Page 71 of How Not to Date a Griffin

Reid nodded and sighed heavily into his shoulder, and just for a moment, they simply existed. But despite how desperate they might be for time to stop, it continued on, and so Nolan pulled away, tugging on Reid’s hand.

He led him to the bed, and waited for Reid to strip down to his boxers while Nolan stepped out of his shoes. Reid burrowed under the covers, then held up one end of the sheets, and Nolan shuffled in next to him.

It was comfortable and smelled like Reid, all earthy, green spice, and Nolan pulled him in closer, his back to Nolan’s front. Reid’s throat clicked as he swallowed.

Quiet.

All he could hear was Reid’s breath, in and out, slow and even.

Tomorrow was Thursday. Today, technically, since it was so late.

His chest squeezed tightly. The week was coming to an end, whether they were ready or not. Nolan wished he could stay right here, wrapped around Reid.

When had it changed from we have all week to this pit in his stomach?

It took him a second to catch on to it, but Reid was still in his arms. Like, really still.

“Breathe, Reid,” Nolan said softly, the breath of his words shifting Reid’s hair.

Reid sucked in a breath, and Nolan pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “Stop thinking. Sleep.”

Nolan stroked his hair and whispered sweet things to him, promising they’d figure it out one way or another, that the problem would still be there after Reid slept on it.

And none of it was a lie. He’d figure out some way to stop this, some way to keep Reid from losing his restaurant, his home.

Reid’s breaths eventually became less timed, less forced, as Nolan talked and ran his fingers through his hair. They turned heavy and deep, and he went limp in a way that could only mean sleep.

Nolan knew he should slip away and make his way back to the hotel so he didn’t end up late for the next morning’s presentation.

But he didn’t want to leave Reid.

Five more minutes.

The elevator was slow and boring as it chimed through floor after floor. Nolan swore Reid’s warmth still lingered, even so long after leaving his bed and locking up behind himself like Reid had shown him.

He could still taste Reid on his lips, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to step foot in another elevator and not think of the man.

Not think of the way Reid’s hands felt against his skin, his breath in his ear, his… tears on his shoulder and his heartbreaking little gasps as he cried.

Maybe the elevator had nothing to do with it, and Reid was just branded into his mind and on his body.

As the floors ticked by, Nolan’s mind turned over and over. The broken window. The conference. The stupid speech Nolan was supposed to give on Friday at the brunch mixer.

His heart sank.

Nolan couldn’t give that speech. Nolan refused to be part of this. He couldn’t assist in taking the restaurant away from Reid. Not when it was all he had. Nolan thought about the red letters stamped across those envelopes, spread out across the floor after he’d slipped against the desk, staring back at him.

He’d been so close to blurting it out, confessing to Reid everything he was feeling. It was too big for words, and yet he was ready to try making them fit anyway.

A fluttering began in his chest. He didn’t have to give the speech. He could make Chance do it. And Chance sucked at speeches. Or maybe there was something he could say, some way he could ask his father for help. Hell, maybe they could find another location, another—anything.

Deep down he knew his father wouldn’t ever help, would scoff at the idea and tell Nolan what an idiot he was to throw away all their work for a guy.

But it was Reid.

And fuck. Nolan dragged a hand down his face. Fuck it all if Reid hadn’t somehow become more important than all of it. He didn’t care how crazy it sounded.

Nolan didn’t know if it would work, if his father would hear him out or turn him away, but all he knew was that he had to try.