Circles ━ Evan Buckley

008: LOVE FEELS LIKE A RODEO

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOVE FEELS LIKE A RODEO
song of the chapter: training season, dua lipa

Indiana is dreaming.

That is the only explanation for the sight in front of her, honestly. It feels like a mirage, like it might disappear if she blinks too hard. She reaches for the water glass on the table and expects it to melt under her touch, but the glass is firm in her grip and the condensation coats her fingers like a bandaid.

OK, so this isn't a dream. Cool. That is totally fine.

Then why the hell does Indiana feel like she's been to heaven and back?

They are at Yoko's, a family run cafe about thirty minutes from where they usually reside. It's somewhat of a journey for a cup of coffee, especially when you consider the fact that there's four coffee shops on every street you turn onto in Los Angeles, but none of them are Yoko's.

The acacia wood seating outside, canopied underneath the sun umbrellas, made of tinted plastic and painted with small patterns- like stained glass, with the way it reflects onto the light brown of the table when the light hits it just right. Hints of red and yellow dance across Buck's face, painting his complexion into a work of art worthy of Van Goth.

"Jesus christ," Buck groans, gasping for air after a long gulp, his nose scrunched in disgust. "What do they put in these? I feel like I've been resurrected from the dead, and I'd like to go back."

Indiana laughs, "It's a wellness shot, Buck. It isn't supposed to taste good."

Buck shakes his head, smacking his lips together, "Nothing that's good for you ever tastes good."

"Yet, you eat it anyway," Indiana states, gesturing her hand to the small pile of greens on Buck's plate. "Except for cilantro, apparently."

"Tastes like soap," Buck replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, if I didn't eat the things that are good for me, I wouldn't have these."

He flexes his arms at her, raising an eyebrow, and presses a kiss to each of his pecs. Indiana scoffs, reaching over the table to smack his arm gently. "Put them away, I'm eating."

A grin takes place on his face as the smouldering look he was directing at her before disappears, "What, not enjoying the show?"

Indiana swallows her bite, waving her fork in protest, "Save it for another time, maybe when I'm not halfway through my lunch."

With a heavy sigh, Buck lowers his arms and sets his gaze on Indiana, studious, his lips pursed like he can't decide whether he wants to speak or not. Eventually, he says, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Always," Indiana replies, because it's the truth. Full transparency- that's what the agreed upon. "Hit me with it." Buck sits in silence for a moment longer, pondering his thoughts, as if he's trying to figure out how to phrase his words. Indiana sighs, "You won't offend me, Buck. Ask the question."

Indiana knows what it's going to be before the words have left his mouth, because there's only a few select things he could ask. He could ask her how her bagel was, but the few crumbs left on her plate answer that question for him. He might ask if she's told anyone about them 'dating', but they both agreed that they would discuss that before they went spreading the news.

So, there's only one option, really. They need to discuss the elephant in the room eventually- no time better than the present, Indiana guesses.

"Is Hugo still in love with you?" He says, with a slight edge to his tone. The frown is gone from his lips, now, and a grimace greets Indiana as she stares at him blankly. "Like, I know you're over him, but you said he was getting married."