Chapter 18
OLIVER
Three dates. That has to be the threshold for restarting our physical relationship. Right?
Aaron hasn’t said anything, but on our second date, he once again left me at the front door of my building, thoroughly kissed and hard as fuck.
Satiated and frustrated at the same time.
He’s so sweet, coming up with exciting dates that aren’t too involved, but also aren’t the tired old fallbacks of restaurants and movie theaters.
Last weekend, we went to one of those paint-and-wine nights, both of us leaving with tragically flawed pictures that only vaguely resembled the fruit bowl in the middle of the room.
If I squint—hard—I can make out the shape of a banana and nothing else.
I’ll stick to my squids in space for the living room, but this painting has a place of honor in my bedroom.
In part, because it reminds me of how incredible the night was.
Neither of us could stop laughing. It’d be easy to blame the wine, but I only had half a glass.
The reality is that I’m falling head-over-heels for Aaron. In my opinion, our beta test is going swimmingly. Well enough that I mentioned him to my parents.
Not just my parents. I may have mentioned him on a family video chat. Which meant everyone suddenly needed a lot of details. Mostly ones I didn’t have answers to.
Especially anything that involved describing what our future looked like. I know what I want it to look like, but the path to get there is unclear.
Which, of course, is why they decided I should bring him home for Christmas. Nothing says serious like spending a major holiday together. In my hometown. With my parents, siblings, in-laws, and niblings.
I told them he has to work, which might be entirely true. I haven’t asked. They begged me to, though. Insisted that if he’s going to date the baby of the family, they need to approve him. It’s a lot to subject someone to, especially at Christmas.
At the same time, maybe it’s the perfect opportunity.
Everyone will be distracted by the presents and festivities.
Too busy to interrogate my boyfriend. Plus, if he doesn’t come, we’ll be apart for several days.
It’s not like we aren’t already, since our schedules don’t allow us to see each other every day, but this is different.
There’ll be a lot of miles between us. Besides, I know he’s not going home to his family.
I hate the idea of him sitting home alone.
All I have to do now is ask.
Since our last two dates have been out somewhere, I convinced him that our third one should be somewhere more private. Specifically, my place. After a bit of back and forth, we reached a mutually beneficial arrangement.
We’d stay in, but at his condo instead of my apartment. He argued that since we hang out there for our crocheting and running nights, a date required a change of scenery. Honestly, as long as I’m getting him to myself, I don’t care where we are.
As a bonus, I didn’t have to do any panic cleaning this week.
Plus, Aaron made dinner. Like, actually cooked.
“This is amazing,” I say around a mouthful of lemon pepper chicken.
“Thanks. It’s really easy.”
“I’m impressed.” Not that it takes much to impress me in the kitchen. My version of cooking is moving something from the freezer to the oven. “You’re welcome to cook for me anytime.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
I hope that means he’s going to be willing to have me over more often. It’s nice to be here alone, without all his other friends.
“What’s the plan tonight?”
“Well, I thought that we could watch a movie after dinner. I have a few picked out that we can pick from.”
“I’m sure they’ll be great.” I mean it, too.
I suspect that, left to our own devices, our TV viewing habits are very different.
Thus far, we’ve always managed to agree on something.
Is it always my favorite? No, but spending time with Aaron is worth it even if his choice in sitcoms leaves something to be desired.
Plus, movie time means time on the couch together. If I play my cards right, I can turn that into something more.
“Can I help you with the dishes?” My mother would be so proud of my manners.
“Nah, I cleaned as I went, so just put your plate and utensils in the dishwasher.” The kitchen is spotless. My dad always cleans as he goes. He’s tried to teach me over the years, but no matter what I do, the counters end up looking like they’ve been through an explosion.
It only takes us a few minutes to put away the last remnants of dinner. It’s a strange experience, working side-by-side with him in the kitchen. What would it be like to make dinner together? I’d probably end up mostly watching. It’s still a good idea for a date sometime.
In the living room, we settle on his sofa. I might pick a spot a little closer to him, hoping he’ll be okay with it. We haven’t really talked about the physicality—or lack thereof—in our relationship, other than Aaron telling me he wanted to keep it PG-13 until our relationship felt more secure.
