“What?” James asks, letting his hand hover over his rolls. I’m sure he’s thinking I’m mentally critiquing something about the way he’s holding chopsticks or eating his maki. When we go out for Japanese food, he always tries to impress me with his ease in adapting my culture and asks a lot of questions to get it right. But now, it’s not that.
I duck my face to hide my smile. “Nothing, nothing. I just…I like the view a lot. It seems stupid to say it loud but, I just realized that I could sit across from you like this for the rest of my life and be happy with it.  Only in the future, you’ll be wearing a button-up shirt, and then a polo, or maybe a cardigan, and …I don’t know. You’re still wearing a shirt from college.It just …feels like a beginning a guess.”
I busy myself with my miso, my face feeling hot.
James sets his chopsticks down and seems at loss for words.
“Seems stupid right?” I mutter, poking the tofu in the bowl.
“No no…it’s just-” James takes a sip of his water. “I was wondering if you’re psychic or something because I was thinking the same thing.”
My eyes widen. “Eh?”
“I mean, about sitting here with you. Well, not exactly. I was uh, trying to picture you in like traditional Japanese clothing…I don’t think you’d look good in a cardigan really.”

I laugh, freeing myself from discomfort. Now I can’t stop smiling. The words slip out of my mouth before I’m even aware I’ve thought them: “I love you, James.”
James puts his hand on the table on the rainbow scarf from today’s Pride, and I put my hand over this.
“I love you too,” James replies, trying out the words for the first time.

I feel like my heart’s going to explode. I suddenly want to kiss him very badly. I lean forward and James understands what I want. He lifts himself off the seat slightly and meets me halfway across the table. The kiss is gentle, sweet and warm, and then we sit back in our chairs and continue eating like nothing’s happened. Only now, we can’t stop grinning like idiots.

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Text is fictional. This is Derek Binsack and this post isn’t an attempt to personify him or assume his sexuality (although I’m pretty sure he’s gay).