Since I was pretty sure that Gilbert still had literally nothing in his house, I suggested stopping by the supermarket and ordered him to buy food he could make something out of, or at least some kind of (healthy) snack. If I didn't, he'd probably die from eating too much Taco Bell and Pringles.
"Don't you like fruit?" I asked him.
"I love fruit."
"Then buy fruit, fool! And get some bread too."
He sighed and put apples, bananas and grapes in his basket, letting me drag him to the bread department, and the frozen food, and the ready-made meals. All he'd have to do was put the oven on the right temperature and set an alarm. He couldn't possibly ruin his food if he followed the instructions.
He insisted he'd still somehow fuck it up.
I felt like laughing. This was so domestic.
"Why don't you cook for me?" he asked when we were in the line for the checkout and now I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing. I shoved him and exclaimed, "Because I can't cook for you every single day, Gilbert. Gosh. I'm not your wife!"
"Imagine that."
"You'll be gone before you can even say the vows."
"I don't doubt it."
"Actually... Can I ask you something?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"No, not that! Jeez."
He blurted a laugh, quickly covering his mouth to hide the smile. "Sorry." And another snort. "W-what is your question?"
"I'll tell you when we're back home."
"Aw, come on!"
"I don't wanna talk about it in the supermarket, Gilbert."
It wasn't exactly something to talk about in public. Neither was it something to bring it up this early in our relationship—if I could even call it that—but I needed to know. I needed to know now, before we were too far in. Before I was too far in.
Gilbert glared at me and dropped his basket on the conveyor belt, letting all his groceries roll out at once. The wrinkled, gray-haired lady before us scowled and muttered, "Damn teenagers," but we pretended not to notice.
When we got back to Gilbert's house, he put the grocery bag on his kitchen table, not even bothering to put the frozen food in the freezer, and I sighed... This was just like back home—my mom yelled at me every single day until everything was stored away in the kitchen. I suppose it was the perfect opportunity to ignore his incessant nagging, though.
"Eve, please, I'm dying to know."
I put a box into the freezer with an eye roll and reached into the bag only to realize— Damn it. That was the last one.
"Fine. Sit down."
He immediately sat down at his kitchen table, looking up at me expectantly, like an obedient, little puppy, and I sat down next to him and asked him in my best impression of a strict, overprotective dad, "Okay, so I have to ask you... since I'm not letting my parents do it for me, what are your intentions with me?"
He blinked in surprise.
I chuckled at his expression and muttered in my normal voice, "Because... well, you can't just string me along and leave me after we've... you know."
"I know."
"So then...?"
"I know you're not into that," he said. "And that's not what I'm here for. I did my research, because you know, I felt like it might be awkward to ask you about it... You seemed like you didn't even know what you wanted yourself."
"You did research?"
"Yeah, it'd be kinda inconsiderate not to, right? I don't wanna seem like a dick and fuck anything up. I just got here and... I, uh..."
"You really did research for me?"
He nodded.
I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling.
Most people were dicks about my sexuality when I told them, but he hadn't said any stupid shit like 'how do you know you don't like sex if you've never tried it?' or 'maybe you just haven't met the right one yet'. He just... accepted it and actually looked up what it meant himself. No one had ever done that for me...
"Look, I know I seem like the type that... enjoys sex," he said softly, looking away and rubbing his arm, "which I do. I'm a pretty, uh... sexual person, but I obviously don't need it. And I know that th-that's not your thing, so... uh... yeah."
"So?"
"So I'm just..." He sighed and kept rubbing his arm, where a red spot was starting to form. "Uh, I'm waiting for you to... call the shots, I guess?"
I couldn't fight the smile anymore.
"If you don't wanna do anything, we won't. Simple as that. I'm not gonna force you or pressure you into anything or some shit like that. That's just fucked up. It's all up to you." He paused to run his hand through his hair. "I'm not, uh... the best at talking about shit, I've been told, but—"
He cut off in the middle of his sentence when I put a hand on his shoulder. His eyebrows went up three feet when I said, "Gilbert, you are so... sweet."
"Oh. I am?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
As if a demon had possessed me, I leaned forward to wrap my arms around him. Me, hugging someone willingly... Who thought the day would ever come? It felt good, though. I felt like I needed to hug Gilbert.
His arms slowly went up around my shoulders to return the hug, and neither of us said a word. Perhaps we didn't want to ruin the moment by saying anything, and perhaps we just didn't have to say anything. Whichever it was... the hug said enough.