Earlier than usual, I had enough time to stop at Dunkin to buy a Box O' Joe and two dozen donuts, knowing I'd probably get a lecture from Sheila for causing all the diabetic blood sugars to be high. If I were in my seventies, eighties, or nineties, I wouldn't worry about my blood sugars.

"Oh, boy, coffee!" Don announced, as excited as I thought he'd be.

"And you're on time, too," Herbert added.

I poured coffee for everyone and handed out the donuts before sitting down at my usual table with the three men.

"Hi, Millie," I said. "We missed you on Friday."

"Where was I on Friday?" Millie responded.

"You had a doctor's appointment," Mrs. Carpenter reminded her.

"Oh, yeah, my daughter's always taking me to those appointments," she said. "She thinks I'm going to live forever. I'd rather she leave me alone."

"She just cares," I said.

"Ooo... I think Ezra's in love," Gloria said. "What's her name?"

Immediately, my face burned. How could I be in love? I had only known Levi for three days. Besides, I had a great poker face. Maybe Gloria was hallucinating and had another urinary tract infection or something. She always became delusional when she was ill.

"Gee whizz, give the boy a break," Joe said. "He just got here. You think he's in love just because he brought coffee and donuts?"

"I can see it in his eyes. His eyes are very expressive," Gloria said.

"I don't think Ezra's love life is anyone's business," Sheila said, coming to my rescue. She also made the assumption that I was in love. I wasn't in love. I'd never been in love and probably would never be in love.

"I'm not in love," I said. "I have a new friend... a new tenant. He's a musician, like me."

"That sounds lovely," Mrs. Carpenter said.

"You know what we haven't heard in awhile?" Jeanette said, changing the subject. I was happy to talk about something else. "Frank Sinatra."

"What are you talking about?" Herbert scoffed, shuffling the deck of cards. "He sings Sinatra all the time. It's a lunch time thing."

After setting up for lunch, I typically serenaded the group with Sinatra. Fly Me to the Moon was a popular request and it remained on my playlist.

"How 'bout he sing something else for once?" Herbert continued. "How 'bout some Elvis?"

For as long as I'd known Herbert, he wanted me to sing Elvis Presley. I never felt the urge to see any Elvis songs.

"The boy doesn't like Elvis," Don said.

"Has he ever said that?" Herbert responded.

"He would have sung Elvis if he liked him."

"Maybe I'll play Elvis some day," I said, more to appease Herbert.

"Elvis Presley's over-rated," Don said.

"The boy's been here for ten minutes, and you're already arguing over what he should sing," Joe said. "Maybe he doesn't feel like singing today. Now let's stop all this chattering and focus."

"I don't mind singing," I said.

"Focus, Ezra," Don said. "Look at your hand. Got anything good?"

I had a great hand, and they'd never know because I had one of the best poker faces around. Maybe my eyes were expressive, like Gloria said, but these guys would never look at my eyes, especially Joe with his macular degeneration. He used a magnifying glass to look at his cards.

"You know what would be nice to hear?" Mrs. Carpenter said. "Louis Armstrong. Remember when we danced to him?" she said to her husband. "I love A Kiss to Build a Dream On and Cheek to Cheek."

"I don't think I can sing Louis Armstrong," I said.

"You can sing anything," she said.

But I didn't feel comfortable singing anything but Frank Sinatra at lunch time. Maybe if we were playing Name That Tune, I'd feel differently. If I didn't carry through with my routine, something bad would happen. I needed time to think about making changes to my playlist, so I stuck to Fly Me to the Moon, adding a bonus song, You Make Me Feel So Young.

Today was a good day because all my friends were there, and I got my dance with Millie at one o'clock. I thought maybe I'd stop by the tenant's apartment after work to say hi. Thinking about him and the kiss we shared outside my bedroom window made my body burn and the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Despite Mrs. Carpenter's urging, I didn't sing Louis Armstrong. I thought maybe I'd ask Levi what he thought about me singing Satchmo; me, this white Jewish boy. It gave me an excuse to visit him.

When I got home, Levi's car wasn't in his spot, so I decided to go for a run around the neighborhood to distract myself. After an hour, Levi still wasn't home, so I gave up and went inside. I needed a shower, anyway.

In the shower, I realized Levi and I never exchanged phone numbers, so, if I wanted to stop by, I'd just have to show up unannounced. I didn't think to ask Aunt Ruth for his number. She didn't want me socializing with him, anyway.

Before dinner, I sat on my bed, scrolling through YouTube, something I never did. I found Levi's channel and checked it out, like I said I would. He looked good on camera. He had some interesting music videos on there with a band called Imperfect. I expected to find a lot of jazz with the band I saw and performed with last weekend, but that wasn't the case. Imperfect had been posting videos and performances frequently, up until three months ago. I wondered what happened. Before dinner, I decided to subscribe to the channel. I later discovered Imperfect had their own channel, too, with a good number of subscribers. I subscribed to that, too.

At eight thirty, I gathered up enough courage to go to Levi's. When I got home, I was super motivated and eager to see him, but I grew more nervous as the night wore on.

Levi's car was parked in his spot, so I knew he was home. Within seconds, the door opened.

"Hi," I said. "I would have called or texted you first, but I don't have your number. Am I interrupting something?"

"Yeah, sort of, but come in. I'm working on a new YouTube video. Would you like to be my special guest?"

On a stand, a webcam sat in front of the couch, his guitar leaning against it. Boxes remained unpacked, a new stack of albums lying beside the old stacks.

"I'm not here for that," I said. "Do you have any Louis Armstrong?"

