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“Perry, I want to apologize to you,” Rock said. The look on his face suddenly got serious.
“For trying to get me to like pineapple pizza?” I asked. “Apology not accepted, if so.”
His smile was the only solace I had from my anxiety.
“I think I took things too far with you, not realizing how it might affect you,” he said, his expression genuine. “I don’t want things to be weird between us. And if you’re not comfortable with what we did, I need to apologize for that.”
I let out a sigh that turned into a feeble laugh. “I was comfortable with it, Rock.”
I was really, really comfortable with it, actually. The thing I wasn’t comfortable with was this conversation, right now.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Perry, the last thing in the world I want is for you to feel weird about what we did. I know I loved it. Way more than I expected to, actually, which I don’t understand. But it’s different for you, and I need to respect that.”
“Right,” I said slowly. “And you don’t want to do it anymore.”
He cocked his head to one side. “That’s… another thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
I held up a hand. “I understand. You’re straight. You don’t have to—”
“I don’t think I’m straight, Perry,” he said suddenly, his expression finally serious. It was as if all of the energy had changed in the room, but only I was aware of it. The rest of the bar just carried on as usual, as if a complete tectonic shift hadn’t just happened.
Of course, it hadn’t happened, for anybody but us.
“You… what?”
He shrugged animatedly, like he was talking about a phenomenon of the universe he couldn’t explain. “All last week, everyone kept saying that to me. I’m straight, so I couldn’t enjoy anything we did. I’m straight, so I was just faking it all. But I think I’m realizing that love is more complicated than that.”
Jesus.
If before it had been a tectonic shift, this was a full blown explosion.
“Love,” I repeated quietly, unable to string together more words.
For the first time, I saw a blush set in on Rock’s cheeks. “I mean, yeah. Love, or lust, or desire for things with another person. I’m not trying to say—I’m sounding dumb, here—”
He was stumbling over his words. Just like I always did. I had never heard him do that. It was both massively adorable, relatable, and completely unexpected.
“I get it,” I said. “I promise, Rock.”
He took a deep breath before taking a sip of his beer.
“I didn’t want to be selfish with you, Perry,” he said finally. “I purposely didn’t push for more because I couldn’t understand the way I was feeling. It’s all so new.”
I cleared my throat, steadying myself by leaning against the bar.
“But after we left the inn, and I was away from you again, it was clearer than ever. I enjoyed what we did. And I would do it again. And again. And again.”
My insides were nothing but fluttering, like charged particles in air. “I would, too,” I managed to say.
“But I respect that you want to open your world up, to date other guys, all of that good stuff.”
I shook my head. “There’s no other guys, Rock.”
I saw his eyes widen, just a little. He licked his lips, the side of his mouth crooking up in a half-smile. “Well I like the sound of that, Chef,” he said softly.
I could have melted right into the floor.
“Okay,” I said. “I need to go finish what I’ve been cooking up tonight. And then I’m going to take my evening break. And I’m going to sit next to you. And we can… hang out.”
His smile widened. “Is that what I think it is? Are you asking me on a date?”
I blushed so hard it burned. “Oh my God.”
“You are,” he said, knowing exactly how much he was teasing me. “And I love it. Yes, Chef, I will absolutely go on a date with you. Does it count as our first real one, even though it’s just during your shift break, and we’ve already slept together?”
“Jesus, Rock,” I said, but I was beaming. “We’re in public.”
“And you love every minute of it,” he said. “Now you need to go finish that thing you’ve been making, because I want you back out here sooner, and I don’t know how patient I can be.”
I bit my lower lip. “Five minutes. Maybe even four. I will be back in four-ish minutes, with something very sweet.”
“I cannot fucking wait,” he said.
I rushed back to the kitchen, my body buzzing with adrenaline. I grabbed my bag of turbinado sugar fast, and sprinkled it over the cherry cake with abandon.
He wanted me. He wanted me, in the way that I wanted him. I had been so busy worrying about my own confusion that I had never stopped to think that someone else may have been feeling the same way. It felt otherworldly, like I was living someone else’s life, and it was a really, really fucking good one.
