Page 4 of How Not to Date a Griffin

Nolan loosened his grip and winced at the stiffness of his fingers. “Right. Yes, well, I meant to do that. Don’t wanna drop it,” he muttered, and tapped the damn screen back to life.

Reid crossed his arms again. “What, your date stand you up?”

Nolan saw not why it was any of his business, but his eyes were twinkling and Nolan couldn’t find it in him to tell him to fuck off. However, the longer he stood there making small talk, the more of a chance Nolan had to spill the whole unfortunate incident at his feet.

“Something like that. I’m just going to order a car for the ride home,” he informed him, staring down at the glaring light of his phone. He didn’t want the poor guy to think Nolan was ignoring him. He did seem rather kind, after all. No reason to be an asshole.

“What? Why? I could just give you a lift,” Reid said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder.

Nolan lifted only his gaze. “Never. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”

Indeed, he had. And why?

In his tight black pants and the layering situation with the coral-colored shirt and faded graphic tee beneath, this man was leagues above some posh snob. He oozed coolness, or whatever the kids were calling it these days.

Though no matter how old or young the man may actually be, he did appear closer in age to Nolan than he’d first assumed.

And he couldn’t very well argue with his logic, could he?

“You already tipped me more than enough. It would be no big deal to drop you back off.”

Ah, so that’s what it was about.

“Don’t worry about that. Really, its nothing—”

Reid laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking him just a little and freezing Nolan into silence. “You tipped more than enough to cover another ride. Let me take you back to your fucking hotel.”

Nolan’s lips twitched at the man’s vehemence, and he nodded, still reeling from the familiar touch. “Well, alright then. If you insist.”

Reid squeezed once, a well-done, before releasing him altogether. “You’re sure you don’t wanna look around, get something? There’s some pretty great spots around here.”

Nolan glanced around at the multiple signs and the passing crowd. “Ah, no, thank you. I wouldn’t even know where to start, anyhow.”

“Let me ask again,” Reid said, voice firmer, and held up a hand to garner Nolan’s attention. As if he’d been unable to do anything but match the precise kind of chocolate truffle to the darkness of Reid’s eyes for the past several minutes.

Maybe that dark chocolate rose truffle from that one place in… oh, what was the city?

Nolan tilted his head forward to show he was listening. Kind of.

“Do you want something to eat?” The forceful way he asked made something warm unfurl low in Nolan’s gut, and it had nothing to do with wanting food.

Though he hadn’t eaten since before the flight that morning, so really, something to eat would be lovely, and he guiltily told Reid as such.

He startled as Reid clapped his hands together. “Great. Well, lucky for you, I’m from here, so I know all the good secret places that don’t require a reservation six months in advance,” he drawled, rolling his eyes in the direction of the exact restaurant Nolan was going to walk into ten minutes ago.

“I see,” Nolan said coherently. “Where to, then, my unofficial guide?”

He tripped over referring to Reid as his anything, but covered the blunder by sliding his phone back in his pocket.

Reid leaned in close, and Nolan was overcome by the earthy, spiced scent of him.

“Do you like pizza? And I mean the greasy, dripping with cheese kind of pizza?”

Nolan’s cheeks went warm again, and he couldn’t exactly blame it on the heat of the summer evening any longer.

“I think I could be persuaded,” he murmured.