“Thank God.” He flashed me a sexy grin and threaded our fingers together. “You wanna go back to that American steakhouse?”
“Yeah, I don’t even care. Take me back. Their ribs were solid.” In our defense, we’d had plenty of fish and chips since we’d arrived four days ago.
We maneuvered our way out of the Pride crowd, and Nathan handed our little rainbow flags to a couple passing by with two strollers.
One day.
“What’s next on our sight-seeing list?” he asked.
“Buckingham Palace, I think,” I replied. “And first thing tomorrow morning, the Tower.”
“I can’t wait. I love that there’s so much history. The whole city is like walking in a museum.”
It definitely was.
About fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the steakhouse where we’d had dinner last night, and I didn’t care if I looked like an ungrateful American tourist. I wanted ribs and wings, and I wasn’t gonna apologize for it.
We were shown to a nice corner booth close to the AC, which they weren’t generous with in this country, and then came the dreaded question when we ordered our drinks. I automatically said Coke, when I remembered…
“Is Pepsi all right?”
Can I pay with toilet paper?
Nate had, over the years, betrayed me by slowly coming to enjoy Pepsi—so he was as happy today as he’d been yesterday. Meanwhile, I ordered a ginger ale. They were forced to carry that in an American restaurant.
“And an ice water, thanks,” I added. “None of that sparkling shit. Plain ice water.”
We were soon left alone with our menus, and I let out a breath. We’d come here at the perfect time. The lunch rush was long since over, but it was too early for dinner.
“Oh—one more thing,” I said, as I recalled it. “You were gonna make up your mind about tonight. If we’re going to that kinky gay club or not.”
He frowned at his menu. “I forgot about that.”
I was good either way. Obviously, I would prefer not to go, but I didn’t hate those events anymore. On the contrary, shit had gotten a lot easier once Nathan and I had started making real friends in Boston. We’d come to realize how easy and fun it could be to play with others when you knew them. Not that we ventured very far. We kept things nonsexual, but it was okay to care for the subs. It was okay to give a damn. It was okay to form attachments in a platonic way. If anything, it was liberating to discover how wholeheartedly Nate and I trusted each other, because we always put each other first.
How we’d react to the next step was anyone’s guess, though. We’d officially begun talking about a threesome.
“We don’t have to go, baby,” I reminded him. “It’s not like anything’s gonna happen in fuckin’ London. We don’t know anybody here.”
“True enough.”
So we were staying in? I wouldn’t turn down room service and cracking open one of the cookie tins we’d bought for my mom. She’d requested English cookies from some fancy brand and preserves.
“What’re you ordering?” he asked.
I hummed. “I’m torn between the wings with fries and the ribs with hush puppies.”
“We could split one of each.”
Fucking A. “This is why I love you. Perfect.” I closed my menu and put it next to my utensils.
“Is that the only reason?”
I met his smirk and rested my arms on the table.
He mirrored my position but shifted closer. He was so goddamn gorgeous. But sometimes, I missed his glasses. He mostly wore contacts these days.
“Come on. Stroke my ego for our anniversary.”
