You had come in like rose petals in the wind—which is to say, the cheesiest thing he’s quite possible ever thought of, but a man with a penchant for rom-coms and all things ‘sugar, spice, and everything nice’ is bound to make it his whole personality.

Even now, in the middle of a date, with what Gary calls the most breathtaking person he’s ever seen, it’s hard to think straight, terrible for his reputation on having the best poker face. He’s watching your mouth move and he knows you’re strangers, knows you just met, but you’re kissable in the way statues are to be admired: wholly, purely, maddeningly. It’s a bit of a crime he doesn’t have your lip prints tattooed onto skin, doesn’t yet have your fingerprints found on his bones when he turns to dust.

“No, no, ‘m listening—“ His accent comes smooth and rich, and he leans his chin onto his palm, world zeroed in onto the slant to your mouth: he’s attentive like that. Gary likes knowing whoever he’s looking at becomes the center of his universe, if just for one minute, or ten… or twenty. He’s actually not sure how longs it’s been—he just knows it’s been too long to count and he’s long past forgotten his numbers.

He musters a low laugh, a bit sheepish, a sip of the water he’d been served—the food is taking ages. He doesn’t mind. It keeps you talking, it keeps you here, and maybe he’s a bit dopey about it. Doesn’t matter, god, he hopes you were the right date, the right person in the maybe-right-praying-it’s-never-wrong type of time.

After all that complicated bullshit of pampering himself to look nice and still getting the numbers mixed up for the text, he prays you’re the one meant to be here.

“Tell me again,” Gary’s lips pull into a smile, tongue darting over them to wet them as he gives a slight and quick distracted nod, eyes trailing over every inch of you he can see across from him, taking you in like an astronomer to an undiscovered star.

“You can even quiz me on it this time,” He crosses a finger over his chest: cross my heart. “I swear.”