bittersweet green apples, rejection, and the mediocre life of a human

Chapter 2

I couldn't decide whether the Ravioli was the best thing I had ever tasted, or whether that title belonged to the Penne. Either way, I wasn't sure my stomach was going to be alright by the time I was done ballooning it with more food than it should have ever attempted to hold. Kyle had wolfed down both his lamb and the chicken, and still unapologetically put away the pasta I hadn't been able to finish, and even managed a little bit of our salad that he'd sheepishly admitted tasted pretty amazing, despite the presence of kale offending him. And he'd still had room for dessert.

All in all, it was probably the best meal of my life.

To be honest, we could have eaten out of a dumpster, instead of the small, cozy, wooden paneled room, and it still would have been the best meal of my life - and our evening wasn't even over yet. Our dinner had been accented by an elegant pattering on the sidewalk outside as an evening shower rolled across the city lackadaisically. Finally, now that the world's best meal had been crammed into every crevice inside me, and we'd broken the awkward barrier that had come between us, we were left with a comfortable silence.

My eyes flicked around the mostly-empty restaurant, only partially to appreciate the sheer amount of famous and important people that had posed in this small dining room, making their presence known from their ornate frames. Rao's had a cute retro aesthetic with scarlet accents, but no one came here for the decor. To be honest, I had to force myself to even glance around the room, because I'd just spent nearly ten minutes straight staring into the iridescent crimson of Kyle's eyes. If I spent a century staring into them, it still wouldn't constitute half the time I'd need to map out the glints and shimmers from the red rings circling the inky windows to his soul. I hadn't surprised myself at all with my ability to look endlessly at the living beauty in front of me, but what had surprised me was that Kyle seemed content to look straight back, as if he was feeling the same rapture I was.

Finally, Kyle brought a curtain to our sunny silence, and asked if I was ready to leave. I really wasn't, but found myself taking his outstretched hand to help me to my feet, smiling a little when Mr. Pellegrino waved to us on our way out and demanded a future second visit. I was hypnotized temporarily by the sidewalk, rippling with the smattering of rain pelting the surface. Quite unfortunately, Kyle let go of my hand, in order to place it in front of my chest, and asked me to "hang on a second." I obliged, but the disappointment was visible in my eyes - I loved the rain, and rain was much more of a special occasion here. A walk in the rain would have been the perfect end to an evening full of magic, but Kyle flashed toward his car with inhuman speed, retrieving an umbrella and apparating at my side again, sending a shiver down my spine after an involuntary thought of the apex predator behind the smile.

But that same 'apex predator' was now opening an umbrella in front of me like a perfect gentleman. I stepped close to him under the umbrella, despite my reservations about both the lack of rain under the umbrella and Kyle himself. Strolling through the downpour, feeling the revitalizing spray, and watching the muted, wet lights was so appealing I surprised myself and put my hand over his on the umbrella and quietly requested, "Would you mind going for a walk in the rain?"

Kyle's head whipped around to examine me as if I was growing a second head, and I was greatly taken aback. I wasn't sure how that innocent question could cause offense, but I still braced myself... for a soft exhale as he marveled, "I keep forgetting how fantastically... accurate a soul mate is."

"Is that a yes?" I grinned up at him and deftly stepped out from the cover of the umbrella into the rain.

"It's a fuck yes," he matched my grin and pulled the umbrella shut, shaking the water off onto the sidewalk and tossing it back into the car. Kyle walked back toward me, seeming hesitant, and staring at my hand like it was the last cookie in the jar. Caving in like an old, tired bridge, I offered him my hand and I could nearly imagine his tail wagging from the way his features perked. Carefully, as though I was a fragile, rare, and precious treasure, he placed his massive palm on top of mine, dwarfing it, and curled his fingers in between each of mine, winding them together. His hand was warm and rough with calluses, but surprisingly gentle, and when he wound his arm around mine I felt incredibly sunny inside despite the cool night rain.