Robin des Bois ✓

twenty-six. Better Served Cold

I almost let myself believe that.

"The trick is to not overmix the batter," he pointed out, stirring it delicately. "It doesn't matter if there are some lumps of flour left." He poured the batter onto the sizzling butter on the pan, and, after a while, flipped the pancake onto its other side with the ease of a chef.

Another moment passed, and then he dropped the perfectly golden pancake onto a plate, cut of a small chunk of it, speared it with a fork and brought it to my lips.

I tried not to overthink every single one of his gestures, but it was hard when he was acting so sweet –making me breakfast, sharing his recipes, smiling that rare genuine grin of his.

I let the pancake dissolve on my tongue and closed my eyes, suddenly transported to our own small kitchen, sitting at our round wooden table on a cloudy, moody Sunday morning, my mother at the stove, the scent of chocolate chip pancakes wafting in the air. My eyes filled with tears –yet I wasn't sad, not exactly. I was filled with longing for that time, so much simpler, so filled with the best kind of happiness –the one you are unaware of until it's slips from between your fingers and you can only wish you'd enjoyed it more, held on a little bit tighter.

I opened my eyes and found Gabriel watching me with a slightly wary expression. "You ok? I know my pancakes are good, but it looked like you were having an out of body experience right there," he waved his fork in my direction.

"I'm good," I said with a half-hearted smile. "I'm just feeling nostalgic. I haven't tasted pancakes this good since my mom's."

Gabe's face softened, his eyes more tender, his chin propped up in the palm of his hand. It was in moments like these, with the sun pouring in through the bay windows, softening his features, that I was prone to forget who he really was, what he was capable of.

I could watch him for hours –there were so many details to him, the tattoos twining like vines along his arms, intricate and lovely, his dark eyes glinting in the sunlight, and his smile –good Lord, that smile could truly melt any girl's heart.

"So what are your plans for today?" Gabe asked, taking a bite of syrup covered pancake.

"Usually, I would go work my shift at the library, but I don't work there anymore."

"Is it because of Alexei? Because if so, I don't think you should let him get into your head like that."

"Oh, that's not it. He fired me."

Gabe's hand froze, a piece of pancake suspended midway to his mouth.

"He did what?" Gabe's hand dropped down to the table, his grip on his fork tightening.

I smiled sadly. "He fired me. After he broke up with me, he told me I no longer worked there."

Gabe's upper lip curled up. "What a fucking tool." He dropped his fork and it clattered against his plate. I winced slightly at the loud noise. "I'll help you get a new job."

I was about to thank him and decline, but I paused with my lips parted, my refusal at the tip of my tongue.

I could actually use the help. With one less source of income, I'd have to rethink my monthly budget entirely, and looking for a new job could potentially take me weeks.

"That would be great, actually. I seriously don't know how I can ever repay you for everything."

"No need." He smiled at me once more, his grin brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window.

~♠~

Honey was an adorable café in Beacon Hill, situated in between a souvenir shop and an equally adorable restaurant, La Petite Bourgogne.