“Speaking of which, have you decided if you’re going to Spain yet?” Rufus asks.
Halle stares at Kian. “Spain?”
“I have to do a six-week field research project as part of my course. Andalucia is one of the places I could choose to go.”
“Wow. That would be amazing. I love Andalusian horses.” Halle’s face turns bright red. “Not that you’d be going there to see horses.”
“I keep telling him he has to go,” Rufus says.
I stare at the table. It would be an amazing opportunity for Kian, but the thought of being apart for six weeks doesn’t fill me with glee. I’m a selfish arsehole.
Kian puts his hand on my knee under the table. “Should we order food?” He directs the question at the whole table.
We go to the till, choose our pizza base and toppings, pay, and take a buzzer back to our table. All the pizzas cost ten pounds, no matter how many toppings you request. Rufus also gets a couple of plates of dough balls and some garlic butter dip.
“You’re a cute couple,” Halle says. “How long have you been together?”
Rufus rests his chin on his palm. “Good question.”
Kian looks at me. Do I want him to defer to me to answer this question? No. I need to be the one to answer it. The trouble is, how do I define the start of our relationship? When he got on his knees and sucked my dick? When we kissed in the lake or frotted against each other on the jetty? When we had sex for the first time? Or Sunday night, when I asked him to be my boyfriend?
“We’re waiting,” Rufus says in a sing-song voice. “It can’t be that hard a question to answer.”
“A few weeks,” I reply.
Rufus narrows his eyes. “Since Scotland, by any chance?”
He probably wants all the credit for us getting together. Maybe he deserves some of it, but Kian deserves the most. If he hadn’t been so kind, patient, and understanding that weekend, nothing would ever have happened between us.
“Yes.”
Rufus grins and punches the air. “I knew it.”
“Don’t gloat,” Kian says.
“Am I missing something?” Halle asks.
“I arranged a romantic weekend for these two to encourage them to get together,” Rufus says. “I’m a matchmaker extraordinaire.”
“That’s one way of describing what you did,” I mumble.
“You can say ‘thank you’ now.”
“Thank you,” I reply through gritted teeth.
Rufus grins at Kian. “Your turn.”
Now Kian presses his lips together as though he’s fighting to hold back what he really wants to say. “Thanks.”
“That’s sweet,” Halle says.
“I’m amazing,” Rufus agrees.
“And modest,” I say.
“Now, I know you’ll want to thank me properly, but I can only be the best man to one of you.”
I wave my hands. “Slow the fuck down, Rufus.”
