CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR DEAN
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DEAN
Deciding on the best boyfriend perk is hard.
Is it being able to kiss him shamelessly whenever I want, or not tensing up when he falls asleep on my shoulder? Or having another key on my keychain to serve as a constant reminder that we’re together?
Nope. It’s having him to massage my sore legs after too many hours in a cramped plane, not counting our first flight to Beijing or the drive from the airport in Boston.
We’d coordinated flights with Claire and Oscar again, but their connecting flight from Tokyo was delayed, and I only slept for three hours last night, and oh my god, Nick’s fingers are fucking magical.
“How are you not screaming in pain?” Nick asks, lightening his touch, which I protest with a groan. “It’s like I’m tenderizing meat here.”
“You are tenderizing meat. Keep going.” I bury my jet-lagged face into the pillow as my amazing boyfriend puts his whole body weight onto my thighs, making me moan like a moose in heat.
Sitting in the exit row only lets me stretch out enough to prevent outright agony, and the dull pain I get instead is always something I’ve had to deal with on my own.
Nick smacks my ass, and I don’t care. “Holy crap, babe. I’m touching your legs, not sucking you off.”
“I need this more than sex. Don’t fucking stop.”
He snickers and digs into my hamstrings deliciously. I’m so lucky he’s a Kinesiology student and knows his way around a guy’s body. In this way and other ways, although I’m sure the sexy stuff he knows didn’t come from the classroom. Some of that’s been from trial and error.
But it’s a lot closer to trial and resounding success with how this man puts me in a damn trance whenever he gets his hands on me.
I relieve Nick of his masseur duties after a while, shuffling over and patting his head. “Thanks,” I offer. “You’ve been a good boy.”
“Fuck you,” he scoffs, smacking my bare ass before I can put pants back on. “Just because I let you sleep on me doesn’t mean I bend to your every will.”
I rotate my head to face him and wiggle my eyebrows. “But you bend for my something else.”
He slaps my ass again, snickering, and I roll over to thwart any further attacks.
“You know what would make you a good boy is if you move home with me,” I half-joke. “I’ll buy us a penthouse if it’ll sweeten the deal.”
“Do they have any baseball over there?”
I shake my head. “Not really, no.”
My phone buzzes, saving me from having to backpedal out of this inconvenient conversation. It’s a notification from my job’s background check service, and with how quickly I press the icon to open the message, I’m surprised I don’t sprain a finger.
Your background check has been placed on hold as your selected document type does not match your selected nationality.
I roll my eyes. One thing I’m not looking forward to after moving home is this kind of meaningless bureaucracy. I read the rest of the message.
To continue with the identity verification and background check procedures, please perform the following actions:
Enter your Resident Identity Card Number
Upload an image of each side of your Resident Identity Card
Upload a photo of yourself, alongside the photo side of your Resident Identity Card
Complete the digital facial verification procedures
Can they…not? I already gave my info when I applied—
This is for a job. This is for a job. This is for a really good job that a lot of people would kill for.
Gritting my teeth, I do what the message asks, shooting Nick a tired look when he snickers at the ridiculous expressions the facial verification process asks me to make.
And then finally, finally, the screen flashes green.
Identity verification complete.
Background check against national databases complete.
I put my phone on the dining table.
After what, two months of limbo, it’s done, and I have the tiny morsel of certainty I’ve been craving—I’m going home. My one remaining grad school application should make a decision by the end of the month, and then I’ll know for sure.
“What was that all about?” Nick asks, and my initial excitement, or rather, relief, molds into trepidation and sinks into my stomach.
“My job got back to me and asked for a few checks.”
His gaze flicks to my phone, the screen still glowing green with the automated approval, and even though he maintains his usual smile, his eyes can’t lie. “I guess those went well?”
I nod. There isn’t anything for me to say, at least nothing that would make sense, or defuse any of the nervous tension in the air. I simply sit still, resting against the dining table, when Nick rises from the bed and walks over.
He stretches out toward me in the familiar way I’m so used to by now, and my body works on autopilot, coiling my arms around his waist when his wrap around my shoulder.
