Chapter 11

Nolan

"There's no need to panic,"Allie said calmly as I paced across my bedroom.

Her disembodied voice was not helping matters as she watched me from FaceTime like I was some anxious animal.

Because I am an anxious animal.

"Of course, there is a need to panic! I haven't been on a date in like five years, Allie. I need... I need this to go well, you know. Not just because it's Dawson, but..."

Because I need to know I'm not a complete failure of a human being.

"I thought you said it wasn't a date. That it was just a silly bet. That it's just you besting him and getting your reward."

I huffed out a groan of defeat. "I know what I said, but..."

Truth was, up until I'd texted Dawson, I was content to believe it was just some silly bet, nothing to get worked up over. I'd put on some nice clothes, smile, and enjoy wherever we were going solely because it was a night out with the man I've been pining over for the last two years, and quite frankly, I was starting to think Karla was right. Maybe I did need a break, maybe I did need to relax.

But after Dawson's weirdly flirtatious texts earlier about making sure I looked nice, how he'd called me baby... telling me to be ready when he picked me up.

Well, it kind of sounded like maybe this was a date, which I knew was crazy. After all, Dawson Richards could have any man he wanted. He'd only have to blink and they'd say, "Yes, Daddy, take me home and ruin me."

Myself included.

I'd won the race fair and square, but as I second-guessed everything in my closet earlier, I felt more like a loser than a winner in anything.

I'm so out of my league here.

"Then why do I feel like a high-schooler going out with the captain of the football team?" I grumbled as I smoothed the front of my light blue button down for the hundredth time in an hour.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I had to admit I did look nice. My shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows, which I felt showed off my arms nicely, especially since I'd been working out a lot more since the beginning of the year. I wasn't built like Dawson or the other firefighters, but I liked where my definition was going, and I knew if I kept it up, it would only get better.

I stared at my mirror image, my pale skin contrasting the perfectly crisp pale blue shirt and a nice tailored pair of slacks, my dark hair swept back just enough to look like I hadn't spent a half hour strategically arranging it in front of my bathroom mirror. Even my glasses looked nice with the outfit. It was a simple look, but I'd found through the years that sometimes simple was best. It's often understated, but I'd gotten through plenty of weddings, cocktail parties, and business meetings with that outfit.

As I looked at myself, I felt a pang in my heart. I wanted to look more than nice. I wanted to look like someone who could be on a date with Mr. March.

I wanted to look sexy.

I wanted to feel sexy.

Sigh.

That was when I heard the knock on my door, which made me nearly jump out of my clothes and skin as my gaze flashed to my digital clock. It was only five fifty-three.

He's a couple minutes early.

I ran to grab my phone from its stand, Allie's eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Holy shit, he's here..." I gulped, watching Allie smile ear to ear.

"You're going to have a great time, Nolan. I promise. Just be yourself."

I wished I could be anyone else, truly.

Someone whose heart wasn't ready to beat out of his chest with anxiety right about now.

"Right, I'll call you later," I said as I ended our call.

Dawson rapped on my door again, causing an involuntary reaction of annoyance.

"I'm coming, hold your horses," I bit out as I power-walked through my apartment to the door. When I got there, I took a deep breath.

It's now or never, Nolan.

I opened the door and I immediately thought I must have died.

Had a heart attack five minutes ago when the reality that I was going on a date with Dawson set in.

Because the sight of the man in front of me was damn near breath-stealing.

Dawson leaned against my doorframe, the position showcasing his sexy-as-fuck arm muscles. He was also dressed in a button down, but from the sight of it, it looked like silk, and it was a deep ochre. The color against his naturally tanned skin made him look golden, like some sun god. His brownish-blonde hair fell in his eyes a bit, in a rogue, unkempt sort of way that somehow looked both refined and chaotically beautiful. My gaze roved over his form from head to toe, noting that the slacks he was wearing were perfectly tight around his hips where his gold belt caught the light from above, glittering like a glowing sign that pointed directly to his...

"Wow," was all I could say, like a fucking idiot.

Yup, totally out of my league here.

Dawson's pretty lips curved into a wicked smile as he raised an eyebrow.

"Like what you see, Harding?" he teased.

I nodded, swallowing nervously.

"You look... nice."

Dawson smirked. "Just nice?" His voice was dark and inviting, and I had half a mind to pull him into my fucking apartment and kiss him until I couldn't breathe.

But I needed to remain cool, collected. I couldn't afford to fuck this up. I wanted this night to be perfect.

Grabbing Dawson and sequestering him in my apartment like a creepy stalker is not perfect by any means.

I shrugged, collecting my surprise and putting on my best impression of a normal person.

"I mean, I prefer you in your uniform, but that's just me."

Why the fuck did I say that?

I'm supposed to be acting normal!

Dawson didn't miss a beat though, taking my moment of lunacy and running with it.

"Didn't peg you for a badge bunny, champ."

"I'm not," I huffed in defense. "You're early..." I said, avoiding his gaze, if only so he couldn't see my blush.

Truth was, I'd never been into service men of any kind, despite the fact I'd been working with them for a while.

I didn't really have a type, to be honest. The only men I'd ever had relationships with tended to be like me. Quiet, reserved, and most certainly not the type to run into a burning building or pose in their underwear for calendars.

"Don't do that," he admonished darkly as he gently tugged my chin to face him, making my entire body flush with heat.

The flush in my face had to be insanely prevalent and as close to a steamed tomato as humanly possible, judging from the heat that had overtaken me.

"Do what?" I breathed, my voice much huskier than I intended it to be, my gaze downcast.

"Look at me when you talk to me."

My insides twisted as I realized he hadn't let go of me. Trapped in his fiery gaze, I felt myself crumbling like a stack of cards. My gaze flashed up to meet his.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"Don't apologize, Nolan. You clean up nice too, you know," he said softly, his thumb brushing the underside of my chin as he gazed back at me, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Which caused my cock to wake the fuck up.

I felt my blush spread across my cheeks, my instinct to turn away, but Dawson's fingers held me in place.

"Are you nervous, Nolan?" His voice was playful, but enticing all the same. Like yesterday when we'd talked on the phone.

The memory of that moment only made my cock twitch.

Like an idiot I said, "I'm just... hungry I guess."

I was hungry. But I wasn't sure if it was for food or for... him.

Maybe a little of both.

A wicked smile graced his lips as he let go of my chin, and I hated that my skin felt colder without his touch.

"Me too, champ. Let's go," He said as he turned away, leading me down the hall to the elevator, my head spinning and my cock aching.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?