“This okay?” he asks as he puts his arm around my shoulder. It’s a classic high school date move. Since I didn’t date much back then, it’s an experience I thought I’d missed out on. It’s maybe a little awkward, but strangely nice.
“Perfect.” I don’t know about Aaron, but I’m feeling very secure.
He flips through a few screens on the TV before pulling up the options he’d picked out for the night.
They all look like action films. I’m not against those, but the ones I typically watch include more superheroes.
These look more like regular guys who happen to save the day.
“Whatever you like,” I finally say, unsure it’s even possible for me to come up with an answer about which one I prefer.
He settles on the middle choice and hits play. As the opening credits roll, he pulls me in a little closer. If we can stay like this for two hours, I don’t care what the plot is.
AARON
“Okay, how much did you hate it?” I’ve never seen anyone check their watch during a movie as often as Oliver did. I thought about turning it off at least fifty times. Every time I asked, he always told me it was great.
If this was a typical third date, I’d probably believe him.
Things between Oliver and me are anything but typical.
In fact, they’re the exact opposite. It might be our third official date, but I’ve lost count of how often we’ve hung out together.
Many of those times are spent in front of a television, watching one of the shows he picks out.
From those, I’ve gotten a pretty good idea of what Oliver looks like when he’s engrossed in something.
“I didn’t hate it.”
I give him my best glare.
“I didn’t! It’s just not really my thing.” He shrugs.
“Why didn’t you say anything? We could have picked something else or even turned off the TV.” There aren’t a whole bunch of options around here, but I’m sure we could find something.
“Like what?”
I know that look on his face, the way he squints his eyes and licks his lips. I don’t know for certain, but it’s the one that makes me think he’s got dirty thoughts dancing through his head.
“Video games? A board game? Deep discussions about our childhood?”
“What about kissing?” He leans in close so he can whisper in my ear.
“What about it?” My heart’s racing with anticipation of what he has in store.
I put the brakes on our sexual relationship, wanting us to build something a little firmer before we headed back to the bedroom.
It’s been hard on both of us, the waiting and wanting.
Tonight, I have no plans to stop anything he might have in mind.
It’s part of why I invited him over. The last two times we’ve been out, I made sure we stayed in public areas—no chance of us doing anything more than some kissing. In the privacy of my home, those rules no longer apply. Instead, I hope we can take the next step.
Or return to one of our prior steps.
“Could kissing be on the list of activities?” Oliver is practically in my lap, only a breath of air keeping us apart.
“Hmmm… I might need to think about it.”
Oliver gets a huff out before I grab his hips and pull him close enough that I can kiss him.
It’s still a surprise every time our lips meet.
There’s no denying the chemistry between the two of us.
Even this, kissing with nothing more, sends my whole body into overdrive.
With anyone else, I’ve always been in a hurry to get to the next step.
Kissing was a stopover on the way to wherever the real destination was.
This is nothing like that. I’d be content to have him kiss me speechless all night. Especially when he takes the lead, rubbing his thumb over my jaw to encourage me to open for him. The longer our tongues tangle together, the closer Oliver gets, until he’s straddling my lap.
It’s only when he shifts, and I can feel his hard cock pressed against my midsection, that I start to crave whatever comes next.
Oliver must read my mind. “What else could we do tonight?”
“Anything,” I reply without thinking. “I’m yours.”
“Can we move this to the bedroom? Maybe get a little more comfortable?”
I pat his hip to encourage him to stand. He wobbles a little before he finds his balance. We’re both a little woozy after our make-out session, whether from lack of oxygen or something else.
It takes us a while to find the bedroom, stopping frequently to come together along my hallways. By the time we make it, I’m getting desperate for him.
“Clothes off,” he says as soon as we make it. He dumps his shirt and pants into a pile on my floor. As much as I like my place orderly, it’s nice seeing his things there. I don’t bother folding my own clothes or putting them in the hamper; I just let them fall next to Oliver’s.
“What do you want?” he asks.