Chapter 2 #10
“Sounds good, I’ll have the same,” Adrian replied easily, setting his own menu aside, though he hadn’t really looked at it.
The truth was, he would have ordered anything Logan chose.
His focus wasn’t on the food, not really.
It kept slipping back to Logan, to the way the ocean breeze lifted the collar of his shirt, to the way the dim candlelight carved soft gold into the strong lines of his face.
Logan, for his part, was now eyeing the small candle flickering between them, housed in a simple glass cup.
Without warning, Logan reached across and pinched the flame dead between his fingers.
Adrian’s hand flew to his mouth, stifling a laugh that spilled over in bursts.
He shook, barely breathing from laughter, the absurdity of the gesture catching him off guard.
“What?” Logan asked, his brows drawing together in mock confusion, though a smile tugged insistently at his lips.
“You—” Adrian gasped between laughs, wiping at his eyes as if it would somehow stop the tidal wave of joy rolling through him. “You couldn’t leave the candle alone, could you?”
Logan’s half-smile finally broke into full laughter, deep and rough and entirely contagious.
They leaned into it, the two of them caught in a shared, fleeting weightlessness, the kind of laughter that felt as if it had been waiting for them all night, tucked in the folds of the dark, waiting for the right moment to unfold.
“Fuck you,” Logan smirked, pointing across the table at Adrian, who only laughed harder.
As their laughter faded, leaving a faint warm glow in its wake, Adrian’s gaze settled on the man across from him, a stranger yet so oddly familiar. He knew almost nothing about him, yet the pull was undeniable.
“So, what do you do for a living?” Adrian asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
“Nothing.” Logan shrugged, an easy roll of his eyes and a smirk playing at his lips. “Just graduated with my master’s… what, two days ago? Lost track of time.” He rubbed his neck absently. “Anyway, I graduated, packed a bag, and now… well, now I’m here.”
Adrian leaned forward, intrigued. “Just like that? No plans, no deadlines?”
“Yup.” Logan exhaled, eyes drifting past Adrian, as though seeing the open road.
“I worked a bit through undergrad and grad school, but nothing serious. I had a job lined up… but I kind of ran away from it.” A faint shadow crossed his face, like the brush of a cloud against the sun. “Guess it can wait.”
“What did you study?”
“Business administration and economics.”
Adrian’s eyebrows lifted. “Wow, that sounds—”
“Boring?” Logan cut in, a sly smile tugging at his mouth.
“Actually, I was going to say challenging.” Adrian chuckled. “Did you enjoy it?”
Logan shrugged, the easy grin slipping into something a little wryer.
“Not really. College was alright, but business?” He rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Econ was fine, I guess. But it was hard to care about supply and demand curves when all I really wanted was to be by the ocean.” He grinned then, the boyish light returning to his eyes.
“I get that,” Adrian replied, grinning back. “But somehow, I can picture you as the math type.”
“Ugh, no way.” Logan threw his head back, groaning with mock agony. “Three classes of math were all it took. I swear, I almost tried bribing my professors just to survive. But chemistry was the real nightmare. I stared at my professor so blankly that she thought I was having a stroke.”
Adrian laughed, the sound rich, filling the air between them.
He watched Logan talk, every gesture animated, his bright smile radiating.
It sent a quiet thrill through Adrian’s chest, one he couldn’t explain.
He felt it deep, the kind of stirring that crept in when least expected, the kind that lingered.
Logan’s voice softened, and he looked at Adrian with a spark that felt like a secret shared. “But hey, at least marketing and trading, stocks… they made sense. Sort of.”
Adrian nodded, though he hardly heard the words, his thoughts swirling, caught in the rare, perfect alchemy of this moment. The restaurant faded into a blur, leaving only the two of them at that little table, framed by the hum of the sea beyond.
The waitress arrived, setting their plates down with a clink and a flourish, the scents of char-fried fish and crispy fries enveloping them. They dug in, speaking here and there, casual exchanges drifting across the table like leaves caught in a gentle current.
When Logan excused himself to the restroom, Adrian watched him go, feeling a slight hollow where Logan’s presence had been. He called the waitress over. “Excuse me,” he murmured, a half-smile at his lips. “Do you happen to have a lighter?”
“Of course,” she replied, reaching into her pocket and handing him a small silver lighter.
