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‘And to think, you didn’t want to come fifteen minutes ago.’
Gabriel grins, casting his eyes down to the menu. ‘I disagree, I very much wanted to come fifteen minutes ago.’
I laugh, scandalised, and pull my hand away.
He gives me a teasing smile as his gaze takes in the menu. ‘So, you recommend thespaghetti nero?’
When the waiter swings around, we order our meals. I get a glass of wine, and Gabriel orders sparkling water. We play footsies under the table, hiding our smiles like complete children when the waiter comes back with our drinks.
I take a sip of the wine, enjoying the complex taste. With Dad being the way he is, I’m always careful not to overdo it. As much as I despise the thought that I’m anything like him, I’m half of him—the bad stuff that’s in him is in me, too.
‘My mum texted me,’ I tell Gabriel. ‘Well, I texted her, and she finally replied.’
‘Really?’ Gabriel says, his face lighting up. ‘Where is she?’
‘Around three hours from here, in a regional town. She says she’s coming to Melbourne this weekend. We’re going to make plans to meet.’
‘Noah, that’s wonderful,’ he says, reaching forward to take my hand again. ‘I’m really happy for you.’
I look down at our entwined hands and the phraseWhat are we?pushes against the back of my teeth. As much as I want some clarity, is it worth potentially ruining what could be our last night together? I glance up at Gabriel and he smiles, then brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. His eyes smoulder as he looks up at me beneath his lashes. How could anyone not fall for this man?
And how am I going to pick up the pieces when he leaves?
When the bill comes, Gabriel hands over his credit card.
‘I want to split it,’ I protest even as the waiter whisks the bill away.
‘I don’t,’ Gabriel replies, and I guess that’s that. No arguments.
The late evening is unusually bright; the sky is deep crimson as the sun sets over the city. Whatever rain was predicted hasn’t eventuated, and what remains is one of those perfect, lazy, long summer evenings.
‘Gelato?’ Gabriel suggests, pointing to a gelato shop across the road.
‘Twist my arm, why don’t you?’
Gabriel gets a rich chocolate fondant, and I choosedulce de leche. Tipping my cone towards Gabriel, he licks the swirl off the top.
‘That’s good—here, try mine.’
Sitting like this, under the fairy lights of Lygon Street, it’s easy to imagine a future together—Christmas markets in Paris, cups of hot chocolate warming our hands as we walk arm in arm down the cobblestoned streets, laughing and seeing our breath turn to mist in the air.
‘What’s the next part of the Noah experience?’ Gabriel says as we bite down to the end of our cones.
I check my watch. It’s almost nine. ‘It’s a surprise.’
Gabriel quirks a brow. ‘Are you going to get me in trouble?’
‘The best kind of trouble,’ I say. ‘Come on, it’s a few blocks.’
We leave Lygon Street and cut across the suburbs. Sure, we could have caught the tram to Fitzroy and been there in under ten minutes, but then Gabriel would not have been bold enough to hold my hand between Barkly Street and Brunswick Road. Our fingers interlace as we weave through quiet streets lined with Victorian townhouses, tiny local bars and the odd convenience store.
We come to the town centre of Fitzroy and Gabriel lets my hand go—we’re back in public view, and the rules of our relationship as set out by Victor’s guidelines are back in full force.
Across the road, the Flamingo Bar is painted a garish, well,flamingopink. Party lights flash along the rafters, and house music pumps through the speaker system. The line curls around the block. Gabriel pauses beside me.
‘I can’t go in. If it gets back to Papa that I was outpartyingthe night before a match, he’ll kill me,’ he says. ‘The media will go into a frenzy.’
‘But you’re not even drinking,’ I say. ‘And we’ll be home before twelve.’
