Chapter 11 Nick
eleven
Nick
“I’m going on a date.”
Roman’s silence on the other side of the call speaks volumes.
After Aaron left—reluctantly on both our parts, but he wanted to make sure Kit was okay—I checked my phone and saw that Roman had done the same for me, texting that they wanted to see how I was doing. As soon as the call connected, I blurted that I’d been asked out before saying hello.
“With Aaron?” Roman finally asks.
“Yeah.”
“I’m assuming he asked you.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because you’ve never asked anyone on a date in your life.”
“Yeah. Well. No one’s exactly asked me either.”
“You mean Julie didn’t ask you out?” Roman asks, naming my first girlfriend.
I roll my eyes even though they can’t see me. “Not really. We were on that ski trip, and things kind of…happened.”
“Of course, they did,” Roman says with a laugh. “Only you could have as many notches in your bedpost and not have asked someone out ever.”
“Or gone on a real date. I mean, I’ve done stuff with people, gone to concerts and movies, gotten drinks or dinner with someone I was seeing, stuff like that, but, not like a real getting-to-know-you date with someone I haven’t fucked.
” I can feel Roman wince at my language even without seeing them. “Sorry.”
“You like him,” Roman says with the directness I love about them.
I’m quiet for a moment thinking about having Aaron in my place this afternoon.
After walking him to the door, I laid down on the couch where we’d been cuddling and checked my phone.
I’d been disappointed not to see a message from Aaron even though he’d just left my place, and I’d immediately called Roman noticing as I waited for the call to connect that the cushion where Aaron had rested his head still smelled like him.
Actually—I double-check—it kind of smells like both of us, and I like the way our scents combine to create something that’s made of both of us. And then I roll my eyes at the sappiness of the thought.
“Yeah,” I say. “I like him.”
Roman makes a noise that’s halfway between a chuckle and a hum of approval.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” they say. “Just…Kit, Aaron’s friend, made a comment after you guys left the restaurant.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“It wasn’t anything bad, just insinuating that you guys were hot for each other and couldn’t wait. Dan lit into him. I swear, if looks could kill, we’d be holding a funeral for Dan.”
“Kit’s a bit of a drama queen, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“Oh, that was very obvious, trust me. Kit is definitely not short for ‘kitten’ no matter how many times he calls everyone ‘sweetheart’ or bats his lashes. And you know how guys like that rub Dan the wrong way.”
I laugh, then sober. “You know it wasn’t like that, right? With Aaron and me. We came back to my place because the group stirred up some memories for him. He’s having a hard time with Zack’s death.”
“But something did happen or else you wouldn’t be going out on a date.”
For the first time in my life, I find myself wanting to keep those details to myself.
And it’s not because I’m embarrassed that all we did was kiss.
There was no all about it. Kissing Aaron was everything, and it was wonderful.
“It’s not what you think,” I say. “At least, not what my history would lead you to expect.”
Silence from Roman’s end greets my admission.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I’m thinking Ty might have been right. Maybe you are looking for more than a physical relationship with Aaron.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m not trying to get you to tell me what you did do, but I will say, you’ve always wondered why I like cuddling and kissing but don’t need sex. Forgive me if I hazard a guess that you might have figured it out a bit this afternoon.”
I know the smile that crosses my face comes through in my voice when I say, “You might be right.”
An hour before I’m supposed to meet Aaron for our date, I FaceTime Min in desperation. “I’m going on a date, and I’ve got no idea what to wear,” I say as soon as she answers.
“You’re what?”
“I know. Can we deal with that later? Right now, I need help figuring out what to wear, or I’m going to be late.”
“You’re serious.”
“I am. And I need your help.”
“Why? You go out all the time.”
I swear, I love my friends, but sometimes I wish they could focus on what’s most important. “I go to clubs and bars,” I say. “Not dates.”
“Wait,” Min says. “Is this like a real date?” She gasps. “Is it with that hot guy who was at brunch?”
“Yes, it’s a real date, and yes, it’s with Aaron. Again, can we deal with that after you help me figure out what to wear?”
“Hunh.”
“Miiiiiiin,” I whine.
“Niiiiick,” she whines back. “This is big news. But, okay. Clothes first, teasing later. Do you know what you’re going to be doing?”
“We’re going for dinner at Elements and then drinks at Bourbon and Branch.”
“Oooooo. Fancy. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”
I touch the button on my phone’s screen to activate the rear camera so Min can see my closet.
“All right,” she says after asking me to pull out a couple of options. “I’m thinking those navy pleated pants with a tobacco brown leather belt and matching shoes. On top…show me what you’ve got for shirts.”
It literally takes Min five minutes to put together an outfit that has me looking like I’m walking a runway instead of being an aging college student, and I’m incredibly grateful.
“Now, tell me about this date,” she says as I switch it back to a voice call so I can get changed.
