Page 25 of How Not to Date a Griffin

Even with something to look forward to, the week still loomed. Nolan hated that he had to wake up tomorrow to go stand behind his father and give presentations for a business he hated.

Maybe Reid was right. Nolan couldn’t be miserable forever, but when would he ever find the courage to tear himself away?

That thought chased the others around his mind until sleep finally claimed him.

When he awoke again, the first thing he noticed was warmth. Then light, and he blinked himself awake, wincing at the bright morning glare from the open windows, and buried his face in a pillow.

Except this pillow hummed. And smelled nice, all citrus like his own body wash, mixed with spice. And had blond hair that tickled his face.

Nolan’s eyes widened, suddenly viscerally aware of the body he was spooning. He had an arm curled over Reid’s side, and in turn, Reid had curled himself around his arm, replacing the pillow that had fallen off the edge. Nolan’s knees were tucked into the curve of Reid’s body, chest pressed to his back.

He would have loved to cuddle closer and push the almost-panic aside in favor of feeling Reid’s body heat against him forever, but his gaze snagged on the clock, the numbers arranging themselves into an alarming lateness, and he froze.

Oh god. Oh fuck. He was so late. His father was going to be pissed.

He silently unwound his arm from Reid, who grumbled, but sank back into the pillows with a huff before sleep claimed him again.

With all the paranoia of a kid sneaking out at night, he slid from the bed and got dressed, tiptoeing around the room until he deemed himself ready to face the firing squad.

With the pen and hotel-branded notepad, he left a note for Reid and grabbed his badge before pausing by the door.

Reid looked like a dream Nolan didn’t want to leave, but the clock was ticking. He just had to hope that Reid would put the number he’d scribbled at the bottom of the note to use.

The door clicked softly behind him, and Nolan sprinted down the hallway toward the elevators. His father couldn’t have booked them in the same hotel as the conference, because that would have been too convenient. The rideshare line was far too crowded, so Nolan tossed his badge over his head and made for the front doors. It was already warm and sunny even so early in the morning, and he’d worked up a sweat by the time he made it down the block to the hotel hosting the conference.

With a huff, he adjusted his hair in the reflection of the glass doors and went inside.

It didn’t take long to find his father, just coming out of the double doors of the conference room. Nolan steeled his expression as George Whittier’s gaze landed on him.

“About time you showed up,” he hissed, darting a glance to the passersby and pasting a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, I overslept,” Nolan admitted. Which wasn’t a lie.

“Clearly,” his father’s assistant interjected, tone dismissive as always.

Nolan shared a tight smile with the both of them. “I’m here now. What have I missed?”

“Nothing of importance so far. Count yourself lucky,” his father sneered.

Nolan wouldn’t go that far. If he was lucky, he’d still be in bed with Reid. “What’s next?” he asked, already pulling up his phone to view the order of events.

“You know we’re really only here for one reason,” his father reminded him. “And the city’s officials won’t be here until after lunch. Can I trust you to be there on time?”

Nolan nodded stiffly. “Where else would I be?”

“Yes, that’s the question, isn’t it?” he drawled before stalking off toward the complimentary coffee provided by the hotel. Would he be taking notes and comparing it to Whittier’s Hotel coffee?

Chance, his father's assistant, rounded on Nolan and narrowed his eyes. “You know, you might be a pain in the ass, and utterly useless, but even I know that being on time is your favorite thing in your boring little life. So what was the hold-up this morning?”

“Wow, be careful there, Chance, that was almost a compliment,” Nolan retorted, refusing to give into his line of questioning.

Chance bared his teeth in a mimicry of a smile. “When pigs fly. Just don’t be late this afternoon.”

“I will be there,” Nolan repeated, and waited for him to walk away and join his father before releasing a breath. Late one time, and suddenly it’s the end of the fucking world.

They both winced at the coffee before his father murmured something, and Chance dutifully marked it down on his device.

Nolan took the chance to escape, walking through the hotel, its tacky carpet muffling his steps, and mapping the area. He passed by the conference room they would be presenting in that afternoon, and he grimaced at the size of it.