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Just before seven, my phone buzzes with a text. Heart sinking, I pick up my phone, swipe up on the screen, and let out the breath I’m holding. It’s from Marney.
Relax, Cam. Breathe.
I laugh. She knows me too well.
I’m doing my best, I type back, then notice the time. It’s a few minutes after seven. My heart starts pounding, and my hands go cold. I go into the guest bathroom and fuss with my collar. On Marney’s recommendation, I’m wearing a maroon V-neck sweater over a light blue button-down shirt and dark blue trousers with oxblood wingtips. She said the sweater brings out the auburn highlights in my hair. Okay, she also said that if the evening is a success, it won’t matter what I’m wearing because Tyler won’t notice. When didn’t help, she took pity on me and picked out something suitable.
When the doorbell rings, I momentarily forget how to walk. It isn’t until the bell rings again that I get myself under control and make it to the front door. I take a deep breath before I open it, and then stand there completely stunned. Ty stands on my front step holding a bouquet of sunflowers and a pastry box, but it’s not the things he’s holding that captivates me. It’s the fact that he’s there, that somehow, improbably, I met this man in the most unlikely circumstances, we hit it off, and he’s actually here staring at me with those incredible eyes of his, and we’re about to have our date.
I clear my throat. He smiles at me.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
We continue to stare at each other.
“Am I… Am I too early?” Ty asks.
His words shock me out of my stupor, and I stumble through an apology, take the flowers that he holds out for me, and stand aside so he can actually enter my house. As he passes by me, I catch his scent: vanilla and verbena with something richer, earthier. In all the time we’ve spent together, I haven’t been aware of it before, and its presence is heady. I feel as if I might swoon like the heroine of a Jane Austen novel. Chuckling at the thought, I close the door behind him.
He turns in my hallway, raises an eyebrow at me, and I take a moment to fully appreciate that he’s here, in my house, looking amazing in a navy jacket that fits his trim body to perfection. He’s wearing a white button-down and dark, slim cut jeans paired with black ankle boots that have enough of a heel he’s almost as tall as I am. I love that he’s dressed up a bit too, even though we’re only having dinner at my house.
“Come on through,” I say.
My part of the Victorian Marney and I share is pretty easy to navigate. There’s what would have been a sitting room to the left of the entrance, that I use as an at-home office. Next to it is the guest bathroom, and then the door to my bedroom. The hallway opens out into an open-concept kitchen, dining area, and living room with floor-to-ceiling doors that open onto the garden. In the corner, spiral stairs lead up to Marney’s unit. I’ve taken the precaution of closing and locking the door at the top of the stairs just in case she and Iris decide to return here after dinner.
“This is really nice,” Ty says as he follows me to the kitchen. He places the pink bakery box on the counter, and I lay the sunflowers next to them.
“Thanks,” I say, then let out another chagrined chuckle. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“Me, either,” Ty admits. “I was so worried about being late that I got here half an hour ago and have been walking around the block until you wouldn’t think I was some kind of lunatic.” His entire face turns bright red, and he clamps his hand over his mouth. “Oh, God, I swore I wasn’t going to say that.”
I take hold of his hand, pull it away from his face, then use it to reel him in. “It’s fine,” I say. I love how he fits within my arms, the way his body feels against mine. We haven’t had much of a chance to explore or get to know each other physically, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The way Ty feels in my arms, it’s like I’ve known him for years. And he’s staring at me like he’s having the same thought.
“Kiss me?” he asks.
“Your wish, my command,” I say.
We start out slow, a gentle press of our lips, an unhurried exploration. Ty’s hands grip my waist, pulling me closer as I flick my tongue out to tease at the seam between his lips, asking him to open for me. With a groan, Ty does just that. As his glorious taste fills my mouth, it’s my turn to make a sound. It’s somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and it would be embarrassing if it didn’t make Ty respond in kind. His hands trace their way up my back until he can tangle his fingers in my hair.
He pulls my head down, our kiss turning feral as we start to grind against each other. Both of us are hard, almost rutting as we try to get more friction on our dicks, get deeper into each other’s mouths. I can’t get enough of him. His taste. The feel of his body against mine. The sounds he makes. The intoxicating scent of his skin.
It takes us several minutes to come up for air, and when we do, we linger, our kisses slowing but not stopping. Ty’s fingers still tangle in my hair, his palms cupping the back of my head, thumbs tracing the line of my jaw. I’ve got him encircled in my arms, hands under his jacket so I can feel the heat of him through his shirt, my palms pressed against the small of his back, fingers tracing lazy circles that make Ty shiver.
At last, we pause, our foreheads resting against each other.
“I’d say let’s skip dinner, but you’ve gone to so much effort, and it smells amazing,” Ty says.
“It’s only food,” I say.
Ty laughs, breaking the spell we’ve fallen under, and steps out of my arms. I immediately feel bereft and want to pull him close again, but I control myself. We’ve got all night, and if things go right, this is just the beginning of our time together.
Tyler
Watching Cameron bustle around the kitchen makes me wish I’d brought my sketch book. His movements are efficient, graceful in an unpracticed way, and the lines of his body elegant as he finds a vase and fills it with water for the flowers I brought. It embarrasses me that I actually Googled what flowers I should get for a first date since I didn’t want to get him roses on Valentine’s Day. Not only would they be ridiculously expensive, but the selection was probably going to be picked over, and roses felt too clichéd for two guys who’d met during jury duty. When I found a container of sunflowers tucked into the corner of the floral display at Costco, I knew it was the right choice, and they look great when Cam puts them on the table.
“I love sunflowers,” he says when he returns to the kitchen to take a bottle of wine from the fridge.
