Seth
"This is my favorite food ever," Gabe says, taking another bite of his zapiekanka, a Polish open-faced baguette baked with mushrooms and melted cheese, finished with a squeeze of ketchup. It’s hot, savory, and comforting, and the ultimate in street food.
We've stopped to sit on a bench along Nowy ?wiat, one of Warsaw’s main historic streets linking the Old Town to the city center, the low rumble of passing traffic, distant voices, and clinking café cups filling the air.
I finish chewing and grin. "You've been saying that about everything you've tried here."
He lifts a shoulder and smiles, dimple and snaggletooth making a welcome appearance. "Can't help it if Polish food is so good. Why have you been keeping it from me all this time?"
"Because I've been an idiot," I reply, taking another bite of my warm baguette and vowing that my days of idiocy are well and truly behind me.
We're on a mid-season break, and because we're showmancing on the show, I invited Gabe to come with me to Poland to meet my family for the first time and see the work Mom and I are doing with our charity.
Riff, of course, had a conniption when he found out, but he can go fuck himself. If he wasn't donating money to the charity, I'd have told him that to his face years ago.
"How does your mom stay so slim? I swear I've stacked on ten pounds already, and it's only our third day here."
I nudge him with my shoulder. "Won't hear me complaining. You look beautiful."
Gabe takes one final giant bite, licks his fingers clean, then turns to me. "More cushion for the pushin'?"
I snort. "Something like that."
He stares into my eyes, and the city and everything in it disappears. "I love you so much."
My chest tightens, not with panic, but with something full and steady. Okay, maybe there is a little panic in the mix.
Because I'm scared. More scared than I ever have been that, despite pursuing a real relationship with Gabe being the best thing in the world, there is a chance it could fall apart. I know it's a slim chance, a very slim chance, but it's there in the back of my head, anyway.
"I love you, too."
He smiles, keeping his eyes trained on me. "You're doing well."
"You make it sound like I'm a toddler learning to walk."
"No. You're a fully grown man learning to love. That's so much harder."
"I want you to know that when I feel any sort of fear about you or us, it has nothing to do with you or us."
"It's a protective thing," he says, wiping a few stray crumbs off my lap for me. "I get that."
I'm so happy that he does. I just pray that, in time, I'll get over it because the last thing I want is for my issues to get in the way of the incredible thing we have.