After serving Gwen a plate and chatting for a few moments, May made a tactical retreat. Claiming she needed to "hunt down" Ben and Peter before they reached the nearest grease-trap, she left Toby and Gwen alone in the dining room.
The second May was out of earshot, Gwen's polite smile collapsed. she discreetly spat a half-chewed bite of the sandwich back onto a napkin.
"Toby," she whispered, leaning in. "May's cooking is... as unique as ever. I think my taste buds just filed for divorce."
Toby swallowed his own bite without a flinch. "It's bland, yes. But it's organic and non-toxic. Think of it as the opposite of the slow suicide you commit every time you eat fast food."
Gwen stared at him, her high intellect momentarily defeated by his sheer, unadulterated "straight-man" logic. How am I supposed to enjoy a burger ever again after that? she wondered.
Despite his clinical observation, Toby stood up and moved to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned and placed a plate with two perfectly basted eggs in front of her.
Gwen inhaled the scent of salt and fresh rosemary. Her eyes lit up with genuine admiration. "How is it that you can take something as simple as eggs and make them smell like a five-star brunch?"
Toby didn't look up from his cardboard-textured sandwich. "Because you just ate something terrible. Contrast creates the illusion of excellence in the mundane."
The light in Gwen's eyes flickered and died. She felt genuinely defeated. This was the moment, she thought. This was where you're supposed to say something cheesy like 'Because everything tastes better when I make it for you.'
But no. 'Contrast.' He's literally comparing my joy to a statistical anomaly.
She watched him calmly finish his "leather" sandwich, looking entirely unbothered. Gritting her teeth, Gwen picked up her fork and began stabbing the eggs with enough force to suggest she was imagining Toby's chest under the prongs.
Stupid Toby. Dense, muscular, beautiful, stupid Toby.
Toby caught her pout in his peripheral vision. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Want to go out later? Do some shopping?"
"Shopping? Go buy your own—wait. What?"
Gwen's head snapped up. Her blue eyes were wide with disbelief. After two years of acting like a literal brick wall, had the man finally developed a crack?
Toby: No, you just turned eighteen.
Toby smiled, a rare, genuine expression. "I asked if you wanted to go out. To the city."
"I... yes. Definitely. But it's so... sudden? I need to go home and change. Yes! I need a different outfit. Give me twenty minutes!"
The unexpected invitation had sent her internal compass spinning. She stood up, her face flushed a deep pink, and began walking toward the door with the stiff, robotic gait of someone who had forgotten how human legs functioned.
She hadn't made it three steps before a massive hand caught her wrist.
Gwen froze. She felt the heat of his palm through her sleeve. She looked back at his face—the face she'd been daydreaming about for two years—and her brain practically started emitting steam.
Is he that impatient? Is he going to... right here in the dining room?
As she cycled through various levels of "acceptance" and "pretended modesty" in her head, Toby spoke.
"Finish the eggs. Don't waste food."
Gwen: "..."
The man is only half-awake. His romantic instincts are still in the womb.
In the end, Gwen obediently finished the eggs. She didn't even go home to change. She stayed in her simple grey wool sweater, jeans, and teal Converse for her first "date" with the man of her dreams.
Though, "date" turned out to be a very generous term.
Gwen looked at the massive Ford dealership in the "Auto City" district, her eye twitching. Who takes a girl to a truck dealership for a first date?
She turned a dead-eyed stare toward Toby. "Why are we here? Unless you're planning on buying me a monster truck, I'm struggling to see the romance."
Toby looked down at her. Because of the sheer height difference, Gwen had to crane her neck back to meet his eyes. A stray, intrusive thought crossed Toby's mind—at her height, she was perfectly positioned to... Cough.
He shook the thought away and focused. "Not for you. I'm replacing Ben's car. He's been driving that sedan since I was a toddler; it belongs in a museum. I wanted a second opinion on what a man his age actually wants to drive these days."
Gwen let out a dry, hollow laugh. Of course. I'm the 'consultant.' I'm a tool.
But Gwen could never say no to him. She huffed, crossed her arms, and agreed—on the condition that he bought her a "properly expensive" lunch afterward as compensation. Toby agreed without hesitation.
It turned out that bringing Gwen was the right call. Toby would have likely just bought the newest version of Ben's old sedan. Gwen, however, pointed out that while sedans were popular in Ben's youth, men his age in Queens currently lived for the utility and "ruggedness" of a high-end pickup.
Under her guidance, Toby settled on the latest Ford F-150 Raptor R.
The price tag sat just over $110,000—close enough to the "bonus" he had shown Ben the night before. It wasn't that Toby couldn't afford a million-dollar supercar, but he knew his father. If he brought home a Lamborghini, Ben would be too terrified to drive it and May would lecture him on "flaunting wealth" for a month. A top-of-the-line truck was the limit of what they would accept as a "lavish success."
By the time the paperwork was finalized and the plates were issued, it was nearly noon.
Toby put Gwen in the passenger seat of the roaring Raptor and took her to a high-end, Michelin-starred restaurant for that "expensive meal."
Since Gwen was Dr. Connors' assistant, she had to head to OsCorp early to help set up for the afternoon seminar. After she handed Toby two temporary security badges for himself and Peter, he dropped her off at the gleaming OsCorp Tower.
When he finally pulled back into the Parker driveway, he walked into the house to find May, Ben, and Peter waiting for him with identical, suggestive grins.
Toby didn't need to ask. He knew exactly what they were thinking.
Unfortunately for them, the "date" had been strictly automotive. For now.