They fell into easier conversation after that. Grayson told him about a construction project he was working on, renovating an old warehouse into office space. Ryan told him about the chihuahua that came in every week for unnecessary visits because her owner was lonely and just wanted someone to talk to. They talked about the town, about the places worth going and the ones to avoid. Grayson hadn’t been to the diner on Fifth Street yet, and Ryan insisted it had the best breakfast in town, even though the coffee was terrible.
“Worse than the clinic coffee?” Grayson asked.
“Nothing is worse than the clinic coffee. That stuff could strip paint.”
“You’re not wrong.”
The sun shifted, sliding more shade across their table. Ryan finished his latte and immediately wished he’d ordered a larger size so he’d have an excuse to stay longer. But Grayson didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. He sat with one ankle crossed over his knee, looking more relaxed than Ryan had seen him.
“Can I ask you something?” Grayson said.
Ryan’s stomach fluttered. “Sure.”
“What made you want to work with animals?”
The question surprised him. People usually asked why he hadn’t become a full veterinarian instead of a tech. “I don't know. I've always just understood them better than people, I guess. They’re more honest. When a dog is scared or hurt, they tell you. They don't hide it behind words or excuses.”
“That makes sense.”
“What about you? The rescue work… Is it just about the dogs, or is there more to it?”
Grayson was quiet for a moment. He looked out at the street, at the few cars passing by, at the antique shop across the way. “Both, I think. The dogs need help. But there's also something about taking power away from people who abuse it. Making sure they don't get away with it.”
The weight in his voice made Ryan want to reach across the table. He didn’t, but the impulse was there.
“That’s important work,” Ryan said quietly.
“So is yours.”
They looked at each other across the table. The afternoon light caught in Grayson’s eyes, turning them almost gold. Ryan felt something pull tight in his stomach, something that had been building since Thursday morning when Grayson first walked into the clinic.
“Feel like taking a stroll?” Grayson asked.
The two headed out, their pace slow.
They stopped under a tree, Grayson cupping Ryan’s cheeks. “Been wanting to kiss you since we met.”
Their mouths crashed together. Grayson’s lips were softer than Ryan had imagined, and he’d definitely imagined them. The contact sent electricity racing through every nerve ending. Ryan made a small sound in the back of his throat, something embarrassingly needy, and pressed closer. Grayson’s hands stayed on his face, thumbs brushing along his jaw, and Ryan felt like he might actually dissolve into the sidewalk.
The kiss deepened. Ryan’s hands found the front of Grayson’s shirt, fisting in the fabric to keep himself steady. The taste of coffee lingered on Grayson’s tongue. The scratch of stubble against Ryan’s skin made him feel dizzy in the best possible way. He’d kissed people before, but nothing had felt like this. Nothing had made his knees actually go weak like in some ridiculous romance novel.
Grayson pulled back just enough to breathe. His forehead rested against Ryan’s, their faces close enough that Ryan could count his eyelashes if he wanted to. Which he did want to, actually. He wanted to catalog every detail of this moment so he could replay it later when he was alone and probably still freaking out.
Chapter Three
The sun slowly set, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink. Ryan walked home slowly, his lips still tingling from the kiss. The memory of it played on repeat in his mind. Grayson’s hands on his face. The soft pressure of his mouth. The way the world had narrowed down to just the two of them standing under that tree.
Ryan touched his fingers to his lips then immediately felt ridiculous and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was twenty-four years old, not some teenager with his first crush. Except it felt a little like that, if he was being honest with himself with the giddy, floating sensation in his stomach and the stupid smile he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face.
The streets were quiet as he made his way back to his apartment. A few cars passed. Someone's dog barked from a fenced yard. The normalcy of it all felt surreal after the afternoon he’d had. Ryan climbed the stairs to his second-floor apartment and fumbled with his keys. His hands were shaking slightly. Ridiculous.
Inside, he dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and collapsed onto his couch. The apartment was stuffy from being closed up all day. He should open a window, maybe make dinner, do literally anything productive. Instead he pulled out his phone and looked at his messages.
Nothing new from Grayson. That was fine. Normal. They'd just spent hours together. It would be weird if Grayson texted right away. Wouldn’t it? Ryan wasn't sure of the rules here. He’d never been particularly good at this part.
He scrolled through social media without really seeing any of it. His mind kept wandering back to the café. To the walk afterward. To the kiss that had made his brain temporarily stop functioning. Maybe he should text Grayson. Just something casual. Thanks for coffee. Or was that too formal? Had a great time felt too eager…
Ryan groaned and tossed his phone onto the cushion beside him. This was pathetic. He was pathetic.
