Me: Breakfast cupcakes.
Rhys: What?
Beckett turned the oven light on and sent Rhys a picture.
Rhys: I didn’t know you liked to bake.
Me: It’s just to pass the time. Cooking is better.
Rhys: Will you cook for me?
Me: When?
Beckett frowned at his fridge, knowing full well how much of nothing was inside of it.
Rhys: Anytime.
Me: I don’t have anything here.
Rhys: Make a list. I’ll get it and you can come over. Use my kitchen.
It was hard to say no to that barely used Viking Range in Rhys’s kitchen. And even if Rhys was buying the ingredients, it was just food. It wasn’t an unreasonable financial splurge.
Me: Okay.
Rhys: Dinner tonight?
Me: I have to work tomorrow morning.
Rhys: I’ll have you in bed by curfew, I promise.
Me: That’s almost disappointing ;)
Rhys: Is that a yes?
Me: It’s a yes.
Rhys: Do you need a ride?
Me: I have a car. I’ll come by tonight. Around 5?
Rhys: I’m here all day. I have a meeting around lunch, but you can come anytime after that.
Me: I’ll let you know.
Rhys: Text me a shopping list. I’ll get it delivered.
Me: Of course you will.
Beckett grabbed his lukewarm coffee, threw some ice in it to cool it down because cold coffee was better than coffee that used to be hot, and he went into the living room. He settled onto his couch, stretching out his legs and pulling up his favorite recipe website on his phone to get some inspiration for dinner. He poked at the ice cubes in his mug with his tongue, then settled on a recipe for French onion chicken. He assumed Rhys had a cast iron skillet because it was exactly the kind of expensive thing he would have, even without needing it.
He sent Rhys the list and finished his coffee. He ate two breakfast cupcakes. He showered, got dressed, ate two more. He was bored and out of ways to kill time. He could have watched a movie or two, but nothing could hold his attention the way that open-ended invitation to spend time with Rhys did. And it was fine, it was okay. They were new to a relationship with each other and it made perfect sense that they would want to spend time together.
So he whipped up a small bowl of frosting, iced half a dozen cupcakes and arranged them on a plate. He texted Rhys to let him know he was coming, and drove across town to the expensive building where Rhys’s condo was. He knew that it was actually Sebastian’s place, and that amused him to no end, because for as much as nothing there felt like Rhys, it definitely didn’t feel like Sebastian either. At least, not what he’d seen of him the few times they’d met.
Beckett carried the small plate of cupcakes carefully up to Rhys’s front door, fighting back unwanted feelings of silliness. Who brought cupcakes to their brand new boyfriend’s house in the middle of the day? But before he could do anything, the door swung open.
Rhys was dressed as he always was.
