“Oh my god! You have to see pictures of the playroom!” Adrian gushes, showing only some of the hundreds of pictures he’s taken of my house. “Obviously, they’ll grow into it, but it’s got a whole obstacle course set up that can adjust as they get bigger, starting out with short things to help them pull to standing, a small ball pit, that sort of thing. But eventually, everything is in place for a rock-climbing wall and monkey bars!”
Now that things are settled with Emily, it’s hard to focus on anything other than Adrian. My grilled chicken is practically untouched in front of me because I don’t want to look away. He’s so expressive, telling her about the research he’s been doing for the nursery and talking about the other renovations he’s been in charge of at my house. I love seeing how passionate he is about everything.
But I’m also realizing that the way he expresses his excitement is different when we’re with other people than if it’s just the two of us. It’s not like he’s a different person when we’re alone or anything, more like he’s less… performative, maybe? I’d like to think it means something, that he’s more comfortable with me, that he knows he doesn’t have to put in any extra effort to impress me. Or maybe he’s nervous, and his projection of over-the-top confidence is an attempt to cover that up.
Whatever the reason, I’m glad I get to see that other side of him.
Or at least I did.
I have no idea where we stand after last night.
I loved every moment of our kiss. I’ve replayed it over and over again in my mind all day. And I've thought about what he said afterward, and about how hot he was standing up for himself as he scolded me, just as much. I definitely confirmed everything I’d guessed about our potential physical connection.
I just need to make up for the fact that he thinks I only kissed him because I was desperate for Emily’s approval. Now that we’ve already kissed, now that I know how amazing it was to kiss him, I know I won’t be able to wait for my initial timeline. I want to be with Adrian. I want to date him and claim him as mine. No hesitation.
Well, other than the fact that I am still a professional hockey player, and claiming Adrian publicly as my boyfriend would be a pretty big deal for my career. I can’t even imagine Ollie’s reaction.
But before I worry about any of that, I need to get him to agree to be my boyfriend in the first place.
When the dinner ends, and we’re all saying our goodbyes, I plan to follow Adrian to where he parked like I normally would, but he stops me before I can even try. “Why don’t you walk Emily to her car? I’ll see you at home.”
Obviously, I can’t refuse that, so I agree and hope like hell he won’t be locked away in his room when I get back.
To my extreme relief,he’s waiting for me at the kitchen table, a glass of water set for both of us.
“Hey,” I greet with my best attempt at a flirty grin as I sit down. Not sure how well I manage, though, with how nervous I am. His unreadable expression doesn’t shift. He’d said I didn’t need to move out earlier, but what if he changed his mind? “Oh god, are you kicking me out?” I blurt.
He chuckles. “No. But I think we need to talk about what happened.”
“Yes, definitely!” I rush to speak first. “I’m so sorry that my actions last night hurt you and made you feel used. I respect you so much, and I would never intend to do either of those things.”
“I know you wouldn’t, Hudson,” he agrees, finally smiling just a little. “And I appreciate you saying that. I’m sorry if my reaction in the moment was overly harsh.”
“Nah,” I tease. “That was actually really hot. Feel free to scold me or put me in my place whenever you’d like.”
He clearly wasn’t expecting that reaction. His eyebrows scrunch together, and he looks deep in thought for a moment before he shakes his head. “Okay, after last night, I think we need to stop jokingly flirting with each other. It’s too confusing.”
My stomach feels like it drops right through the floor. That’s the opposite of what I want. I don’t want to stop flirting; I want to do it more. I want us to know that the other person really means it when we tease and flirt. I want us to cuddle and not have him think it’s weird.
But he doesn’t know any of that, and I’m the only one to blame.
“I wasn’t joking,” I assure him. “And I don’t want to stop flirting with you.”
He shakes his head again. “I don’t understand.” I stand up and walk over to him, picking up his hand in mine. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to get you to stand up.”
He rolls his eyes but follows my lead, not dropping my hand. “What now?”
“Now I’m going to ask you nicely,” I say, smiling at how cute his confused expression is as he looks up at me.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
I take a steadying breath, really hoping I’m not about to fuck everything up. Again. But I know I need to do this. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try. “You said if any of it was real, if I ever wanted to kiss you again, I would need to apologize and ask you nicely. You accepted my apology, so, please, Adrian, can I kiss you?”
He doesn’t respond right away, his gaze shifting from my eyes to my mouth and back again. I feel like my heart is in my throat as I wait for his answer.
Finally, on an exhale, he asks, “Is this a fucking joke?”
