snz

I was refilling my cardboard coffee cup when I heard the first sneeze. A muffled, throaty uh’ISHH-uh from the direction of our booth. Adam — his deep, slightly southern lilt came through on the groany last syllable. My hand twitched around the cup, and I cursed the moment I’d decided to reload on caffeine instead of hanging around chatting just a few minutes longer. While I walked back toward the booth, I saw tall, freckly, dark-haired Adam, his nose gone pink, using the hand sanitizer on the end of the table. His sprawling and sinewy hands rubbed at the gel deftly. It looked almost sensuous. The sneeze replayed in my head, and, reaching the booth, I fought back thoughts that would surely make my cheeks flush.

“So, are you going to the reception later?” Adam’s words carried over the chatter of the symposium room. I met his eyes and wondered whether they looked glassy or that was wishful thinking.

“Uh, yeah, probably won’t stay too late though. It’s a long day.” I fiddled with the rings on my fingers and thought about what’d happened the last time Adam and I found ourselves leaving a party at the same time. A hotel room, a drop of limoncello from the strangely posh mini fridge, two fantastic rounds of sex, and a pizza.

“Same here.” He paused longly, and it seemed he was waiting for me to say something more.

“Maybe we can split an Uber back to the Hyatt afterwards. It’d be nice to … catch up.” I quirked the side of my mouth in gentle innuendo.

“Yes. That —" He trailed off, and his breathing grew uneven as though he might sneeze again. It seemed to fade, and he sniffled and dabbed his nose with the back of his wrist. “That sounds great.” He finished briskly and turned away to rub his nose some more.

———

A few hours later, I had smiled through small talk with dozens of strangers and was ready to eat, drink, and flirt with Adam all night long. He’d been snuffly ever since that first sneeze and had even stowed a tissue box discreetly behind our poster board for wiping his drippy nose between visitors. We’d cleaned up our materials and now faced each other across the table lengthwise.

“Ready?” I asked. Adam nodded, and we lifted either end of the cheap but surprisingly heavy plastic table. We began filing out of the symposium hall, Adam backtracking and me shuffling along forwards. Suddenly, our delicate balance faltered as Adam took in a great, shaky breath. His eyes squinted and nostrils flared for a torturously fast moment, and he released a heavy, wet sneeze toward his chest and the table. Droplets of spray appeared on his matte powder blue shirt. A zing of sensation shot inward from my spine to my core. 

We’d stopped in the middle of the procession of research teams, but Adam dropped his end of the table — “sorry,” he gasped out — and sneezed twice more into his bare palm. eshh’IEU! heh-ISH-oo! 

“Bless,” I breathed, perhaps more throatily than strictly intended. I tried and failed not to stare at the translucent string of snot that briefly hung from Adam’s nose as he started to pull his palm away. He noticed the mess the same moment I did and returned his hand to catch it. His eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment, and he scanned the room, likely for the tissues I’d returned to the coffee bar. All the way across the hall. I moved into action, fetching the box and striding back toward where Adam stood paralyzed with his hand covering nearly his entire face. He has such big hands. I dropped the box onto the table in front of him.

“I guess we should have kept these by you,” I teased. He plucked a tissue with his opposite hand, and shamelessly I watched as he brought the paper up to his nose and gave it a good wipe and a quiet but wet blow. He cleaned off his palm on a second tissue then looked up at me. 

“God, sorry. Excuse me for that.” He sniffled twice. “This happens every time I travel. Pollen or something.” His nose had gotten redder, and he looked lightly panicked. “Sorry, um, let’s move the table, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re fine, bless you. Again.” I smiled at him and started lifting my end, wanting to reassure him and move us past the incident, despite the thousand thoughts firing through my brain, all of them saying sneeze, hot, messy, nose, fuck. 

——— 

Evening arrived, and I entered the conference reception wearing a backless dress with a cardigan that I planned to leave on a chair as soon as professionally acceptable. My hair was up in a clip with a few loose strands hanging out in the front. I felt academic-sexy, the perfect vibe for seducing my sometimes-collaborator onetime-lover. 

Speaking of — I spotted Adam near the bar with a few men I recognized as old friends of his. His curly hair looked freshly washed, and he wore an olive linen shirt, beautiful against his pale rosy complexion. Wanting him to seek me out first, I made the rounds with some acquaintances whose posters I’d enjoyed. That is, until I heard a stuttered “sorrY-ISHHuu” and saw Adam’s lanky form bend halfway to the floor out of the corner of my eye. A few conversations nearby went quiet, the better to hear a second hu’USHH muffled into Adam’s hand. 

He pulled away from his friends near-instantly, secured a few napkins off the bar, and disappeared around a corner. Fuck playing-hard-to-get. This was my moment. I made my excuses and went to hover by the bar, pretending to consider the drink options. I heard Adam sneeze twice more: desperate, vigorous sneezes likely covered by the meager cocktail napkins. He blew his nose squelchingly. A minute passed, and I expected to hear him return. He did not.

Curiosity piqued, I left the bar and stepped casually into the hallway after Adam. He stood facing a wall, nearly leaning on it, one hand braced above him. Now I was a bit worried.

“Adam?” I asked tentatively after him. He stiffened instantly.

“Uhh, hey. Um, one sec.” His speech was choppy and higher-pitched than its usual huskiness. 

“Sure.” I stared at his broad, strong-looking back, waiting while the silent awkwardness slowly peaked then waned again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I might be coming down with something, I’m not really sure.” He paused. “If you, um, still want to split that Uber, I’ll probably be going soon. But I know it’s early.” He still faced the wall.

“That’s alright. We can go.” I mustered up my nerve and wished I’d actually gotten a courage-lending sip of wine at the bar. “I mostly just wanted to hang out with you anyway.” 

Adam looked down at me over his shoulder and, seeming torn and stuck and vulnerable, finally turned his body toward me. He looked a tad disheveled, though handsome as ever, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his shirt untucked and — oh. His bulge straining against his khakis in a way that it definitely had not been when he walked into the party. I snapped my eyes back up to his, and his hands holding the soaking-wet sneeze-filled napkins twitched uncertainly in front of his pants. I glanced backward to make sure the hallway was still empty, then took a few steps toward him. I stretched out a palm for the ruined tissues, and Adam barely reached out his arm then hesitated. I nodded encouragingly, and he passed me the damp wad of paper, our fingers brushing. I dropped the trash into the bin behind me without haste.

He seemed to take a deep breath then, and his shoulders dropped an inch or two.

“I would really like to hang out with you too. Fair warning, I don’t know if I’ve got a cold or not, or if it’s just allergies. But this, um, this happens.” He spoke in a low near-whisper. I felt like my mouth might start watering.

“The sneezing? When you travel?” I asked, daring not jump to any conclusions about this man I was already halfway in love with and did not need any more reasons to want.

“No. Well, yes. But I meant. When I sneeze. I get … turned on.” All the blood in my body flowed straight to my center. My mouth opened uncouthly. I paused a second too long, because Adam was already apologizing. “I know it’s so weird, I’m sorry, I can’t control it. I just wanted to be honest —"