Kit gave him a droll look. “Don’t lie to me. It’s awful and cliché, but this is how it came.”
“You’re renting, right?” Quin asked, seating himself on the sofa. Kit was wearing a track between the TV and the kitchen sink, so he figured he’d just sit down and let Kit do what he wanted.
“Mm-hmm.” Kit was still moving.
“Are you planning to buy at any point?” Quin wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to talk about the property market, but most people seemed to enjoy the opportunity to complain about it if given the chance, so he decided it was a safe topic for conversation.
Kit stopped pacing and looked at Quin properly for the first time that night, homing in on what he held in his hand. “Why are you carrying a cactus?”
Quin smiled. “It’s for you.”
Kit eyed the tiny cactus in its equally tiny grey pot as if it might jump at him. “Why?”
Quin held it towards Kit. “It’s customary to provide a gift when you’re invited into someone’s home. It’s not like I can bring you a bottle of wine.”
“But why a cactus?” Kit still hadn’t made a move to take the pot, but Quin kept holding it out in hope.
“I didn’t think flowers were your thing, given your reaction to that bunch I got you before. But a cactus is hardy and doesn’t require too much water.”
Kit edged towards him. “I’ve never had a cactus before.”
Quin didn’t breathe as Kit took the plant from him, their fingers brushing. Quin felt his face warm in embarrassment at the contrast between his thick, clumsy digits and Kit’s small, delicate ones. Kit held the cactus with care as he took it and placed it on the windowsill.
“I’ll keep the curtains open during the day so it doesn’t die,” Kit said, though it was more of a remark to himself than to Quin. Quin didn’t mind. He was just glad Kit had accepted the present. It meant he could get him something even better next time.
Kit spent a few more moments contemplating the placement of the cactus, moving it this way and that until he seemed content. He turned back to Quin. “Thank you.”
Quin scratched his beard. “It’s my pleasure.”
Kit nodded, then glanced towards the kitchen. “Oh!” he said. Quin whipped his head to follow Kit as he blurred to stand by the countertop. He pointed at the bright red electric kettle. “I got that delivered yesterday, especially for your tea.”
Quin felt a flare of guilt pass through him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you out.”
Kit waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. Now, what kind of tea would you like?”
“What have you got?”
Kit cracked open a cupboard, not allowing Quin to see inside. “If you tell me your favourite, I can see if I have it.”
“I’m happy with anything from a builder’s brew to a chai latte,” Quin said, hoping that being less picky would be helpful.
Kit’s head rolled back in obvious frustration. “Well, which is it?”
“Um. What about Earl Grey?”
Kit craned his neck around and gave him a withering look. “Those are three distinct options.”
“If you just tell me what you’ve got, then?—”
“Fine!” Kit threw open the cabinet with such force that Quin was concerned it would fly off its hinges. “There. Which one.”
Quin gaped at the inside of the cupboard, which contained no fewer than thirty types of tea. He spotted the old classics like chamomile, peppermint, and English Breakfast, and flavours he was less familiar with, like rooibos, matcha, and turmeric.
Kit leaned against the counter, arms hugging his waist. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”
He didn’t like seeing Kit looking so self-conscious, but Quin couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his face. “So you cleaned out the entire Co-op for me?”
“I only got one of each,” Kit said defensively, then seemed to realise Quin was joking. “Couldn’t risk not having your favourite,” he added.
