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“I know,” Oliver whispered, leaning in close. “I think I’m dying inside a little bit.”
“He looks at you with stars in his eyes,” she said.
Oliver sucked in a breath and shook his head. He didn’t want to argue, but he also couldn’t let himself hope. Not for the things he really wanted. This was a week—a paid job. He had a whole life in front of him. A future he would shape and forge to his own design, and he’d tear down anything that tried to ruin it.
Including what could be the greatest romance he might ever know.
As much as it killed him to admit it, Victor was temporary. And Oliver had already learned too many hard lessons when it came to relying on people to be there for him when he needed help. He wanted to believe that someone would come along eventually and prove that he was allowed to find the exception to that rule, but he was too afraid.
And he’d already worked too damn hard.
“He’s leaving in a week,” he said. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
She hummed like she wanted to say more, but Oliver felt Victor’s presence behind him, and he was grateful she read the situation well enough to keep her thoughts to herself. He handed over his card before Victor could offer to pay again, and he heard his quiet huff behind him.
“I’ll fight you. Don’t make me,” Oliver warned.
“I’d let you win,” Victor murmured back.
Jesus. This man was going to be the absolute death of him.
Chapter9
Victor only regrettedhis suggestion when he realized how absolutely uneven the terrain was behind the house. He’d spent years in physical therapy learning to traverse different sorts of topography, and he was pretty good at it. But, there were moments he couldn’t ignore his CP, no matter how hard he wanted to try. Luckily, his pride wasn’t really on the line here. Oliver wouldn’t do much more than offer him a hand up if he toppled over.
“Second thoughts?” Oliver asked as he bounced over with the bags of food.
Victor looked over his shoulder and was overwhelmed by the sight of Oliver with the sun at his back. He was aglow. Ethereal. Unreal. He looked even more like an angel than he had that night in the parking lot with the lights behind him.
Victor swallowed thickly. “No. But promise you won’t judge me too hard if I fall on my face.”
He braced himself for Oliver to tell him that they didn’t have to do this. That they could find something easier. Simpler. Less important than watching the wide expanse of the Pacific off in the distance.
Instead, Oliver offered his elbow like he had before the night at the hockey game. “I think I see a really good spot. And there are some surfers off in the distance. We can watch and see if any of them get eaten by sharks.”
That startled a laugh out of Victor, who felt even more unsteady after taking Oliver’s arm. He let the younger man lead the way, and they stopped about a hundred feet from the edge of the little trail.
“Have you ever seen a shark attack?”
“Just on Shark Week TV,” Oliver said. He had a blanket under his arm, and he shook it out, laying it on the coarse grass before dropping down. He began to busy himself with the food as Victor adjusted his balance, then eased down to his ass in an ungainly heap of limbs.
The one thing he’d never been able to do was master physical grace, but he definitely had an appreciation for it. Even more now, watching Oliver’s lithe limbs move like he was conducting a symphony of motion.
“Have you?”
Victor blinked, then regained the thread of the conversation. “No. I don’t get the opportunity to see the ocean very much.”
“For a man who lives on the coast and loves marine biology?” Oliver asked with a gentle laugh. “I swear to God, I thought you were going to propose to Pierson just so you could visit the aquarium anytime you wanted.”
Victor flushed hotly along the tips of his ears. “Trust me, Pierson is not my type. He was kind, but…” He bit his cheek and shook his head. He felt ridiculous, considering he’d only just met Oliver, but the idea of wanting anyone else felt viscerally wrong.
Oliver pulled out one of the burritos and unwrapped half from the foil before passing it over. Victor held it between his hands and wondered if there was a delicate way to eat it. He very much doubted it though.
“What is your type? Like, pick a celebrity.”
Victor snorted as he watched Oliver stuff a massive corner of the burrito into his mouth, and his groan was practically pornographic. Victor shifted in case the slight chub in his trousers was visible. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t watch movies either.”
“You’re killing me, man. You didn’t watch movies when you were a kid?”
