Gabe whistles, turning around to grab a large plate and a pair of tongs. “Twenty bucks says you guys won’t sleep tonight.”
Doubtful. After sleeping in a hospital bed, Cal will sleep anywhere.
Gabe slides them the big plate and a smaller, empty one, then does something on the iPad set on top of the counter. “What are you drinking?”
“I might skip the chai this time,” Dawson chuckles. “I’ll have a kombucha.”
“Wise choice,” Gabe says, laughing. “Cal?”
“You usually get coffee,” Dawson says when Cal turns to him for help.
Cal shrugs. “Sure.”
“Okay. A long black for him.”
Gabe raises an eyebrow, looking at Cal. “For a black coffee drinker, you sure have a sweet tooth.”
“Yeah, it’s a recent development,” Dawson says.
“Interesting,” Gabe says, tapping on the iPad. “That’ll be $37.50.”
Dawson does something on his watch and brings it to a small machine next to the iPad. It makes a beeping sound.
“Alrighty. You two take a seat, we’ll bring the drinks over.”
“Thanks.” Dawson takes the plate with the pastries and the cutlery and they walk over to a table by the window. After sitting down, Dawson cuts everything in half and pushes the bigger plate towards Cal. “Go easy on this. Don’t forget you had abdominal surgery.”
Always so thoughtful,Cal thinks affectionately. He reaches for the croissant first and takes a bite, sweetness bursting on his tongue. A moan leaves his lips, his eyes falling shut.
When his eyes open, he sees Dawson looking at him with concern. “O-kay... Do you two need to be alone?”
“What? Why?” Cal says through a mouthful, taking another bite before he’s finished the first.
“Just…” Dawson looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Never mind. The hospital food must have been pretty terrible.” He takes a bite of the cinnamon roll.
Shoveling the last bit of the croissant in his mouth, Cal makes a grab for the cinnamon roll too. The glaze makes his fingers sticky, and he licks them before tearing into the dough, letting out a sigh of pleasure at the new, spicy taste.
Wondering which of the three is the best, he tears off a chunk of the donut before finishing with the cinnamon roll. Five seconds later, he has a winner.
“This is amazing,” he moans, abandoning the cinnamon roll and devouring the donut.
“Okie dokie,” comes a cheerful voice that doesn’t belong to Gabe. “I’ve got a bottle of vinegar here and one long—” A man who must be Zeke stops at their table, holding a steaming mug of what must be coffee and a glass bottle with some other dark liquid. He stares at Cal with a slightly worried expression, then chuckles and slides the drinks to them. “Wow. I hope diabetes doesn’t run in the fam.”
Dawson lets out a breathless laugh. “No, but cardiovascular diseases do.” To Cal, he says, “You, uh, might want to slow down.”
Cal swallows the last bit of the donut. “But it’s so good.”
“A sucker for instant gratification. I approve,” Zeke says, grinning. “I’m Zeke. I’d shake your hand, but they both seem to be occupied.”
“Cal,” he replies, tearing into the cinnamon roll again.
“Cal, seriously, slow down.” Dawson pats his hand, his expression somewhere between amused and horrified.
Feeling thirsty, Cal grabs his coffee, careful not to burn his tongue as he takes a sip.
And instantly spits it back into the mug, gagging.
“That’s… What’s that?” He puts the mug down like it’s filled with poison. Definitely tastes like it.
