Page 79 of How Not to Date a Griffin

Meeting Reid’s friend did not go well.

“I don’t like you,” John said the moment Reid left them alone to go collect coffees.

Nolan frowned, glancing up from his laptop in the secluded corner of Reid’s restaurant. They were stowed away in the large back room again, the silence of the closed restaurant loud in its presence. Between the three of them, the entire table was covered with spreadsheets and phone numbers and checklists and articles. The chaos of their mission was spread out amongst them, and for the moment, the only witness to John’s harsh tone.

“Excuse me?” Nolan said, brow furrowing.

“I’m glad you’re helping Reid,” John responded. “But that doesn’t mean I like you.”

Nolan tried not to show how bothered he was by the other man’s words. He probably wasn’t doing a very good job of it as he stared down at a bank statement.

“Well, sorry to hear that.” He intended distant politeness, but even Nolan heard the bitchy note to his own tone.

John practically growled, and Nolan lifted his eyes to the other man once again. “I may not like you, but Reid does.”

Nolan sucked in a sharp breath.

“And god knows why, but he does. He’s different around you.” John’s lip twisted into a snarl. “He’s like, glowing, or some shit.”

Was it warm in here? Nolan’s cheeks were hot.

“I know you’re under the impression that he hung out with you to get dirt on your dad… God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” John moaned, rolling his eyes. “But that was my idea. I had to beg him to do it, with a healthy little guilt trip.”

Nolan narrowed his eyes, his displeasure obvious, and John nodded, dropping his eyes to the paper he was trying to smooth a wrinkle out of. “Yes, I know, not my best moment, but I’m desperate, man. Look, all I’m trying to say is, don’t… hold a grudge. He was just trying to help me out. And trust me when I say whatever is going on between you two is as real to him as it is to you. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Like what?” Nolan asked. Because he wanted to hear it, wanted to hear how Reid was maybe just as lost as Nolan was.

“All… smiley and happy and shit. It’s gross.” John wrinkled his nose, turning his gaze back to the laptop.

Maybe Nolan was a gullible, hopeless idiot, but the admission filled him with a little hope. A match strike against his ribs.

Nolan had said just the other night that he wanted to ruin everything for his father, and, well, Reid had technically just gotten a head start, right?

Nolan was still going back and forth with himself in the back of his mind while he scrolled through statement after statement, searching for the final nail in the coffin of his father’s business.

He and John exchanged nothing of substance while their fingers tapped away at their keyboards. That was how Reid found them, hunched over and focused, as he balanced a cardboard tray of coffees.

Glancing up, Nolan caught the small smile on Reid’s lips as his cup met the table.

“And a caramel macchiato with three extra pumps of caramel for you,” he said with a smile that, even to Nolan, appeared soft and affectionate. When Nolan shifted his gaze away from sunshine personified, John was glaring at him.

He’s different around you.

“The extra caramel makes a difference,” he said, just to have something to say. Had what he uttered even made sense?

It must have, or if it hadn’t, Reid chose not to dwell on it as he sat between them and got started on his list of phone calls.

Their knees brushed, and Nolan couldn’t find it in himself to pull away.

John’s words repeated in his mind as they continued compiling evidence. Reid’s chipper, polite tone was a welcome soundtrack, filling the quiet as he interviewed the people Nolan’s father had fucked over.

A headache pinched his temples as Nolan searched for the last piece that would solidify everything they suspected.

The day faded in the form of empty coffee cups and dishes from the kitchen. Nolan didn’t think he’d ever been this well-fed as the sun tracked across the sky, time slipping away with it.

All week. We’ve got all week.

How many times had they repeated that phrase? Let the words offer comfort amongst the passing minutes?