Gabriel and Gyan were college sweethearts, and they thought they had found the love of their lives. Then Gabriel got an opportunity in Australia, and he left behind a heartbroken Gyan.
It's been more than five years, and Gabriel finds hims...
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Enrique and I walked along the strip at the center of Shirley Heights, and we stopped for pancakes. We found a booth near the back to sit in the small diner. Enrique ordered Pepsi while I got a glass of water.
Enrique smiled. "I'm glad you agreed to come."
"I'm glad I came, too."
There was still a part of me that felt guilty. Gyan and I seemed to be doing great. We weren't arguing, and I felt closer to him, but I couldn't shake off the dissatisfaction I felt. Something was missing, and I knew what it was, so I didn't know how long I could ignore it.
"What do you want?" Enrique asked as we skimmed the menu.
One thing caught my eyes. "They have tres leches pancakes?"
"Where?" Enrique looked for it. "Wow." He looked up at me. "Wanna try it?"
"Yeah," I said. "I love tres leches."
This place had very interesting pancakes. They had birthday cake. They had cheesecake and so much more.
"Let's buy one to share," Enrique said.
"You don't want your own?"
"These look humongous," he said. "I think one will be good enough for the both of us."
I arched a brow. "I'm pretty hungry."
He planted his elbows on the table. "How about this. We order one to share, and if it's not enough, we'll get another one."
"Do you just wanna share with me?"
He hid his smile. "Maybe." I shook my head in amusement. "Let's order."
The waitress approached us, and we ordered our food. When she left, I focused on Enrique.
"If they had horchata, it would have been perfect," he said.
"You like horchata?"
"I love it," he said. "There's a Mexican restaurant near Shirley Town Center. I'm going to take you there one day."
"Is it authentic?"
He thought about it for a second. "I say it's okay. More authentic than most. Honestly, Mexican cuisine is amazing. I wish people knew more than just tacos and burritos."
"At least they eat some Mexican cuisine," I reminded him. "There are a lot of foods from other cultures that Americans miss out on."
"That's true," he said. "Most Americans don't know about a lot of Eastern European meals. Or sub-Saharan African meals that aren't Ethiopian."
I swirled the straw in my water. "I have to ask. How do you identify?"
"I'm bi," he said. "But I lean more towards guys. It's a little tough, though. A lot of gay guys are bi-phobic."
