Chapter 12 Nash
Nash
Igot to the restaurant ten minutes early because I couldn’t keep half-assing work I didn’t care about knowing I’d see Caleb today.
After checking the time approximately a thousand times this morning, I decided to just leave the house and come to the restaurant Caleb and I had agreed to have lunch at.
It’s kind of ridiculous that I’m behaving this way.
I’m thirty-six. I’ve been married, divorced, and attempted to date a handful of people over the years.
I’ve tried the whole swipe right, small talk “so what do you do?” dance, but nothing has made my heart feel this uneven, hopeful, beating-out-of-my-chest feeling I’m experiencing right now knowing that Caleb will be here soon.
I’m even more excited after our phone call last night.
I don’t usually have phone sex, but I could hear in his voice how worked up he was and how much he desired that guidance to get him there.
Now all I want is to hear those grunts and moans in person, to see the look on his face as he falls apart for me. Caleb’s given off bottom energy since day one, and lucky for us both, I don’t mind taking the lead.
The waitress comes back to drop off two waters at the table I’m waiting at, and as soon as she walks away, Caleb opens the door and strides in.
He’s wearing a navy coat, that’s different from his ski jacket, and a gray beanie.
His cheeks are flushed pink from the cold, and he’s scanning the tables until his eyes lock on mine.
He smiles and makes his way toward me, tugging off his beanie and running a hand through his hair.
His smile softens a little as he gets closer, almost like he’s trying to tamp down his excitement, but that just won’t do.
Without wanting to wait another second, I stand and meet him, pulling him into a hug before he can say anything. He sinks into it immediately, arms wrapping around me like he needs this just as much as I do.
“Hey,” he whispers against my shoulder.
“Hey,” I murmur back, holding on a second longer than I probably should in a public place.
When we finally pull apart, he gives me a quick, flustered smile before we walk back to the table and slide into the booth on opposite sides.
“You look good,” I compliment.
“So do you,” he replies, eyes flicking to my mouth, and I want to kiss him right then and there, but I know the middle of a Mediterranean restaurant isn’t the best place for me to kiss him for the very first time.
He shrugs off his coat and runs a hand through his hair again like he’s trying to shake off nerves.
“I missed you, Cay,” I say. “Even caught myself rereading our texts like a dumbass this morning.”
That earns me a full grin. “Yeah? I was doing the same thing.”
“Thanks for making this work.” I lean back, trying to relax. “I really wanted to see you.”
“Didn’t take much convincing,” he says easily. “I wanted to see you too. Work can wait.”
“It definitely can.”
His eyes drop to the menu in front of him, and I force myself to look too even though I already know I’m not going to remember anything I read.
“You good with splitting a couple of things?” I ask instead. “I don’t want to waste time trying to figure out what to order.”
“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “As long as I get to keep sitting across from you, I’m good.”
“You always this smooth?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He tilts his head, like he’s actually considering it. “No,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Definitely not.”
“You’re not making it easy to take this slow,” I murmur, eyes flicking back to him.
Caleb blushes, and I can tell he’s trying not to look away, so I reach for him with my leg under the table and wrap my ankle around his.
“I like it when you do that,” he says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he confirms.
We order and continue to talk. Our food arrives faster than expected, but we barely touch it.
We talk a little about work. He tells me about a massive house he’s designing for a client, and his job seems infinitely cooler than mine.
Then he asks, “So, what does Christmas look like for you guys this year?”
“Depends,” I say honestly. “Sometimes Tess and I will do parts of Christmas together since we do get along, other years she takes them for Christmas Eve, and I get Christmas morning, or vice versa. This year is still up in the air.”
Caleb nods slowly. “So, you’re not sure yet?”
“Not completely.” I pause. “Why? What do you and Sam have planned?”
He shrugs, a little sheepish. “We usually do the same thing every year, and it’s usually just us. Which is fine, but—” He cuts himself off, like he’s not sure if he’s saying too much.
“But?” I prompt, wanting to know what he’ll say.
“It just gets a little lonely sometimes,” he admits.
“I’ve had a lot of good holidays with Sam, of course, and I love him to pieces.
But sometimes I wish I had someone. I feel guilty for saying that because it should be enough, but I can’t help but want to wake up with a house full of good chaos.
It feels like he deserves more, too, than waking up, opening his gifts in ten minutes flat, then sitting there alone while I cook for just us.
Everyone else seems to be surrounded by love and family, and I just sometimes wish we had more of that. ”
The weight of his words hit me. I reach across the table to take his hand in mine. I want to tell him we should have our own Christmas together, but I don’t want to make any promises I’m not one hundred percent sure I can keep.
“That sounds hard,” I say instead. “Even if it’s good in its own way. The years that the kids are with their mom, I feel the weight of that loneliness too.”
Caleb lets out a breath, eyes on the table. “Yeah. I always feel bad because we have everything we need, and still, I can’t help but want more.”
“Maybe this year will be different,” I say, hoping that I can figure out a way to make his Christmas better. “And you’re not selfish for wanting more. We’re human, and we crave connection. You should never feel guilty or bad for that.”
“Thanks, Nash.” He gives me a small smile as I squeeze his hand.
After we finish and pay, I walk him to his car, hands shoved deep in my coat pockets as the cold winter air bites at our exposed skin.
I want to kiss him, plan to kiss him, as long as he’s okay with it.
He told me he’s never been with a man before, and the last thing I want is to make him uncomfortable.
When we get to his car, neither of us reach for the handle. We just stand there, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off each other in the crisp December air.
Caleb turns to me, eyes lifting, then dropping briefly to my mouth, and the tension between us is palpable.
“I keep thinking about you kissing me,” he murmurs, and that kicks my heart rate up.
I feel like I’m sixteen again about to have my first kiss. Except I’m not sixteen, and this isn’t just some silly crush.
“I still want to. Will you let me? Out here in the open?”
He swallows, taking a moment to steady himself, then nods his head just slightly. “Okay.”
I step forward, cupping his jaw with my hand, thumb brushing lightly against his cheek. His skin is cold from the air, just like my hand. He tilts his face toward me, breath visible in the winter air.
“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” I murmur.
He licks his lips as his eyes drop to my mouth, and I lean in slowly, giving him another second to back away. But he doesn’t, and when our lips finally meet, it’s like a silent explosion between us.
The kiss starts slow, but when I feel the sharp exhale he lets out against my mouth, I deepen it, letting my tongue tangle with his.
The peppermint from the mint he just had after lunch is thick on his breath.
Caleb’s a bit more reserved, but he isn’t pulling away, and I think I know what he wants.
I tilt his head back, fully taking the lead, and his whole body relaxes and coils tighter at the same time.
The air between us shifts from tentative to electric the more I guide him.
His body presses into mine, and I feel the heat of him through the layers.
I groan into his mouth and he swallows the sound.
It’s hot to the point I barely remember we’re standing in the bitter cold, and then I remember other people exist.
It takes every ounce of strength I have to break apart from him, but we are in public, and I don’t want anyone to say anything that might make him want to hide away. He’s panting, and I lean my forehead against his, still craving that connection.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, feeling his warm breath against my cheek.
I smile, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Worth the wait?”
His eyes are darker now, cheeks flushed from more than the cold. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, it was.”
“Good,” I murmur, brushing my knuckles down the side of his jaw. “I can’t wait till next time.”
His mouth twitches, that perfect blend of nerves and need. “Next time,” he echoes.
“I’ll text you when I get home,” I tell him, leaning in for another quick kiss before reluctantly letting him go. He climbs into his car with a dazed sort of grin on his face as I stand here and watch him drive away, already craving the next time I get to kiss him again.