“Yeah, so…” His smile is nervous this time. “I cooked for us. I hope that’s okay. I promise I’m not trying to skimp on you. I was trying to decide where to take you, but nothing felt quite right. Then I thought I could cook and invite you to my place, but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Plus, my place is pretty small and my oven broke the other day. And then I thought, hey, maybe we could eat here, but that felt weird too.”
Gabriel is out of breath by the time he finishes talking, and Ellis has to bite back a smile. “So we’re doing…” He leaves off there.
“Oh! Yeah, so, I cooked, duh. And we’re kinda having a picnic? On the beach. Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect,” Ellis says quickly when it looks like Gabriel is going to talk himself into a mini meltdown.
“Oh, thank god.” Gabriel’s shoulders sag with relief. Ellis chuckles, kind of pleased to learn he’s not the only highly strungperson on this date. “Okay, I just need to pack up everything quickly, and then we’re out of here.”
Ellis waits for him to finish up, not wanting to meddle and get in the way. When Gabriel emerges again, he’s holding an esky in one hand, and what looks like a cake box in the other.
The whole scene is so laid back and unromantic that some of the tension Ellis hadn’t realized has built up instantly dissipates. He’s been totally overthinking the whole date thing.
“Could you take this? It’s cinnamon rolls.”
Ellis takes the box from him, saliva pooling in his mouth. “You made cinnamon rolls?”
“Mini ones. Fresh from the oven. I needed dessert that wouldn’t melt.”
“Brilliant.” He’s fucking missed the cinnamon rolls and practically inhaled the one Jordan brought him yesterday. “Do we need blankets or anything?” He doesn’t know much about picnics, but he knows that.
Gabriel puffs up. “Done. Everything is set. Cutlery, plates. I negotiated candles and stuff, but thought it might be a bit overkill.”
“They’d probably get blown out anyway.”
“Probably. Unfortunately, I am a hopeless romantic that has no problem defying the force of nature.”
Ellis snorts. “I figured.”
After Gabriel has switched off the lights and locked up, they head to the beach around the corner. There are a few people walking or jogging along the shore, but Gabriel has strategicallyplaced the picnic near the bushes. For privacy, would be Ellis’ guess. The blanket is big enough that they could each sit in one corner and stretch out their legs, but they end up sitting almost next to each other.
“What would you like to drink? The choices are pretty narrow, but I have iced tea, Solo, or soda water.”
“Iced tea is good.” Carbonated drinks make him burp, but Gabriel doesn’t need to know that.
“Gotcha.” Gabriel hands him a can of iced tea and nods towards the horizon. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”
The sun has started setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. Ellis isn’t one for sunsets—or sunrises for that matter—but for some reason the sight gets to him this time.
“It is.”
And okay, as Gabriel starts unpacking the food he’s made—which, by the way, smells divine—Ellis has to admit there’s something magical about the whole set-up. He gets why people do this.
“I apologize in advance.” Gabriel holds out a container to Ellis. “There’s no meat in this. I’m vegetarian and handling, you know, animal corpses is something I really can’t do. It’s fine when I’m eating out with someone who orders meat. I just can’t touch it. Or smell it.”
Did Gabriel seriously apologize for something like that after cooking all this for them? “No, that’s fine. I actually don’t eat much meat myself. When I do, I stick to chicken and fish. Have to keep an eye on my arteries.”
Gabriel visibly relaxes. “I thought you don’t eat sea monsters,” he points out with a smile.
“Fish are not monsters,” Ellis says with an eyeroll. “Well, some of them, maybe.”
“Right, right. So, your arteries, huh?”
“Gift from my dad. Heart diseases run in the family. High cholesterol, blood pressure through the roof, and all that.”
Gabriel’s forehead furrows with concern. “That certainly explains why Cal had a heart attack before forty,” he adds absentmindedly, then gives Ellis a startled look. “Wait, you’re prone to heart conditions and you used to drink a five-shot long black for how long?”
“Since I was sixteen?” Ellis admits, smiling crookedly. “But it used to be only three shots. I just developed a tolerance.”
