Page 53 of Should Our Hearts Catch Fire

Jordan eyes him intently and throws an arm over Ellis’ shoulders. “Of course you did.” He grins. “So, lunch?”

“Lunch.”

Chapter 11

“Gabe,” Zeke sighs outhis name, probably fed up with Gabe’s moping and endless staring at the door.

Gabe can’t blame him; he’s been useless the whole week, getting orders wrong and moving at a sloth’s pace. Even his customers have noticed and been trying to cheer him up. It made him feel all kinds of guilty because that’shisjob. That’s why he ditched his psychology degree and opened a café, to actually get close to people and make their lives a little better.

He can’t afford to be a heartbroken mess. One of the downsides to his gift is that no matter how he feels, his emotions roll off him in intense waves, influencing other people. Normally that’s not a problem, since he’s the type of person to see the glass half-full, but when he gets like this… Maybe he should go home. Except he can’t leave Zeke here alone. Not that he’s much help, but still.

“I’m fine,” he says, hoping that if he repeats it enough times, it will be true. “I knew there were only two ways this could go. This is one of them.”

Zeke scowls. “He’s a dick.”

“He’s not a dick just because he’s not interested,” Gabe says tersely, feeling a strong compulsion to defend Ellis. Zeke is biased, so of course he’d bitch about Ellis to make Gabe feel better, but that’s the last thing he wants. Hegetsit, gets why Ellis never showed up.

It’s his own fault for acting so recklessly and ambushing Ellis like that. The poor guy gets skittish at the faintest display of emotion, and Gabe went and all but professed his undying love. Okay, so he just asked Ellis on a date, but he can imagine how freaked out Ellis must have been. Not to mention that Gabe is quite positive he’s never dated a man. What did he expect, really?

“Not because of that,” Zeke disagrees. “But there aren’t only two ways for this to go. He could’ve always let you down politely and kept coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, because that wouldn’t be uncomfortable for him at all,” Gabe grumbles, though he wishes for the same thing.

Despite all Zeke’s teasing, Gabe is not in love with Ellis or anything. A simple ‘no thanks’ from Ellis would’ve put him in line and made him cut down on all the flirting. He has some dignity, after all. In time, he could’ve started seeing Ellis as a mere customer and settled for making his day better with good coffee and some friendly chat. It’s a shame he’s never going to have the chance because his eagerness scared Ellis off.

Zeke slips a tea towel from his shoulder and slaps it on the counter, his face stormy. “Fuck that. Your feelings are more important that his comfort.”

Gabe huffs. “They really aren’t. You’re just biased.” Something tells him Ellis doesn’t get to bask in any type of comfort in general.

Zeke opens his mouth, but Gabe is saved from a rant by a customer walking in. Zeke narrows his eyes and ominously promises, “Later.”

Summoning some semblance of a smile, Gabe turns to the customer. The man stops in the middle of the café, gaze sweeping over the interior with curiosity.

Gabe feels a pang in his chest as he takes in the man’s appearance. He’s not wearing a full suit, but the whole attire reminds Gabe of Ellis—down to the expensive-looking slacks, shiny shoes, and a pristine white shirt (Ellis alternates between white and blue). No tie, though.

Smile firmly in place, Gabe calls, “Hey there! How are ya?”

Slowly, the man’s gaze reaches him. “Hey. I’m good.” The gaze turns appreciative when he runs it over Gabe from head to, well, his waist, which is where the counter cuts off. “Very good,” he reiterates, voice significantly lower.

Gabe tries not to groan. Normally, he’s happy to indulge in some harmless flirting, but today is so not the day. Technically, any day since he’d met Ellis has not been the day.

“What can I get you?” he asks, ignoring the obvious interest in the man’s eyes. Hopefully, he doesn’t sound annoyed. His shitty mood is not the guy’s fault.

Stepping forward, the man places his both palms on the counter, adopting a relaxed, suggestive pose.

Gabe prays hard that the man is not going to say something cheesy like ‘Your number’,or worse. He’s not sure he’d be able to keep a straight face.

“A medium flat white. One and a half pumps of hazelnut syrup.”

Well, that’s a relief, even if he always finds those particular orders amusing. At least the guy didn’t ask for a decaf half-strength abracadabra what-the-fuck-ever. Not that Gabe would judge him for it.

Okay, he totally would.

“Sure thing.” He grabs a medium sized cup and writes the order down. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” the man says simply, though he hasn’t taken his eyes off Gabe.

“Great. That will be $6.30.” He puts the order through, pointedly keeping his eyes on the iPad.