Adrian flicked it, the tiny flame dancing to life.
He leaned forward, lighting the candle that sat between them, feeling a flicker of his own satisfaction as the soft light settled over the table once more.
He returned the lighter, exchanging a quick word of thanks as she cleared their empty plates.
Moments later, Logan returned, pausing ever so slightly when his gaze fell on the candle, its flame casting a golden halo that seemed to draw his attention. He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“The waitress came over and saw that the candle was off,” Adrian explained, the words smooth but laced with mischief. “So, she thought she’d light it again.”
Logan narrowed his eyes, suspicion flashing behind the growing grin he couldn’t quite suppress. He shook his head, laughter bubbling under his words. “You’re full of shit,” he muttered, the tenderness in his voice undeniable.
He leaned back in his chair, studying Adrian with a look that made the small flame between them feel somehow brighter, as if it fed on the gravity building quietly across the table.
“For dessert,” Logan said, flashing an easy, mischievous smile, “what are we having?”
Adrian matched his grin, the playfulness lighting up his face. “I still haven’t tried anything from the desserts, actually,” he admitted.
“Well, then we have to,” Logan said firmly, flipping the menu back open and scanning the options with theatrical seriousness. His eyes caught on something, and he looked up, triumphant. “Chocolate haupia pie. That’s it,” he declared.
Adrian laughed, the sound low and genuine, and gave a small nod of agreement. “Chocolate haupia pie, it is.”
As they stepped out into the cool night air, Adrian sighed, a hand on his stomach. “I’m going to sleep for a week after that meal.”
Logan chuckled, his voice rolling against the crisp breeze. “Oh, come on. I bet you’ll burn it off by morning.”
“Only if I can walk by morning,” Adrian groaned, glancing at Logan with a grin.
They ambled back toward Logan’s resort, taking the longer way back, each step a little slower, savoring the night that lingered between them.
His stomach still full, Adrian couldn’t help but think back to their half-playful, half-serious argument when the check arrived—how Logan had stubbornly insisted on paying, his voice unwavering, saying it was only fair since he’d invited him.
He remembered the look in Logan’s eyes, unexpected and impossibly direct, a look Adrian had no defense against, not tonight, not when everything between them was still so new.
It caught him off guard and left him unable to argue.
Adrian sensed, maybe Logan did too, how quickly he could be pulled under that soft, intent gaze Logan seemed to slip into without even noticing.
“Thanks for tonight,” Adrian said softly as they reached Logan’s cabin.
The air was still, weighted, as though something more should follow, something to keep the night from closing.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Adrian slipped a hand into the pocket of his shorts and pulled something free. “This is for you.”
He pressed a new board leash into Logan’s hands. He had meant to give it earlier, back at the bar, but the moment he sat across from him, his mind had emptied. The words he’d rehearsed scattered like sand, and all he could do was watch Logan speak, as though under some spell.
Logan’s eyes moved from the leash to Adrian’s face, dumbfounded, his breath caught somewhere between them.
“Yours… it broke? Or tore?” Adrian frowned, searching for the word. “I don’t know the right word. But I got you this.”
The leash felt heavier than it should have in Logan’s palm.
“Thank you,” Logan murmured. “You really didn’t have to.”
“It’s nothing.” Adrian shrugged, too quick, almost embarrassed. “There are many surf stores here, but not all good ones. Didn’t want you buying something bad.” His smile wavered, a shy, uncertain curve of the mouth.
Logan tightened his grip around the leash, as though holding onto something more than cord and rubber. He dragged a hand through his hair, restless, clumsy, trying to scrape together the courage that stalled in his throat.
“Thank you.” He said again.
Silence settled between them, taut and uncertain, neither of them sure how to step into the next breath.
Logan’s throat worked, a rough sound breaking free as he scraped against the edges of his own fear.
His body leaned forward, then stilled, caught between retreat and confession.
For a heartbeat, it seemed he would let the moment collapse, that he would simply nod, turn, and vanish into the night, just as the world had trained him to do.
But something in him—something small and scared and breaking open—made him stumble forward: “So, um… will I… see you around tomorrow? At the beach, maybe? Or whatever,” he added quickly, tossing the words out like loose change, pretending he didn’t care even as they scraped his throat on the way out.
He was aiming for casual, for breezy, for harmless. He missed by a mile.