We’re well past the point of shrugging things off with horny jokes, so neither of us comment when I lean my head instinctively into his body and place my hands right above his crotch.
There’s a time and a place to get physical, and outside of those, I can’t force it, even if I still need a distraction from the inevitability of April.
I don’t want to force it, even when Nick still smells like the same mix of laundry detergent, musk, and shower gel.
It’s amazing, sure, but it’s beyond just hot—it’s familiar.
It’s familiar, and I never want it not to be.
“That’s great!” Nick says, and if I didn’t know him, the enthusiasm in his tone would be enough to convince me. His usual enthusiastic voice is paired with a higher pitch than usual, and right now, he’s speaking in what might as well be a deadpan. “So you’re all set, then?”
“I sure hope so,” I mumble, forcing my racing mind away from the million other things this job could throw at me. “I can finally start planning shit for real.”
He sighs into the top of my head. “Hey. I know we said we weren’t going to talk about this, but I can’t not.” He paused to gulp in a shaky breath. “I’m not going to break up with you just because of any distance. I should say it outright. Just, like, because.”
The unease in my stomach settles, if only a little, and I exhale gently into Nick’s stomach. “Me neither. When I said yes to being with you, I meant it. Without an end date.”
He tightens around my shoulders, and the sheer tenderness of it all makes me want to cry.
I bury my face deeper into his core and my emotions deeper into mine, running my hands up and down his solid back, slipping underneath his shirt not because I want to move things along, but because I need to be as close to him as I can.
This is what I was afraid of with everyone before—the kind of soul-deep affection that hurts in the best way.
It’s everything I’ve craved, and finally having it is life-changing, but the difference with Nick is that I couldn’t resist him if I tried.
And even though navigating everything coming our way is gonna be hard as hell, we’re both aligned: we aren’t gonna give up.
My god, I’m gonna miss him, but the way I feel wrapped in him right now? Worth it. Fucking worth it.
“And hey,” he mumbles, “even after next year, I’ll probably end up working in seasonal sports, even if I don’t end up playing, and I’ll have a nice, long off-season of lazing around your apartment.”
All I can do is blink up at him. He’s smiling, for real now, and the sheer affection he’s dishing out is so heavy, it’s making me want to collapse into a puddle. “You really thought through it all, didn’t you?”
“I did. I didn’t sleep a wink on the plane, so I had fifteen long hours on our second flight to come up with a simple plan.”
Someone pinch me? Please? Nick is something else.
“You’re the best,” I mumble into his chest. “But if you want to stay here instead—”
“Hey, look at me.” He tilts my head up with his fingers. “What the fuck else am I gonna do for six months in a new city where I don’t know anyone? I just need a gym, warm weather, and stress relief.”
I give him a weak smile.
“Besides,” he continues, “if everything goes well, we’ll both live our best lives. Me in pro ball, you as a douchey little finance bro.”
I laugh for the first time in who knows how many minutes, and seeing the way Nick’s face lights up when I do blankets me in warmth. Rising to my feet, I bring myself face to face with him and skim his jaw with my hand, leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on his full lips.
Apparently, my one, single, solitary laugh was enough to make Nick revert back to little shit mode, and he tangles his fingers through my hair and yanks me forward, spearing my mouth with his tongue and ravishing my throat.
“Imagine six months of that,” he teases when I pull back. “You’ll be dying to stick me in a car to the airport by the end of every visit.”
I glower back at him for a second before breaking. “We became official a week ago. Don’t make me dread the future already.”
He just ruffles my hair, and we fall into a comfortable silence. Well, one that’s comfortable despite the unease between us. I don’t want things to end between us in April, or ever, and we’ve both been clear about how we’re feeling the same way, but all this is just talk for now.
Things are gonna look different in four months. Things could change even between now and then, and when it comes to actually doing long distance, we’ll be in uncharted waters.
The best option for both of us is to make the most of our time together, and prepare appropriately.
It should be enough. I hope.
Because the thought of not having Nick in my life is already unthinkable.