Page 5 of How Not to Date a Griffin

“Good,” Reid purred—was that a griffin thing?—and grabbed Nolan’s hand before pulling him through the crowd. Away from the crowd. To a slightly quieter street, and then kept leading him.

String lights and ivory pillars disappeared in favor of cracked sidewalks and small businesses. The scent of grease and salted food filled the air, and Nolan breathed it in.

He was still dazed by Reid’s casual hand holding, when Reid finally released him to pull open a glass door beneath a sign proclaiming Crustworthy’s was home to the Best Pizza EVER.

“That’s quite a title,” Nolan mused, and stepped inside the building.

“They live up to it, promise. I wouldn’t bring you somewhere mediocre, would I?”

Nolan eyed his temporary companion, his black boots with the yellow thread, and—yeah, that was an earring that glimmered in the terrible lighting.

Mediocre was the last word that came to mind when Nolan looked at Reid.

Reid

This guy was insane…ly hot. Emphasis on insane.

Who let some stranger drag them around the city? Reid could be a serial killer or something. He wasn’t, but how could Nolan know that?

Drag him along Reid had, and now he was watching Nolan devour a slice of pizza from his favorite place.

Nolan moaned again as he took a bite, the cheese threatening to slide right off the huge triangle and onto his paper plate.

Reid had been a little hesitant to bring someone like Nolan, in his fancy little matching pants and suit jacket and shiny watch, to his favorite place… and yet.

And yet not even the harsh fluorescent lights and scratched metal top of the counter could diminish this guy’s appeal. He had seemed a little alarmed when the cook had slid two paper plates across the counter.

In the moment, he’d glanced to Reid for… well, Reid wasn’t sure, really. Approval? Doubt? But it’d made his heart do a little flip in his chest all the same.

“I take it you like the place, then?” he asked, amusement twitching his lips as he adjusted in his seat. They had found a bench not even a block away, and Reid’s cheeks kept turning red every time Nolan groaned when he took a bite.

The man was shameless. He looked like a weirdo, moaning around his pizza no matter who was walking by and shooting them odd looks.

Nolan leveled him with a dry look, jaw working before he swallowed. “You were right. And the sign. It’s quite literally the best pizza I’ve ever had in my entire life. I could… I could marry this!”

Too bad it won't be here for much longer, Reid almost said, but didn’t want to spoil the mood.

He snorted. “Might wanna try taking it on a date first. You skipped a few steps.”

Nolan’s lips twitched, and Reid wanted to give himself a pat on the back for drawing amusement from him. “You’re quite right, wouldn’t want to rush things,” he mused.

“Oh no,” Nolan suddenly said, and dropped his pizza to the plate.

Reid arched a brow, watching curiously as Nolan grabbed one of the ten thousand napkins he’d required before leaving the shop.

“See? I knew these would come in handy,” he said, dabbing at his palm. “I’m going to ruin this shirt, and honestly, I can’t be fucked to care,” he muttered.

Reid didn’t know why the curse surprised him, but it felt out of place from Nolan’s lips.

Nolan shrugged off his jacket, and Reid gulped as he revealed the broad expanse of his shoulders, somehow hidden beneath that one layer. Then he did the unthinkable, and began rolling the crisp white shirt sleeves up.

Dear god, Reid began, swallowing sharply. It’s me. I don’t ask for much.

Nolan’s actions proved he actually could be fucked to care about his probably expensive shirt, but he still picked up his pizza once his sleeves were rolled appropriately, and back to moaning he went.

Reid sent a few more prayers north, and finished off his own slice.

After folding his paper plate down, he leaned back in the bench and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle and watching Nolan.