That Thing Between Eli and Gwen

I walked to the kitchen, putting the bag on the counter and pulling everything out. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I kind of got one of everything that sounded good. Stevie swears by the place, so I—what?” He was just staring at me when I turned around.

“Nothing. I’m just a little annoyed with myself for falling asleep, and you went through all this trouble. I’m sure you overthought everything, from ordering the food to coming over here,” he replied, moving to get plates.

“I wasn’t overthinking. Wondering what to get is a valid concern. You eat mostly healthy anyway, so I wasn’t even sure about Chinese. But it’s better than pizza, right?”

He snickered, shaking his head at me. “Chinese food is worse for you, but it’s all right, I'll eat anything.”

I should have gotten pizza!

“And now you're thinking you should have gotten pizza.” He laughed, dishing out the food for us both.

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop making faces and I wouldn’t be able to know. Rice or noodles?”

“Always rice,” I said.

His eyes paused on the small gift I had brought over as well. It was wrapped in plain brown paper from my apartment.

I saw him reach for it, so I took it back.

“Food first,” I said, holding it behind my back.

He gave me an odd look but said nothing, handing me my plate and reaching into his wine fridge.

“Oh no, you're almost out of your dad’s wine? I feel like it’s my fault.”

“I’m nowhere near being out. My mom has a whole cellar full at the house. Besides, we know how it’s made. We can always have more produced if we really want to,” he replied, grabbing glasses and following me to the living room. He sat close by.

Once more, I smiled at his soft couch. “One day, when I move into a bigger place, I’m going to get myself this same couch.”

“Are you still using your apartment as a makeshift studio?” He took a bite and stopped, looking down at his plate. “This is amazing.”

“When it comes to food, no one knows better than Stevie. Wasn’t the food at her wedding great?”

“I thought you disliked the fish?”

“I did, but I’m pretty biased against all fish not from back home. I’m not even sure why I bothered,” I said, taking a bite.

“Do you miss it? Cypress?”

I nodded. “Some days more than others. I love New York. After you’ve lived here for a while, it’s kind of hard not to. But I miss the open spaces, and the nature. Once, when I was nine, we ran into a herd of baby deer, and I remember wanting to take one home with me so badly that I cried when my dad told me to leave them alone. His reasoning was, he would be sad if someone thought I was pretty and decided to take me home, which was really horrid now that I think about it, but I understood what he meant.”

“The photos you showed at Stevie’s wedding were cute. It’s completely how I envisioned you. I’m sure you must have given your parents one hell of a time.” He laughed.

“Not really.” I sighed. “My parents never really tried to tell me no, so I always tried to do my best around them.”

“Why?”

Putting my plate down on his coffee table, I faced him. “I’m going to tell you something sad, but please don’t worry about if I’m still hurt or anything like that. For the most part, I’m really okay.” I could tell he felt a little lost. “I’m only saying this because you fought with your brother. So when I was twelve, my brother came back from college and told my parents he didn’t feel like a guy. He said he hated looking at this person in the mirror that wasn’t him. It was killing him on the inside. He planned to become a female, and my father lost it.” I whispered that last part.

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