If I don’t do something soon, I’m definitely going to lose control.
“Right, uh, dinner’s nearly ready, baby. Could you set the table while I finish off the fish?”
I point out where to find the plates and cutlery, then turn quickly back to the food, forcing myself to focus. The last thing I want is to burn the salmon on our first proper evening together.
Although, if I’m honest, I feel likeI’mthe one at risk of going up in flames.
When everything’s finally ready and we sit down to eat outside, I notice he’s placed an old candle in the center of the table.
“Where did this come from?” I ask, laughing. “I didn’t even know we had one.”
“I hope I didn’t mess up,” he says, suddenly looking uncertain. “It was just sitting on a shelf and I thought… I don’t know, it might be nice.”
He groans and covers his face with both hands. “I’ve never done the whole romantic dinner thing before, I’m probably terrible at it.”
I reach out, gently pulling his hands away and offering him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Seb. I’ve never done this before either… not with a guy.”
He sits up a little straighter, surprise flickering across his face. “Is that weird for you? Does it… make you uncomfortable?”
The uncertainty in his voice tugs at something deep in my chest. I shake my head without hesitation.
“Honestly? Not at all. Being with you just feels… right. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I’ve never felt more like myself than I do when I’m with you, Seb. I hope that answers your question.”
He doesn’t speak right away, just keeps looking at me, really looking, like he’s trying to see if I mean it.
And maybe he finds his answer in my eyes, because a slow smile spreads across his face.
Then he picks up a serving spoon and starts filling his plate.
It hits me all at once, I’m starving. Between the stress, the emotions, and the long drive, this meal feels like proper comfort food. Simple, warm, exactly what we both needed.
I might not be a master chef, but Seb clearly enjoys it. I open a bottle of dry cider to go with it, and when he takes his first sip, his startled expression makes me burst out laughing. Definitely not what he was expecting, but judging by the way he goes back for more, he’s into it.
We talk easily while we eat, about everything and nothing. The food, the view, the salty breeze drifting in from the sea… but mostly, about us.
At one point, I tell him that around here, the main hobbies are fishing and surfing, but I’m hopeless at both. He smirks.
“You really are a proper nerdy teacher, aren’t you?” Then, after a pause, he adds more quietly, “My favourite nerd.”
I can’t help it, I reach across the table and take his hand, threading my fingers through his.
The warm sea air carries the scent of grass and salt. The breeze off the ocean has curled Seb’s hair more than usual, sending messy strands tumbling around his face, and God, it makes my chest ache just looking at him.
He’s not wearing any make-up tonight. No rings, no chains, no carefully chosen outfit. Just him, bare, unadorned. And yet he’s gorgeous.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his beauty
The sun set a while ago, and now the sky stretches endlessly above us, a deep velvet canvas dusted with stars. Out here, with no streetlights to dull the view, the night feels infinite, pure, breathtaking. Seb stares up at it, his expression soft and distant.
“When I was little,” he murmurs, “I used to listen to this song. I can’t remember all the lyrics, but there was a line about how we’re all made of stardust. I don’t know why, but that always comforted me. Even if it’s probably just… poetic nonsense.”
I turn toward him, a smile tugging at my lips. “Oh no,” I say gently. “There’s real science behind that.
Seb’s eyes widen, and he leans in, still holding my hand. “Seriously? I always thought that was just a poetic metaphor.”
“Not at all,” I say, smiling, grateful for the excuse to share something that matters to me. “The elements that make up our bodies, and everything around us, were born in the hearts of dying stars.”
He watches me, fascinated, nodding for me to continue.
