Page 73 of Bad at Love

“You ready for this?” Storm asks, gripping the door handle to the restaurant we’re meeting his friends at.

“Do I have a choice?” I say, meaning for it to be a joke. You know, settle the tension? Isn’t that what people do?

Storm frowns, lets go of the handle and grabs my upper arm, pulling me away from the door to stop by a bench. It isn’t rough, not in any way.

“You always have a choice with me. No matter what it is. If it’s something you don’t want to do, just say it and that’s that. I will not force you.”

Now I frown, unsure if he means about this or something else. You know, since people like to allude to things. Can we just say what we mean, people? Life would be so much easier.

“I appreciate that, but we already established that communication was important, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Do you think I’m incapable of communicating my feelings?” I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“Incapable? No.” He gives a shake of his head. “But you said yourself it’s difficult and I’m just trying to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“You’d know if I weren’t, just maybe not verbally. Is that a problem?”

“No, but that just meansIam going to communicate verbally to make sure I’m reading your cues correctly.”

I nod, not seeing any issue with that. “Fair.”

“So we’re good to go inside?”

The genuine way in which he’s looking at me tells me all I need to know. Though he’s sometimes too loud, too messy, and a list of other things that make my skin itch, he is kind and thoughtful and caring. He’s a good person.

“We’re good to go inside.”

He moves to walk toward the door, but I stop him by putting my arm out. He looks at my outstretched arm, then up at me. I bring my hand toward his, spreading my fingers.

“Is this okay?” I ask, my heart pounding a little harder. We did not talk about this, but not all communication needs to be words, right?

His smile is genuine as he takes my hand. “Absolutely.”

We walk into the restaurant, hand in hand, and find his friends sitting at a table way in the back. I take them in as we walk toward them. They’re both masculine guys, both look like they work out often. One is bigger than the other, much more defined. His maroon t-shirt is tight across his wide chest, his arms bulging out of the sleeves. The other one is wearing a light blue t-shirt, fits him well but is a little loose. Neither of them looks mean, but one does seem a little fed up with the other. In a playful way, I guess. They’re going to get married in a few hours, so hopefully they don’t actually hate one another.

“Hey, guys,” Storm says as we reach the table, cutting the one in the blue shirt off from what he was saying to the other.

“Storm!” The big one gets up, smiling brightly and pulling Storm into a hug. He turns to me, giving me a knowing grin. “You must be Gabriel.”

I appreciate Storm introducing me as Gabriel and not Gabe. Though the nickname from him and him only is starting to grow on me. I won’t tell him that, though.

“That’s right,” I answer, as he moves to the side.

He rests his hand on my shoulder, putting the other on his chest. “I’m Dominic.” He points to the guy in the blue shirt, who is watching us. “This is my soon to be but not soon enough husband, Mikah.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” he says with a wave.

“Nice to meet you too,” I respond, smiling.

“Hey, Storm,” Mikah then says.

“Mikah,” is his response, along with a smile.

“Sit, sit.” Dominic gestures to the table as he goes back to his chair. They’re across from one another, so I can take either seat. I glance at Storm, and he gives me a look that tells me I should pick first. Something tells me my safe bet is sitting next to Mikah. Dominic already gives off touchy-feely vibes, and though it was okay when he did it just now, I can see it getting bothersome after a while.

Storm takes the seat opposite me, and Dominic puts his arm around him, giving him a shake. “It’s been too long. How are you doing? How’s your mom?”

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