it's poisonous to dwell on things. I've spent my whole life dwelling on the past, dwelling on the future. I'm done. Now I just keep moving. I can't stop. If I stop, I'm afraid what could happen. I don't want to get stuck like I was back then. I will keep moving forward in life. Sure, I'm only a checker at the local grocery shop right now, but who knows what is ahead. Whatever is, I plan to find out sooner rather than later. With a confident stride and perfect posture, I find the 3 mile mark on the machine and slow it to a stop. I get off, wipe off the sweat, and start on weights. Before, I never thought that I needed to get a full workout. I thought cardio was enough, but recently I've learned that you need a well-rounded work out in order to get the best of your time.

It didn't seem too long before I was done with the weights and it was time for me to get ready for work. I found my way to the locker room and gathered my things, but I was stopped.

"Hey, I know you!" I was turned around by the voice coming from behind me.

There was a brown otter staring at me with black eyes, a smile on his muzzle and a surprised look on his face. He looked young, well, at the least he's younger than me. Maybe a few years. He still had that youthful pep that hasn't been stolen yet. He's also got a much leaner frame. The bulk of aging hasn't hit him in one way or the other.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know you," I say trying to get out of whatever this confrontation was. Unfortunately for me, this otter was more persistent than most furs.

"Of course, you probably wouldn't remember me. My name's Oscar. I work... well, worked, at the steakhouse on this side of town." It hit me that it's the same Oscar that served us during our date.

"Oh, Oscar, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you." I wasn't too sorry, I don't remember any service furs, well, almost.

"Don't worry about it, I get that a lot!" His energetic smile persists and his stare doesn't let up, he comes closer so we speak face to face. "I get it a lot, most furs are in a bit too much of a rush. They don't really stop to notice their surroundings. Plus, most people don't have the money to be a regular at that place, nor do I think they would be able to be regulars at a place like that for too long." He chuckled. "So, what's your name?" He held out a paw.

"It's Dylan, nice to officially meet you."

"Likewise! So, how are things going with that sheppie?" he says in a playful manner. He looks at me and after a short pause, his light expression fades, his ears splay against his head and a worried looks appears on his face. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. We just didn't work out." Probably because I haven't seen him since the morning after. I try to lighten up my facial expressions and they seem to make the otter content.

"That's a darn shame. You two looked cute together. That guy must be stupid to let a looker like you slip through the cracks." I can feel the light tan fur around my cheeks turning red.

"Thanks, that's kind of you to say."

"Don't worry about it, if I had a crack at you, I wouldn't ever let go," he says as he scratches the back of his neck. His darker brown fur hides it, but his eyes can't lie. He's as embarrassed as I am. "Speaking of which, mind giving this otter that chance? Dinner, tonight?" His eyes seemed to widen with curiosity. I had the desire to instantly shut him down. Give him the excuse that I've already set up into my head in the case that any guy would come around asking, but the words don't come out. No. It's all that I need to say, yet, there is nothing. I guess after thinking about it, what could it hurt. A meal with some decent company, as far as I could see. It doesn't seem so bad, and this guy seemed nice enough.

"S-sure," the word came out hesitantly enough.

The rest of the day went really well. Work went as expected, as it often does. Everything changes when I get a text later that night from the otter with the details. He was taking me out to some restaurant, nothing really fancy. That's when I realized that I wasn't sure what to wear, or what to do, or what to say. It feels like it's been forever since I've been in the dating scene, and this Dylan has never been on a date before. The thought crosses my mind to text him back and tell him that I won't be able to make it, that something came up at work, but that would be a total lie. I could say something happened in my family, but that just seems too personal. It would bring about more questions, and I wouldn't want to add on suspicion. My digits, without my knowledge, type in "See you there." It takes a while, but when I get out of my shower, I find something to wear, fix my hair a bit, brush it, make sure its not as shaggy as I normally let it be.

"You've got this Dylan," I say into the mirror at the Akita, "it's just a date, you've done it before, and you can do it again. It's not that big of a deal. You can get through tonight, and if things go well, who knows what will come out of it." I affirm my resolution with a determined smirk and a nod.

