He reaches over to the box of tissues on the table and cleans us both up. I’m certain I can’t move a single inch, so when he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch over us and adjusts until we’re lying face-to-face on the couch, I burrow deeper into his chest, seeking his warmth.
“So,” he says after a comfortable silence stretches between us, “does this count as our first date?” His arms tighten around me as I start laughing.
“Hell no,” I manage when I stop laughing. “First”—I poke his chest with a finger—“I’ve not agreed to a date. Just dinner. And second”—I poke again—“you’ll have to do a lot better than that to woo me.”
“Taylen Howard wants to be wooed.” His smile presses against my shoulder, his lips curved in a way I can feel against my skin. “Noted. I can woo.”
Movement from the bedroom doorway draws our attention. Gouta peers around the corner from the small hallway frame with an expression that clearly questions our life choices. Myrtle and Moira flank her like tiny feathered bodyguards.
She comes closer and sniffs us, giving averydisapproving bleat before heading to her bed in the corner.
“How very judgmental,” I say with a chuckle.
“I should probably install a lock on the bedroom door before this becomes a regular occurrence. My couch is okay, but we’re not twenty anymore.”
The casual mention that this will happen again sends warmth through my chest. Because he says it like a certainty. Notifthis becomes regular, butwhen. Like he’s already planning for more nights like this, more time together.
“Let’s not do age math because when you were twenty, I was?—”
He shuts me up with a kiss that’ll have me agreeing to anything.
“Stay,” he whispers against my mouth.
My answer comes in the way I burrow deeper into his embrace, in how my fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.
Something has shifted between us, like the first thaw changing frozen ground. Whatever comes next, proper dates, morning awkwardness, or judgmental farm animals, it feels less like fear and more like my new reality.
When Bastian drags me out of the living room to his bed and snuggles against me, I don’tthinkI’m in trouble. I know for sure that I am. Because my puppy love, my teenage crush, the love that I thought I felt for him before, is nothing compared to how I feel right now.
Sebastian Hall better be here to stay because I've never in my life wanted to be proven wrong more than now.
25
BASTIAN
The notein my hand feels both light and heavy, its crisp folds shaking with my trembling fingers. I watch his front door, wondering if elaborate gestures mean more or less when you’ve already seen someone naked.
I pull out my phone and send a simple message asking him to come outside. The whoosh as it sends sounds louder than it should in the truck’s quiet cab, and I watch three dots appear, then vanish, then reappear before a simpleComingappears on screen, making my belly flip.
For the love of cinnamon loaf, I’ve performed in front of thousands of people, and here I am. Nervous like a school boy asking his crush if he wants to go to prom.
Taylen’s door opens, and he emerges wearing his coat, smiling but shaking his head a little because, yeah, this is weird.
“You know,” he says as he reaches the passenger door, “normal people just knock on the door.” But his smile betrays him as he climbs in, bringing a rush of cold air and his usual scent of apples and earth.
I hold out the folded note. “Normal is boring,” I tell him, watching as his fingers brush mine when he accepts the paper. “Besides, proper wooing requires proper invitations.”
His laugh carries warmth that makes my chest tight as he unfolds the note with exaggerated care. “You are cordially invited to be wooed,” he reads aloud with amusement. “A bit formal for someone who had his tongue?—”
“Ah-ah,” I interrupt quickly, heat rising in my cheeks despite my best efforts. “This is different. This is…” I gesture vaguely, searching for words that won’t sound ridiculous. “This is doing things right.”
“This is a dinner,” he corrects, but his eyes hold warmth that contradicts his words. “I agreed to dinner. Not a date. Not wooing. Just dinner.” The words carry no real conviction, especially given the way his hand has found my knee.
“If you say so,” I agree easily, letting a smile fall from my lips. “Though aren’t you curious what sort of wooing I’m capable of?”
“Maybe,” he admits after a moment. His thumb traces idle patterns against my leg through the denim, making me want to reevaluate my plans in exchange for taking him back to his place. “I’ve always wondered if you ever had to put effort into your dates or if it came easy, given who you are.”
I glance at him as I pull away from his drive. “All the best ones have made me work for it, but no one like you.”
