I try to drown out my spiraling thoughts against the roar of tires on asphalt until I’m barely aware of his presence on the other end of the line.
“Are you still there?” Gabe tries to stifle a yawn.
“Yeah, I’m here. You didn’t have to call. You could’ve texted me whatever you wanted to say.”
“Texting is so impersonal. I wanted to hear your voice, not read letters on a screen.”
He pauses, but when the seconds begin to tick by with no response from me, he realizes the ball is in his court.
“Are you in the car? Should I not have called?”
“Yes, I’m in the car, and no, it’s fine you called. I was just driving around listening to music. Had to pick up dinner.” Assoon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret mentioning dinner.
“What did you wind up eating?”
“I wasn’t really that hungry, so I just picked up a snack.”
“Why does that sound like you don’t want to tell me what you ate?” I swear I can hear the frown on his face.
“Because I have a weird comfort food that everyone gives me shit about.”
Gabe is silent—probably waiting for me to elaborate—but I’m not about to tell him any more of my oddities. “You know you have to tell me now, right?” Geez, he’s like Connor, a dog with a bone—he’s not giving up easily. “So just get it over with and spill the beans.”
I don’t laugh often—it’s just how I am—but the unintended pun draws a snort of laughter out of me, confusing Gabe.
“What did I say?” His soft chuckle is a stark contrast to his typical deep tone.
“You accidentally guessed my comfort food.” I get out of my car and head into my building as he ponders over my words.
“Your comfort food is beans? Like what kind of beans? Black beans? Pinto beans? Lima beans? Green beans?” His amusement is clear as he rambles about all the types of beans I’m definitely not obsessed with. I can’t help the way my lips turn upward in a smile. Until I get in the elevator and lose his call mid-sentence, cursing myself for not taking the stairs the mere one flight up.
I dial his number as soon as I exit the elevator and head down the hallway.
“Which bean offended you? It was the lima beans, wasn’t it?”
The sound of my laughter bounces off the hallway walls until I remember the time, quickly stifling it before the neighbors start to complain.
“Wow, nice to hear you really laugh for the first time. I’d love to see the smile that came along with it.”
Before I could second-guess my first thought, I hit the video call button. He picks up on the first ring, his own smile stretching from ear to ear.
“Two blessings within minutes. I feel honored.”
“Don’t speak too soon—you may regret it and hangup in a minute.” I nervously huff at myself for the negative talk, opening my apartment door without taking my eyes off him.
He doesn’t respond, just stares at me with those cobalts again. It makes me feel like he sees right through me—right through this barrier I’ve built to keep people out, so they don’t hate what they find and wind up leaving anyway.
“Hi, Ender.”
That doesn’t help at all.
“Hi, Gabe,” I say softly, as I slide down onto the couch, propping the phone up against a pillow on my stomach when I lie down. I’m thankful Connor isn’t home yet.
“So, which bean owns this obsession of yours?”
Instead of telling him, I fish one of the candies out of the bag by my side to show him.
“Jelly beans? That’s what you ate for dinner?” His mildly shocked expression and incredulous tone should make me worry, but I’m used to it. Eating candy more often than not for my meals isn’t something that sounds normal to most people, but it’s easier than cooking for myself—and the comfort I get from it is worth more to me than nutrition. Probably.