"Louis Armstrong? I think so, but why can't you just find him on Spotify or something? You have Spotify, right?"

"Well, yeah, but it always glitches out on my phone."

"I think you just needed an excuse to see me," he said with a sheepish grin. "Would you like to come in and listen?"

"Yes, thank you," I said, walking directly to his turntable that was still on the floor. As I sat in front of the stacks of albums, I came across a Frank Sinatra album. "This collection is incredible. I sing Sinatra all the time. Fly Me to the Moon is one of my favorites."

"Yeah, mine, too," Levi said, removing the webcam from the stand before sitting on the couch.

I put the Sinatra album to the side and resumed my search. I found several Louis Armstrong albums and selected the 1952 album, Satchmo Serenades.

"If I play this song, the ladies are gonna be all over me," I said.

"The old ladies?" Levi laughed.

"Yeah. It's kinda funny. Mrs. Carpenter requested A Kiss to Build a Dream On. It's on this album."

As A Kiss to Build a Dream On started, I stood up and took Levi's hand, pulling him to his feet. "You like to dance, huh?" he said.

"Yes," I said. "Is it okay if we dance?"

"Sure, whatever," he said, placing his hand on my lower back. "You're the first person I've ever danced with. I didn't even dance at my sister's wedding."

"You're not bad for an amateur."

"Maybe because you're such a good leader."

Never one to accept compliments, I ignored his comment.

"I think the old folks are getting bored with my selection," I said.

"It's good to change things up."

"That's what I've been told. I don't want to talk. I only want to listen. I need to learn this song."

"Okay."

But Levi could only stay quiet for five seconds.

"Come to my band's practice tomorrow night."

"Ssh," I said, not in the mood to talk.

As he pressed his scratchy cheek against mine, his hand crept lower down my back, landing just below my waist.

"You wanna touch my ass, don't you? Go ahead. Give it a squeeze," I flirted with him. "Ow," I laughed as he squeezed both butt cheeks. "Stop. I need to listen."

"You told me to squeeze your ass," he said.

Once the song ended, I broke away from Levi and returned to the record player to re-play the song. Instead of dancing, I plopped down on the couch beside Levi. I wondered if he was thinking about kissing me. Although I thought about it, I picked up his guitar instead. By moving too fast, I was afraid we'd ruin what could be a good thing.

"Maybe you could listen to me try to sing Louis Armstrong," I said. "See what you think. Maybe you could make some suggestions."

With an ear for music, I only had to listen to a song a few times before playing it on the guitar. Lyrics were a different story. If I forgot the lyrics, I was known to make them up as I went along.

As Louis Armstrong sang, I strummed along, working out the chords. I played the song over and over until I thought I got it right.

"I'm going to have to buy my own record player and borrow this album," I said.

"Or maybe just find the song on YouTube if Spotify keeps glitching out," Levi said, taking the guitar from me. He leaned it on the other side of him, away from me.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "I should go home, huh?"

"You don't have to," he said as his fingers trailed along my jaw and down my cheek, tickling me, sending warm chills down my spine.

My body stiffened as his lips grazed over my neck.

"Why are you so tense?" he asked.

I asked myself the same question.

"I thought you liked me."

"I do," I said. "When I was a teenager, I thought everyone was like me. If you like someone, you ask them out, right? I never had a problem with girls. If I asked a girl out, she went out with me. So why didn't it go the same way with guys? What century are we living in, anyway? I was crazy about this one guy, so I asked him out... no big deal. When I asked him out, I realized that not everyone is like me. The guy turned me down flat, called me a lot of names, and then he punched me. Can you believe it? He punched me because I asked him out on a date. That's the one and only time I ever asked a guy out at school."

"Have you ever gone out with a guy?"

"Yeah, a few guys I met online," I said. "I know I said I'm not on social media, but I get lonely. It wasn't worth it, though. They lied about their age and only wanted one thing and I wouldn't give it to them."

"Online dating's not my thing, either. I understand what you mean by lonely."

"Have you been with a lot of guys?" I asked.

"No. I have to trust someone before I sleep with them. I'm not a one-night stand, hook-up kind of guy."

"Do you think I am?"

"I have no idea. I barely know you. I take it you've been with more women than men."

I chose not to answer him because I didn't want him to know I'd never been with a man except for an awkward hand job here and there.

"I only like men," he said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, why would I?"

"Because you're not gay."

"I don't believe in labels, but I'm not going to lie. I like women. I like the way they smell...the way they feel and taste... but I might say the same about men. I'm just speaking about sexual attraction, though. Love is something different. I've never been in love, have you?"

"Yes," he said, combing his fingers through the side of my hair. "A few times. My sister says I fall in love too easily. Maybe she's right. Can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you."

Because I wanted to kiss him, too, I nodded. Holding the side of my face, he brought his lips to mine. I returned his kiss, quick to part his lips with my tongue.

As we kissed, I raked my fingers through his thick hair, glad I was wearing loose-fitting track pants instead of jeans. I grabbed his hand before he reached my crotch.

"I don't want an awkward hand job or blow job," I said, clutching his hand.

"Who says it'll be awkward?"

"They always are," I said, standing up. Now was the time to leave. "Look, Levi, I like you a lot, and I don't want to ruin what could be a good thing."

Levi paused before responding. "Maybe you're right," he said, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Will you come tomorrow night? We'll be in room 101 at the Mountain View Music Center."

"I'll think about it," I said and kissed him once before leaving.

As I headed back to the house, I realized we forgot to exchange phone numbers... again.