“That’s very male of you.” I rolled my eyes at him, but then I smiled as a small laugh escaped my lips.
“What’s wrong with a gift card?” he asked, feigning offense.
“Nothing is wrong with a gift card, if you’re going for a completely impersonal gift. But if I’m meeting your family for the first time, I want to bring something that doesn’t scream, ‘I stopped at a grocery store five minutes ago to get your birthday present.’”
“Ouch.” His hand came up to cover his heart and the wounded look he wore, with just one edge of his mouth tipped up, was absolutely adorable. Then his face went blank as he picked up his coffee again. “My sister loves my gift cards.”
I laughed, then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m sure she does.”
“I don’t want to monopolize all your time, but do you have plans on Wednesday evening? They’re playing that new scary thriller movie at the lot theatre. Wanna go see it with me?” His eyebrows were raised, eyes trained on me as he waited for my answer. Generally, I hated scary movies. When I was a teenager I’d loved them, enjoyed scaring myself silly with my friends at the movie theatre or late at night during a sleepover. But once I hit adulthood, I realized serial killers and ghosts were just one more thing to fear that I didn’t need, and found myself hating the entire genre of film. However, sitting in the studio’s movie theatre plush seats, built like love seats, didn’t sound like a bad way to spend an evening. Especially if it meant I could be close to Riot.
“I think I could make time to see a movie with you,” I answered, trying not to sound too eager.
“Great,” he said, his smile just as brilliant and beaming as I knew mine was.
“Great,” I mimicked.
“I guess we should both get back to work soon.” His eyes didn’t leave mine as he said the words and his smile didn’t dim at all either.
“I guess we should.”
“Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’re here?”
The sudden change in topic and also the rawness of his words caught me off guard. My breath faltered, the last lungful of air stopped, waiting for me to relieve the tension and exhale. I opened my mouth to try to respond, to fill the empty space between us, but he spoke first.
“I don’t know where this is headed, and I’m trying to not expect anything, but Kal, it’s nice to just sit here with you and see you smiling. Come what may, I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here too,” was all I could manage, and even that was whispered and gravelly. The breath that had been stalled was now a slightly painful lump in my throat and I tried to push it down, not wanting to ruin our happy moment with tears. But Riot’s words had done something to me, opened something up. I didn’t want to expect anything either, but I wanted to be happy, to be hopeful. This was the first time in eight years I’d been stationary, the first time I’d been standing still. I had a long-term job, a home in the same city as my job; nothing about my life in that moment was temporary. Everything felt heavier, weighed me down, held me in place.
Months ago, that feeling—the weight of all the connections, obligations, and expectations—would have caused me to panic, sent me into a tailspin and I would have picked up, moved, and run away. But sitting in that coffee shop with Riot, making plans to see his family, knowing he’d be there in a week, or a month, well, it lit me up. It warmed me. Caused parts of me that had been frozen for so long to thaw and melt away. The heat, both the heat I felt coming from him and the heat I felt inside myself, was breathtaking. This was the second time Riot had chased away my anxiety, fought the darkness and brought me into the light, and both times he’d done it with so much compassion and understanding, it was beyond amazing. It also wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t a coincidence that Riot had been the only man to make me safe and secure enough to feel. It was fate.