Page 27 of How Not to Date a Griffin

He was really expecting Reid to text him. Nolan was going to be in town for the week, so he… he’d hoped to slip out at some point and meet him for lunch. Maybe invite him to dinner. Repay his kindness.

Dear god, he felt naive suddenly, making plans with the guy when he hadn’t even heard from him.

“Sir?” A voice suddenly interjected into his thoughts, and Nolan snapped his head up.

Shit.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, stepping up to the counter and smiling at the expectant woman behind the register. He hadn’t even gotten to look at the menu, lost in his thoughts as he was.

He ordered the first salad he saw and paid for a bottle of water along with it.

The vibrant greens were tucked in a plastic box, handed to him over the glass counter, and off he went.

All the tables were full, so he continued on back to the presentation area, eyes scanning for a vacant seat.

He passed by a mostly empty room, and paused before backing up a step.

No… was that—

Reid?

That was definitely his long blond hair bouncing along his shoulders as he laughed and shook the hands of an official looking man in a suit.

Nolan was pretty sure his father had a meeting scheduled with that same man this week.

Nolan shook himself, glancing away before returning his reluctant attention to the blond man across the room. He couldn’t believe he was here.

In the same way he couldn’t believe last night was real. In the same way he couldn’t believe Reid was real. In the same way Nolan couldn’t believe his feet were leading him right to Reid, pausing with a caustic sort of grin. Was he welcome to say hello or not?

God, what if Reid was trying to ghost him—

Finally, Reid caught sight of him, a grin breaking out across his face, and the tension Nolan held in his shoulders dissipated. The pleased sort of surprise in Reid’s expression was real, Nolan was certain. No regret visible.

“Hey, man,” Reid said, and before Nolan knew it they were riding the wave of surprised excitement and letting it crash them into each other in a hug.

His cheeks went red at the intimate happiness they seemed to share at this unexpected turn of events, balancing his stupid salad and cold water bottle in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” Nolan asked as they pulled back, forcing himself to lower his full hands back down to his sides. In a flash Reid was pushing him against the shower wall, he felt the man’s hips kick as he gripped those shoulders—

“Hey,” Reid said, and waved his hand back and forth. “Where’d you go, are you listening?”

“Yes, of course!” Nolan answered, frantic.

Reid stared at him, waiting.

Nolan swallowed, noticing the businessman had made himself scarce. “But, uh, just perhaps, what was it you said?”

His lips twitched, one corner of Reid’s mouth curling up. “I’m here to crash the hotel schmuck’s hopes and dreams,” he said proudly.

Nolan stuttered to a halt, tilting his head to the side. “Uh, what?”

“You know… Whittier. He’s kind of an asshole, building his hotel empire on the bones of the businesses he’s ruined, and—” Reid suddenly paused, gaze bouncing over Nolan’s expression. “And you totally work for him, don’t you?”

Slowly, a hand lifted to cover the lower half of Reid’s face, his eyes twinkling in disbelief and amusement.

Nolan kind of wished the ground would swallow him up whole, and his hands tightened around the plastic containers. “Worse,” he admitted, shaking his head.

“What’s worse—no,” Reid said, voice dropping. He even took a half-step back as he studied Nolan, nose to toes and back again. Then he stepped forward, hissing, “You’re his son?”