“Nothing, uh… my eyes were just watering from the ride.”
He nods, and I know he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go. Smart man.
“How come we stopped?” I ask.
“Thought we could get some lunch, come on.”
He leads me inside and I’m instantly overwhelmed by the smell of freshly cooked seafood. The restaurant is packed; long tables with benches on either side are full of people, each with piles of seafood on the table in front of them. I’ve always wanted to try a restaurant like this but never knew there was one so close to home.
“This okay?” Angel asks, and I nod in response.
A server leads us to an empty spot on one of the benches, so we’re sitting opposite each other but with people on both sides of us, their conversations carrying from all around.
“Are you happy for me to order?” he asks through the noise, and I nod again.
I can’t even hear his conversation with the server, so I take my time looking around. The restaurant is basically a wooden shack that has been added to over the years; none of the wood matches and the walls are all slightly different sizes. Paint peels behind the many photo frames, showing people holding fish or crab cages, ranging from grainy black and white newspaper clippings to recent color photos.
Half the people here look like they’re locals, but the fact that no one blinked an eye at us when we entered, and the different clothing styles, show that half probably aren’t local. I don’t imagine this is the type of place that’s featured on tourist websites or talked about in restaurant reviewmagazines, but for those in the know, it’s likely famous, with people traveling from all over to eat here.
Two bottles of ginger ale are unceremoniously placed in front of us, bringing my attention back to Angel.
“Have you been here before?” I ask, needing to lean in so he can hear me.
“Yeah, not recently though,” he says, “are you sure it’s okay?”
He looks nervous, glancing around at the people and the walls, perhaps seeing it through my eyes for the first time. Considering he’s always thought of me as a snobby princess he probably thinks that I hate it.
“Yes,” I say, “I love it, I’ve always wanted to eat somewhere like this.”
He visibly relaxes, and I’m about to ask him who he came here with, when we’re interrupted by a large bucket of cooked seafood being spilled onto newspaper in front of us.
“Holy shit!” I giggle, and he laughs at me.
It’s the best seafood I’ve ever tasted; cooked and seasoned to perfection. I’m not a precious eater, and definitely don’t mind getting stuck in, my hands messy with the juices and an impressive pile of empty shells building up next to me.
We don’t need to talk, every now and again our eyes meet across the table, and we laugh or smile. Spending time with him is so much easier than I ever imagined it could be. After isolating myself for so long, it’s hard to let people in, let them see me like this, but for some reason it doesn’t seem scary withhim.
“You wanna hang out here a bit more?” he asks, “or shall we head back.”
“We can walk, let our food go down. Also, I love piers, so we definitely need to wander down the pier.”
“Sounds good.”
He takes my hand in his and we walk side by side. I don’t remember the last time I held hands with a guy like this. I mean, Angel’s grabbed my hand to lead me places, but just to walk along holding hands, even thinking about it causes a nervous giggle.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing, it’s stupid.”
“Come on, tell me.”
I sigh. “After everything that’s happened between us—at Platinum, in my apartment, this weekend in the shower—I’m getting nervous holding your hand. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” He stops walking and pulls me to him. “I’ve never held someone’s hand like this.”
“You haven’t?”
He shakes his head and smiles. “No, but I like it.”
