He pulled the shop’s front door open. “Please don’t come back. If you want to open up a competing place across the street to drive me out of business for spite, be my guest, but I would appreciate if you didn’t step foot in my store or my home again.”
Cooper sighed. “If you change your mind, call me, okay?”
Oliver kept his gaze on the old floorboards beneath his feet. He didn’t react when Cooper squeezed his shoulder, and if he let the door go a fraction early, so that it caught the heel of one of Cooper’s suede Louboutin sneakers on the way out, he had earned the right to be petty.
His attention was caught by a shout and a hurried apology, and Oliver glanced out the window to see Cooper dodging around Avery’s fluttering form in the street.
“Hey!” Avery appeared fully recovered from the previous day’s migraine as he blew into the shop.
Oliver ground his teeth. He needed three minutes to decompress before he had to put his smiling face back on. “Can I get something for you?” He hoped it sounded friendly.
“Oh! Um. No. That is... “ Avery ran a hand over his bright red hair, which he’d combed down today, making him look more respectable and less like he was twelve.
“Or do you have new celebrity updates? Because I don’t think the vegan baking thing is going to work out.” He was pushing the false cheer too hard, but he couldn’t help it. Cooper had been watching, asking around. Fuck him for being a stalker. A coward. Fuck him for being good at his job and catching Oliver unprepared.
“Um. I wanted to ask about food. For me.” Avery coughed.
“Something other than late-night energy drinks?”
“Um, well, I guess. Maybe. Depends on what you think.”
“Let me get my notepad, and we’ll see what we can put together for you.” This would be okay. The upside to Avery coming in so fast was Oliver had no time to brood and second-guess himself.
“No!” Avery moved fast, stepping in front of Oliver, surprising him so that he stopped short. “It’s not—it’s not a meal plan. I mean. I—I had a question. About a meal. Just one.”
Oliver tried to follow. “Okay?”
“And the meal is—I mean—the question is. About the meal. The question about the meal is . . .” Avery was gasping like a dying fish, and his freckles were disappearing as he blushed furiously.
Oliver put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, hunching down so they were eye to eye. “Are you all right? Is it another migraine?”
Avery made a small squeaky noise as he shook his head.
“Are you sure?” Oliver was tempted to put a hand on his forehead, like his mom had done when he was little and home sick from school. Avery’s face was flushed, his eyes bright.
And then suddenly his mouth on Oliver’s was hot, wet, his tongue pushing hard against Oliver’s lips, and Oliver was stumbling back in surprise, because Avery was kissing him.
Avery was kissing him!
He grunted, and Avery hopped back before Oliver could even attempt to untangle himself.
“I’m sorry.” Avery was breathing hard. “I did that backward. I wasn’t going to kiss you until after I’d asked you.”
Oliver nearly wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, but he didn’t want to hurt Avery’s feelings, and anyway, he was too confused to try. He’d probably punch himself in the mouth instead.
“Asked me what?” His voice was as shaky as the rest of him.
“About the meal. Dinner.” Avery was vibrating. Or possibly running on the spot very quickly. “Would you have dinner with me?”
Oh. Shit.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
Avery nodded. “Maybe? Yes. I think so. Yes. I am. Would you have dinner with me? On a date. With me. Please. Yes.”
Fuck. Shit.The list of curses running through Oliver’s head grew, and he very nearly thumped his head on the counter to get it to shut up, but he’d only scare Avery.
