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I interrupt him with a kiss. That kiss refreshes every dead, exhausted, or discouraged cell in my entire body. I feel alive, inspired, and detonating with elation in my throbbing, lovesick heart.
Then I pull away. “You know, ever since I got off that plane, I’ve been trying not to drop my G’s. My Kansas twang kept sneaking out anyway, but I was determined as ever for people not to see me as just a country boy who’s in over his head, moving here to start a new life.” I smile at him. “I think I get why you kept your little factoid from me.”
“Wasn’t so little a factoid,” he points out.
“You already planted the seed the first time you kissed me, remember? You said you liked how I talked to you … like you weren’t ‘some spoiled rich prick’, I believe you said.”
“I said that? Oh, right.” He nods, remembering it all. “Yeah, I did.”
“Well, I don’t see you as a spoiled rich nothin’. And …” I smile as I gaze into his eyes. “I like who I see. I like who you are.”
Alan’s face warms at once from my words. I love how easily I can affect him with what I say. “You know, Connor, the second I realized it,” Alan tells me, a sentimental look in his eyes, “the insane coincidence that you, the hottie I ran into at the airport by total chance, happened to also be one of my father’s handpicked interns …? I just knew the fates were playing some kind of sick game on me. I mean, what are the odds of that? It’s like … It’s like winning the fucking lottery. And I won it with you, Connor. I couldn’t risk losing this just because of who I am. I can’t help whose son I am. I was so scared you’d hold it against me.”
I press my forehead to his. “The only dang thing I want to hold against you … is me.”
Alan’s eyes burst with happiness. “Nothing’s stopping you now, Kansas boy.”
With that, I press my lips to his, and ignite once again the bombs within me I can’t get enough of. It may be too early to tell—and I have had a bad habit in the past of jumping the gun with these sorts of things—but I think whatever is going on between us is the start of something big, something incredible, something I would easily give up a thousand top-level internships for.
And he’s right here in my arms, and my lips are held hostage by our kiss—and I sure do hope he’s planning to let me call him my boyfriend.
[ CONNOR’S EPILOGUE ]
Two weeks have passed.
Connor and the boys are having quite a time at Aubergines.
Of course, Connor also happens to be on-the-clock, but not for much longer. That’s a good thing too, since Alan is growing impatient—and not to mention horny—at the sight of Connor running around in his tight purple bootie shorts.
EPILOGUE
Mr. Wales was right. Time does fly, and before you even bother to check the date, it’s two weeks later, that cute guy you ran into at the airport is your boyfriend, and you’re pretty sure you’ll be one of those gross couples who do one-month anniversaries complete with gifts and fancy dinner reservations.
It doesn’t bother me. I’m so insanely happy, I’d celebrate an anniversary every day if he wanted to. Alan fills a part of my heart I didn’t know was empty.
I pass tray after tray of shots to the cheering men, making my tips as I go—which happen to be more generous tonight than usual—and now and then searching for my big table of friends near the front. I always seem to catch Alan’s eye, and he’ll give me this devilish look I know has everything to do with my scanty Aubergines outfit.
It’s apparently checking all his boxes.
He’s got a lot buried in that head of his, and I love the patient one-piece-at-a-time discovery game of finding it all out. I’m learning he loves seeing me dance. I also found out just last week that, of all colors, his favorite one is purple, so there’s that.
And last night, when he invited me over to his place to spend a romantic night, he “accidentally” let slip the L-word.
I pretended not to notice and blushed.
He changed the subject very quickly.
I’m not worried; I know Alan will say it again someday when it’s time, and we can both pretend it’s the first.
After Zak finishes his routine—this one in a suit and tie, perhaps unknowingly borrowing an “office theme” from yours truly—it’s time for me to head off, and the relief on Alan’s face is palpable.
After quickly changing to something far more comfortable, I walk with Alan, Brett, Lex, and Omar back to Piazza Place, where we all hang out in our apartment on the fifth until late into the night, making each other laugh and sharing stories about all the craziness at the club. Alan and I stay snuggled at the end of the couch, unable to keep our hands off each other, which both Lex and Brett are quick to point out and tease us for.