“It hasn’t happened yet,” I say, but I’m grinning.
“Fair enough. How about the guy? How long has this been going on?”
“It hasn’t. This is our first date.”
“Hmmmm. Not willing to dish, playing coy…Nicholas Adler, do you have a boyfriend?”
She happens to ask me this question while I’m standing in front of the mirror, and I watch the color rise on my cheeks. God. I am already in so much trouble with Aaron. Instead of answering her, I say I need to get going so I’m not late.
“I want updates, young man,” she says before telling me she loves me and hopes I have a great evening.
I take Lyft to the restaurant and arrive about ten minutes early, but Aaron’s already waiting for me at the bar. He smiles as I slide onto the seat next to him, and I can’t help leaning over and giving him a quick kiss.
“Looks like we were both eager,” he says. “I like that.”
The bartender comes over, and I order a dirty vodka martini, extra dirty. Aaron’s already got a tumbler full of something that turns out to be an Old Fashioned. When my drink arrives, I lift my glass, and he does the same.
“To first dates,” I say.
“To successful first dates,” Aaron amends, and I take a quick gulp of my drink after we touch our glasses together.
“I’m really nervous,” I admit with a shaky laugh.
Aaron bumps his shoulder against mine, then lays his hand on the bar close enough to mine that our little fingers touch. I roll my hand over in invitation, and Aaron accepts. His fingers are cold from his glass, but I feel the heat return to them as we touch.
“I am, too,” he says. “Which is weird because it’s not like we’re complete strangers.”
“I know.” I shift on the seat so I can see his face better, but don’t let go of his hand. “I had to get Min to help me choose my outfit.”
Aaron laughs. “I got Kit to do the same. I will never hear the end of it.” We both laugh, but then Aaron sobers. “Maybe we’re nervous because tonight feels important to us.”
Swallowing hard, I nod. He’s right. It does.
I’ve never been out with someone who makes me feel lightheaded and bubbly, twists my stomach in knots, and sends tiny shocks running through my body.
And it’s all because I’m sitting next to him, and we’re holding hands, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the room.
“It does feel important,” I whisper. “I don’t want to screw things up, but, I’m being honest when I say I’ve never felt like this before when I’m with someone. It scares me.”
The smile Aaron gives me is glorious. “I believe you,” he says. “And it scares me, too, but in a good way.”
I’m saved from having to respond by the hostess arriving to let us know our table is ready.
We follow her through the dimly lit restaurant to a secluded table at the back of the dining room.
A red rose graces one of the plates, and the butterflies in my stomach turn into pterodactyls as Aaron directs me to that side of the table and pulls out the chair for me.
“Wow,” I say after the hostess gives us our menus and departs. “Did you ask for this?”
If the lighting weren’t so low, I’d know for sure, but I think Aaron blushes. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”
“No one’s ever given me flowers,” I say.
“I’m happy to be your first,” Aaron replies. “Again.”
His eyes sparkle, but it might only be the reflection from the candle on the table. I pick up the menu and busy myself perusing my choices. At least I would be if Aaron weren’t so distracting. After a few moments, I pick up my head and find him staring at me, his menu still closed on his plate.
“Do you know what you’re getting?” I ask.
“I’ve got a good idea,” he says without taking his gaze from my face.
Now, it’s my turn to blush. I glance down at my menu, then back at Aaron. “To eat,” I say, thankful that the lighting is so low because it means there’s hope Aaron won’t be able to see how red my face has gotten. “Here. At the restaurant. For dinner.”
Aaron laughs. “You’re too easy.”
“So, I’ve heard.”
The smile on Aaron’s face fades. He reaches out and takes hold of my hand. “Hey,” he says. “I want you to know, I don’t see you like your friends do. Whatever you’ve done in your past, it doesn’t matter to me. What matters is what we have right here, right now, what we’re exploring.”
I nod, not trusting my voice to stay steady if I try to speak.
Aaron makes me feel complicated things that have me questioning assumptions I’ve made about myself and what I want.
Even the rose on my plate makes me ask why my heart beat harder when I saw it.
That’s never happened before. Romantic gestures usually send me running for the door.
And the way Aaron held my chair for me. For fuck’s sake.
I nearly swooned. I don’t know why Aaron makes me feel this way, or why I like it so much, but I do know that I don’t want it to go away.
To be honest, I’m so distracted by the fact that Aaron is still holding my hand that I can’t concentrate on the menu.
I scan it quickly, find a pasta dish that sounds really good, then change my mind when our server lists pan-seared divers scallops with brown butter and capers.
Aaron opts for the chicken piccata and suggests we split the baked brie with roasted figs as an appetizer, and I agree.
“Do you want wine?” he asks.
I still have about half my martini left, but I tell him wine would be great. He confers with the server, selects a moderately priced California pinot grigio, and then gives me his undivided attention as our date begins for real.