At the restaurant, things are about as awkward when I walk in. I feel out of place. This isn't the kind of place that I would normally go eat at, let alone a date. The place smells of dough and beer. I look around the very dimly lit open space. It takes a while before the brown slightly webbed paw stick up and waves around. I quickly make my way over. I guess that the years haven't been as kind to my low light vision. God I feel old. As I make my way over I almost trip over a few people's bags, some purses, a guy's leg he let out into the walk way. I see a smile on the otter's face, seemingly amused at my misfortune.

"Hey there, handsome," he says through that same smile on his muzzle. I give him a polite smile and head nod. "So, I already ordered us a large pie. I'm not sure how much you eat, but we can always take the leftovers home. I also ordered you a pint of the house brew."

"Oh, thank you, sounds wonderful, but what do you mean pie?" I figured this place was pretty progressive in its ideas, which could be seen by the various hipster characters at the bar in their tight jeans that would probably tear with the slightest arousal, but eating pie as an entrée?

"Pizza pie. Since I met you first at the steakhouse, I decided that meat would be a good choice, so I got the meatlover's special. I hope I was good in that decision." He still held onto that eager look in his eyes and polite smile.

"Yeah, that sounds perfect! I'm quite the carnivore."

We trade polite dinner conversation. "How's work", "Where are you from", and "Any hobbies" are traded across the table. I try my best to make myself seem cool, answering things only slightly twisted to seem cooler. I take the occasional sip of my beer. It's not as disgusting as I thought it would be, but I don't dare to take more than a sip at a time. Every time I do, I give him an approving smile and a twitch of my ears. I just don't understand what changed between the few years of difference between these kids and my generation. Taking a date out for pizza and a beer? I understand if it's a date a few weeks or months into the relationship, then it'd be fine to explore something new with a date, but on a first date! I try my best not to show how disappointed I am at the food when it comes. It seems like overpriced delivery with not nearly deep enough crust to fill anyone up. The slim otter smiles as he finishes his third slice and places his napkin on his plate.

I have no idea where these people get it. I get trying to keep your figure, but there is no way he's anywhere near full. I've already finished half and I'm still hungry. He starts talking about some art show he went to go see with a couple of friends the other day. I don't pay too much attention to him. I've already chocked this up as a failed date. There's been far too many breaks in conversation for anything further to develop. My eyes start to wander, I'm sure he catches it, occasionally I see his eyes looking for something in mine, I doubt he found anything. The scene is far too boring for a fur of my tastes. The hipster environment really makes me feel like a foreign object in a body and I can already feel the energy of the room trying to push me out. The only thing keeping me tethered to this place is the otter so interested in talking that he probably hasn't noticed how uncomfortable I am here.

As I look for something more interesting, I unfortunately find it. I look over at the bar again and find a certain fur, a fur I haven't seen in a while. There he is, working his magic. Chatting up another guy, much younger and much more "hip" than I am. He must have just turned twenty-one. The German Shepard has his eyes locked onto the younger fur. I start to scowl and the otter can't help but pick up on it. He turns around to see what I'm looking at and immediately finds the problem.

"Forget about him! He doesn't deserve your time and thought." As much as I wanted that to be true, I couldn't hold down these feelings of anger and pain from the sight of the barista. After a while of accidentally ignoring him, he speaks up again. "Alright, we need to fix this. Here," he says as he pushes his second full bear over to my side of the table. He doesn't need to say anymore. I've got what he wants me to do. Sadly, I don't seem to give it a second thought. It seems perfect. I pick up the mug and make my way over. He is so interested in that boy's conversation he doesn't see it come. I seem to black out for just a moment, long enough to reawaken to the Sheppie's fur drenched in the beer. We make eye contact for a brief second, but it feels like eternity and I wish it was longer. I feel all the old emotions come right back up as his shining green eyes stare me down. I do my best to have my eyes do the talking for me, but no matter how intense the look on my face feels, I still feel like there's a bit of sadness in my eyes. I try my best to hide it, but I know, he can see it. The twink he is probably fucking can see it. Hell, Oscar, although he was turned away, probably saw it. I turned around, gave Oscar a thank you for the meal, and walked out.

I couldn't give a proper explanation for why, but I cried myself to sleep that night.