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Oliver flushed, trying not to let his thoughts get too dirty. “Yeah?”
“Mm. Especially the ocean. It’s buoyant, and my legs don’t have to work as hard. I don’t need balance.” He sighed softly, his gaze trained out the window. “I think I’ll put it on my list.”
“Can I ask—why didn’t you plan, like, some tropical island excursion for your honeymoon? You wouldn’t have met me, but you could literally be swimming with stingrays right now.”
Victor’s mouth twitched in the corners. “Alice didn’t want to go anywhere. She told me I could plan a honeymoon so long as we could drive there in less than two hours.”
Oliver winced. “Charming.”
“She actually was. Sometimes. But I should have seen the red flags. Unfortunately, I’m pretty skilled at ignoring what people really think about me. It’s easier than admitting what I am to them.” Victor cleared his throat, then turned to look at Oliver fully. “And honestly?” he added, looking over at Oliver. “I have no regrets.”
Oliver refused to take that the way he really wanted to and instead put his focus on driving to his favorite little convenience store. It was less than a mile from Victor’s rental, which was kismet in itself, and it was run by an older Japanese couple who loved where they lived but missed certain things about living in Kyoto. So, they’d set up Kyoto Market with food that was to die for, in perfectly convenient little packages. They had walls of imported drinks, aisles of snacks, and the best microwaved quick foods Oliver had ever tasted.
He was grinning as he pulled into a parking spot, and he drummed his fingers on the wheel. “You ever been to Japan?”
Victor laughed softly and shrugged. “Will you be angry if I say yes?”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “No, pretty boy.” Fuck, he loved the way those words made Victor blush. “Have you been to their convenience store markets?”
“Unfortunately, I was in an office the entire time I was there. I had meal delivery service and then airplane food.”
Oliver grimaced. “Well, you’re in for a treat. If you trust me.”
Victor opened the door and stepped out before looking over his shoulder. “I trust you.”
That statement should not have been as powerful as it was.
He came around the car and waited for Victor at the curb and then led him in through the doors. The place looked a bit chaotic. It was every bit an Asian market, with stuffed shelves and stock boxes piled against the walls. It felt warm and welcoming, and the aisles were just wide enough for Victor to walk down without bumping into anything.
Oliver moved slowly when he realized Victor was perusing, so instead of rushing back to the hot-food section, he went to the candy aisle and loaded up on the lychee-flavored stuff he couldn’t get anywhere else. Dumping everything into a basket, he wandered back to the cold section, where he found Victor tracing the edge of an onigiri.
Oliver peered over Victor’s shoulder. “That one’s spicy tuna,” he murmured.
Victor smiled. “You like these?”
“Love them, but we’re here for burritos.”
Victor turned and lifted a brow. “A burrito in this place?”
“They’re eclectic,” Oliver said, spreading his hands as best he could while not losing his candy. “They’re really good friends with a Mexican family who have a little food truck that parks near the wharf. On Wednesdays, they have tamales, which are to die for, but they always sell out before noon, and they make microwaved burritos for gas stations to sell.”
With that, Oliver turned on his heel and grabbed two burritos from the cooler and tucked them in with the candy. “If you’re hungry now, we can heat them up here.”
“Or,” Victor said very softly, “there’s a spot behind my rental that overlooks the ocean. We could sit out there and watch the waves.”
For most of Oliver’s life, he had ready access to the ocean, even when he was destitute and bouncing between foster families and group homes. He thought he should be well over wanting to just sit and watch the ocean, and sometimes he was, but with Victor beside him, it sounded like paradise.
“Yeah. I…if you’re okay with it.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Victor said, “You’re the one on the clock.”
Oliver winced. It was true. He hadn’t gotten paid yet, but the verbal contract between them wasn’t something he could ignore any longer. He took a breath, then nodded. “Call it the gas station burrito package.”
Victor huffed a laugh. “There’s no gas here.”
Oliver grinned and turned, skipping toward the front. “It still counts!” he sang, then grinned at Mrs. Sato, who was watching the whole interaction with the smallest smile. “Just these.”
She nodded and began to ring him up. “Your friend is very good-looking.”
