The Break Up Plan (BoyxBoy)

PDA

I was wearing a tie for the first time in two years and still felt underdressed. Less than two minutes inside and my guilt about sending Stephanie here tripled. She wasn't just left alone in a swanky restaurant. She'd been rejected while surrounded by rich people. And there's no way she hadn't dressed to the nines to come. A restaurant this bougie deserved nothing less.

"This place looks amazing," James whispered as he picked up the menu.

This guy is the one who brought me. Trust, I never would have signed up for these menu prices myself. But James insisted he'd pay for us both. If I didn't already know he was interested in me, that declaration would have confirmed it.

"I'm so glad you changed your mind."

"Me too," I smiled. It was a bit forced but that was only because this restaurant made me feel distinctly poor. Calvin's Bistro. An unassuming name for a Gordan Ramsey wannabe. The gray mush steaming on nearby plates could never compare to Ramsey's signature risotto. I tried to keep my poverty-sourced critiques to myself, though.

Because James looked right at home. And he was also footing the bill.

The last few days have been tense since Rin is–rightfully–upset with me. They've also been awkward because we were still eating lunch together and trying to pretend that stuff was normal. Like us always sitting on opposite sides of the table was normal. Like our aversion to locking eyes was normal.

Only Stephanie was unaware of the tension. She had no problem trying to pull Rin and I into conversations at the same time. Even if, in the midst of those conversations, we still pretended like our ex-best friend doesn't exist.

Yeah, tense and awkward was a good way of putting it.

This date was a welcome break. A chance to dress up in clothes that had to be ironed and eat foods that were both western and hard to pronounce.

"You look incredible by the way," he added, smiling behind his hand.

It was also a way for me to enjoy some healthy flirting with James. He'd already been a bit flirtier after our almost date. I guess since we both knew how he felt about me, there wasn't as much of a need for pretenses.

In a way, I'm not surprised he complimented me. I was wearing a deep gray suit and tie–my one and only suit for any formal occasion. I'd also used curl defining cream in my hair today, so the boys looked extra voluptuous.

At the same time, my soul didn't feel worthy of this fine establishment. So hearing James say that set my cheeks aflame.

"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself," I grinned, throwing out the classic line.

James reached his right hand across the table, his raised brow indicating that he wanted me to hold it. Unlike the last time we'd gone out like this, I wasn't conflicted about what I wanted to do. It was easy to reach out and interlock our fingers.

Most of our date passed by with us repeating that easy, simple pattern. Talk about the restaurant, talk about each other, silence. I liked how the silence didn't last very long. And how James never shied away from expressing how much he liked me.

He was bold to the point of being aggressive–but in a good way. I was sporting a near constant blush and became aware of a mole on my chin I didn't previously know existed, but I liked the new discovery. Being around him felt good.

My understanding of queer culture was limited to TikToks and sassy best friends on TV. But from what I gathered, gay guys were known for being more forward. Maybe that's why James kept kissing the inside of my wrist. That, or British people are just intensely romantic.