“Well, shit,” Tanner said, blushing as he turned back to the stove. But Lance wasn’t about to let him hide. Not when he finally had proof of how Tanner saw their relationshipprogressing. Which was—thankfully, in the very same direction that he did. And wasn’t that fucking wild?
“Move in with me,” Lance said, without any hesitation. “Break your lease and move in with me.”
Tanner laughed and shook his head like Lance was just being ridiculous. “We’ve only known each other for a month. It’s too soon. I can’t just—”
“Why the fuck not? You’re already living here. Please—please, Tanner, just—fuck the rules, okay?”
“No,” Tanner said firmly, shaking his head. “I can’t. This is nuts! Your family doesn’t even know—”
Lance pulled his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll call them right now.”
“No! Lance, Christ, not over the phone!” Tanner shouted, torn between laughter and outrage.
“Fine—we’ll do it another day, together. But move in with me anyway.” Lance asked again, looking at Tanner with unshakeable certainty.
Tanner chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re both headed for the looney bin. You know that, right?”
Lance laughed and hugged him excitedly. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?”
Tanner gave a shy nod of agreement.
“Now all that’s left on your list is to get a real job and fly again. Pretty sure Dave could help you with both of those if we asked him to.” Lance pulled back to look down at Tanner, his gaze sparkling with excitement.
“Is that all?” Tanner joked, rolling his eyes.
“Easy shit,” Lance confirmed with a nod. “Now that we’re together, everything else is easy shit.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic!” Tanner declared.
“I thought you said I was destined for the looney bin?”
“That, too!”
They both laughed as they loaded their plates with Tanner’s latest culinary efforts of preparing Swedish meatballs with a side dish of green beans almondine. They dove in hungrily, smiling like idiots at each other. Once Lance had finished his dinner, he sat back to look at Tanner admiringly.
“When did you start it?”
“Start what?” Tanner asked.
“Your list.”
Tanner sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of answering. Lance was stubborn and relentless when he wanted something.
“The same week we went to Moon Pie’s.”
Lance nodded. He recalled how broken Tanner had looked then. Like he was barely aware of where he was or where he was going.
“It was my shrink’s idea. Something about proving to myself I wanted to live.” Although he waved his hand dismissively, he avoided Lance’s gaze. “For a whole week, I just stared at it and couldn’t come up with a single thing to write,” Tanner explained, frowning at the memory. “Then I sort of lost my mind again—and I apparently got the hots for this boring as hell accountant whose couch I was stealing on the regular—and shit started getting really fucking weird after that.” Tanner grinned mischievously.
“Got the hots?” Lance asked, mockingly. “How old are you anyway? Who talks like that?”
“Idiots, clearly.”
“Idiots, granted,” Lance replied with a wink.
Pondering the job part of the list, Lance viewed it as the greatest challenge.
“What kind of job would you like to have?”
