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Gabe seems a little anxious and for a second I wonder if he's gay and that's why he feels uncomfortable about going out with me. But then I remember how he looked at my legs that day, so I toss that idea aside. Maybe talking will relax him a little.
“So how old are you?” I ask.
He doesn't look over to answer me. “Twenty-five. You?”
“Nineteen. Almost twenty.”
Gabe's jaw tenses. Is my age what's bothering him? Let's get away from that topic then. “Have you always wanted to be a cop?”
“Yeah. It runs in my family.” We pull into the police station. He turns with a serious expression on his face. “Can I trust you in my car?”
“Of course. I can go inside if you want.”
Gabe shakes his head. “Sit here and wait.”
“Yes, sir.” I smile.
Gabe leaves me to go inside the station and do whatever it is he needs to do. About thirty minutes later, he walks back out, dressed in jeans and a red button up shirt. He looks even bigger now than he did in his uniform. Without his hat, I can see that he has curly hair. Can he get any hotter?
“Where would you like to go?” He asks as soon as he's in the car.
I tell him about a twenty-four hour breakfast diner across town. The ride is silent once more, but that's cool. Gives me plenty of time to think of different things to talk about at the diner. After all, I know nothing about this guy. Gabe reaches for the door, just as I do, causing his hand to land over mine.
He cracks a smile. “I'll get it. You're a lady, so-”
“That means I can't open the door by myself?” I quip.
Gabe lets my comment fly right over his head. “No. It means I'm a gentleman and you don't have to.”
Hm. Fine. I drop my hand, and he finally opens the door. We find a booth along the wall and take a seat. There aren't a lot of people in here. Two old men at the bar, an elderly lady and a young boy at a booth, and then a middle-aged couple. The waitress promptly comes to take our drink orders. Once she walks away, I'm about to ask him a question, but he beats me to it.
“How did you get your name?” He asks, looking over the menu.
I shrug like it's no big deal and like it never bothers me. It's not just a name though. It's an identity. And mine is tied to nothing I would consider good. I've even thought about changing my name, but deep down, I know it fits me. So I keep it. But I don't tell Gabe any of that. Instead, I say, “My parents wanted a boy and loved the name Ryan. Turns out I've never been able to meet their expectations. They decided to name me Ryan anyway. What about you? Any special significance to your name?”
“Not really. It was the only name my parents agreed on.”
Better than what happened with me. “You said being in law enforcement runs in the family?”
Gabe nods. “Yeah. All the men and some of the women have been in law enforcement at some point in their lives. My dad and granddad are retired. My older brother actually works for the FBI. Being a police officer just fit.”
“That's cool.” With a small pause, I continue, “I guess I should apologize for my behavior the other day. I don't usually leave the house without pants. Pretty sure that's what led to me getting the ticket. Next time I'll know better.”
Gabe laughs. “Oh, yeah. It was that part of your behavior that sealed the deal. Your attitude and actual violation had nothing to do with it. I feel kind of bad about it now that you're buying me a late night snack.”
“I deserved it.” I shrug.
The waitress returns to take our order. Gabe gets pancakes, and I order French toast. She keeps giving me sideways glances. What the hell is her problem? When she walks away, Gabe chuckles, shaking his head as he catches my attention.
“It's probably because of how you're dre
ssed in all black. You look a little sketchy.”
I look down at my clothes. “Well, I had to dress the part. That's half the fun.”
“Yet you were still spotted. You're a terrible criminal.” He laughs, and it's such a hearty laugh. It's adorable. “You're a college student, right? What's your major?”
Frowning, I say, “I'm undecided. You sound like you had it all figured out. Your career path was basically laid out for you, and you knew that you would be happy with that job. I'm assuming, anyway. I, on the other hand, don't have a fucking clue. You have a passion for it. I don't have any passions or anything that I'm so good at that I would want to do it for the rest of my life.”
