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Laughing at the subject change, Oliver shrugged and flicked through the short menu items. “No idea. Like I said, I never do stuff like this. We should order the most decadent thing on the menu, though. Like…lobster tail smothered in fois gras and truffle oil.”
Gabe giggled, face still behind the menu. “I’m a vegetarian.”
“Christ,” Oliver muttered. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Not on your life.”
Oliver felt his heart pounding at how easy it was all coming tonight, how comfortable and wonderful it was. Never had he connected to someone like this. Like he’d known Gabe all his life. He took a breath and his eyes settled over his menu at the other man. “Fine. Just order the most expensive salad then, and you’d better have at least four more drinks. The bill had better not be less than a hundred bucks.”
“Trying to get me drunk?”
“Trying to break my bank, more like,” Oliver said with a wink.
The pair eventually did decide on food, sharing a roasted brussels sprouts appetizer, and another cocktail. The food was delicious, the table lovely in spite of it being too dark to really enjoy the waterfront view, and the company got better as the night went on.
They skipped dessert, and Oliver gave a pleasant laugh when he saw the bill had just broken a hundred by a handful of cents. He passed over his card, and when the bill was paid, the two walked hand-in-hand out the doors, and into the chill night air.
“Fancy a stroll?” Oliver asked. “I feel like I ought to walk off a bit of the booze before I try to drive you home.”
“Mm, good point. We could take off our shoes and walk on the sand.”
It was possibly the most sappy, romantic thing anyone had ever suggested to Oliver, and he was all over it. They raced to the low, stone tide wall, casting their shoes down and rolling up their cuffs. Gabe took his hand again, and they padded over the soft, dry sand to the hard-packed wet, and began to wander toward the brightly lit pier miles down the beach.
The wind had a bite to it, and the water which occasionally nipped at their toes, was too cold to be comfortable, but Oliver swore he had never felt so happy in his life. His hand was warm in Gabe’s, and though he wanted to throw him down to the soft sand and kiss him stupid, he also felt content just walking.
“So, good date?” he asked.
Gabe gave him a curious look, head cocked to the side, a smile playing at his lips. “Not bad. I mean, for being your first.”
“Room for improvements?” Oliver asked with a cheeky smile.
Gabe giggled and yanked him a little closer. “Maybe. We’ll see how the rest of the night goes. But a fancy dinner and a walk on the beach—hard to beat that.”
“Better than going out to the clubs and cleaning up my sibling’s vomit, yeah?”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Definitely. Though…was that a date?”
“It could have been,” Oliver said, and in a bold move let go of Gabe’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist. Gabe made a startled noise, but moved in a little closer, and held Oliver right back. “I mean, had it not been for the fact you’d intended on hanging out with Leo, and interrupted my attempt to chat-up a cute Texan…it might have been.”
“Big regrets there?” Gabe asked, smiling over at Oliver.
“Hmm.” Oliver stopped walking, twisting in Gabe’s arms to cup his cheek. His head cocked to the side as he pretended to contemplate the question. “He was cute, but you are something much better.”
“What’s that?” Gabe asked, his voice barely audible over the shallow waves.
Oliver grinned. “Well, I’m not entirely sure there are words for it, you know. Just…” He trailed off and let his thumb trail over Gabe’s cheek. “Would it be incredibly inappropriate if I wanted to kiss you right now?”
“You mean on a moonlit walk on the beach with the waves crashing over our feet?” Gabe asked with a laugh. “Incredibly inappropriate.” He fisted his hand into the front of Oliver’s shirt and yanked him so close, their noses were touching. “Not that I’d mind.”
“Oh.” Oliver’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he could feel Gabe sucking in his breath. “Well then…”
Gabe tilted his head to the side just as Oliver closed the distance between them, and their lips met. It was slow, a deliberate kiss without any of the romance-novel desperation behind it. Oliver kept his hands in a firm grip over Gabe’s hips, and with parted lips, their breaths mingled together.
Their mouths closed together for a moment, locking, holding each other in place with a warm tenderness Oliver had never experienced before. Then they broke apart, slowly and carefully, Gabe’s hand still in Oliver’s shirt, Oliver’s fingers gripping into the waistband of Gabe’s jeans.
“That was nice,” Gabe whispered.
Oliver bent his head forward, pressing their foreheads together, and he grinned. “More than. Do you think we might include kissing in these promised cuddles?”
