Chapter 8

Nolan

The realityof the situation hit me, making my already racing heart beat faster.

I beat Dawson, which meant...

Fuck.

He's buying me dinner.

Tomorrow night.

A part of me was more than ecstatic to spend an evening with Mr. March himself, because in some weird, twisted way, I thought this would be the only way I could spend time with my two year long fireman crush.

It was just happenstance that we both lived at the Towers, some sense of serendipity or a cruel twist of fate that we'd both ended up on the same trail at the same time.

By the time I caught up to Dawson, I'd started to cool down from our run, but my heart still raced. Dawson nonchalantly held the door for me after he'd gone inside the main lobby entrance. He cast me a smirk over his tanned shoulder that warmed my insides like molten lava.

"Thanks," I said, focusing on sounding like a normal, even-toned human, even though my breath was threatening to catch in my throat again.

"Don't mention it," he said with a snicker as he headed for the elevator.

Shit, that means he's not on this floor.

I casually strolled up beside him as he pressed the up button, feeling strangely on the spot.

Say something, or it's going to get awkward.

"I got out of work early today," I said, like a weirdo, feeling an ever-present need to explain myself.

Dawson shrugged. "Surprised you aren't holed up in your apartment working. Do you even know how to relax?"

"Of course, I know how to relax..." I huffed, fully rising to his bait, noting the way the corner's of Dawson's lips turned up when I did.

He's fucking playing with me. Is he...

Is he flirting with me?

"Running off all that pent up frustration isn't relaxing, you know."

"Watching tv is relaxing."

"No, it's not. It's mindless. It's something to focus on because you need to fill your space."

I crossed my arms as I watched the floors light up. Three more floors.

"And just how do you relax, Dawson?"

He smiled sexily, his tongue darting out to lick his lips before he spoke, and damn if it didn't make my cock twitch.

I wonder just how many licks it'd take him to get the center of my fucking tootsie roll pop...

"I don't give up all my secrets before a first date, Nolan. You'll just have to wait and see," he said as the elevator dinged, opening for us both ominously. Dawson looked back to me with a grin as he waved forward.

"After you, champ," he taunted me. I stepped in without looking back, but the heat radiating off of Dawson could be felt like it was its own entity. I leaned over to press the second floor, feeling somewhat sheepish that I could have forgone this awkward scenario and taken the stairs, but sue me... I wanted to keep Dawson to myself just a little while longer. At least until we'd split to our humble abodes, where he could rethink everything.

When he was in, the doors closed instantly, and I watched as he pressed his floor. He was on the third floor.

My heart thudded away in my chest so loud I thought it would echo in the enclosed space, thought perhaps Dawson could hear it just from standing next to me. I kept my gaze trained on the lights.

Dawson nudged me. "I haven't had anyone give me a run for my money like that in a while. We should do this again sometime," he said the words genuinely, causing me to turn in surprise. Only then did I notice he'd somehow gotten closer. He leaned his arm out against the wall, leaning languidly as his amber eyes met mine. Everything about him exuded sex appeal—his shirtless, well-defined form, his semi-wet sandy blond hair, his dark, enticing eyes. His perfect lips that begged to be kissed.

To be ravished and owned.

I let out a shaky breath as my gaze fell to those lips, licking my own as I fought the desire to close the space between us, to put this elevator on hold and do what I'd been dreaming about for two years.

But because I'm a cursed man, that was the exact moment the elevator dinged, opening to my floor.

"I think that's your floor, champ," he said, his gaze full of heat as it dipped to my lips, his voice suddenly quite gravelly.

"Right, my floor... 911... marathon."

"Have a good night, Nolan. I'll see you tomorrow night," he said definitively, and it took all my concentration to move my sore legs, to walk out of that elevator with my dignity.

The doors started to close, and I realized I hadn't asked where we were going.

A part of me thought maybe it was a fruitless endeavor, after all, he could change his mind by tomorrow, but maybe I just wanted one more moment, one last glance at the man of my dreams before it all went up in flames.

I stopped the doors with a palm, and Dawson shifted his stance, his gaze still full of fire.

"Where are we going? Tomorrow? I need to know so I know how to—"

"Now, now, where would the fun be in telling you? I'd rather make you sweat. Hot and bothered is a good look on you," he drawled as he gently pushed my arm away, and the doors slowly slid closed.

My mouth gaped as I watched the doors close, taking Dawson up to third floor, leaving me stiff, hot, and full of panic.

I can't fuck this up.

This might be closest I ever get to a date with Dawson Richards.

Because it wasn't a date by any means. Dawson was a man of his word, and I'd won fair and square. It was just good sportsmanship, nothing more.

Even if I wanted it to be...

So, as I gathered myself and headed down the hall to my apartment, I promised myself I would do whatever it took to make the one shot I had absolutely perfect.