Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CLAY

Nicholas's mouth pops open. "Oh!" He's in his vintage gray suit jacket with one of the floral print t-shirts, and there's a purple flower pinned to the lapel. "That quick?"

I swallow, forcing myself to tell him even though it feels difficult.

"Jacob is already familiar with the building, apparently. He wants to see it before he makes an offer, but he sounds confident that he'll want to move forward."

The door swings open behind me, and a few people come strolling into the shop. In the bustle, I walk to the counter, joining Nicholas.

"He's interested in the building as it is," I say quickly. "And he's glad that there's a flower shop downstairs. He wants you to stay put."

Nicholas nods quickly. "That's such a relief," he says, although I maybe hear strain in his voice. "And congratulations."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Business in the shop is picking up around us, and I stand there, totally at a loss for what I'm supposed to say or how I'm supposed to feel.

I'm going to receive a very large check. Nicholas is going to keep his shop. It's what we hoped for.

But I'm angry and torn up inside. And Nicholas not getting upset bothers me, which isn't fair. It's not like I want him to be sad. Hell, I had hoped this outcome would make him happy.

It won't be long now before I leave Allentown and never come back. I didn't expect to stay here, but the reality of leaving hits me like a punch in the gut. I'm surprised to realize it makes me want to fight this good news, reject what I've been working for.

Doesn't make any damn sense.

Instead, I grit my teeth and nod, burying those feelings.

"I should let you get back to work."

A customer approaches with a small vase, and Nicholas smiles, his usual bright mood returning with full force. "Sounds good. And congratulations again! Your hard work is paying off."

With a grunt, I head upstairs.

I feel annoyed. Mad at myself. Unsatisfied.

I set myself up for this, and I know better. Getting attached and relying on someone else just means getting hurt.

Or even worse, hurting Nicholas. But I can't imagine he would ever feel the way about me that I might be starting to feel about him.

Not that I feel any way about him. These are probably all sex feelings.

Restless, I pull out Randy's journal. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I start to read through the first pages again. It's all about Allen, this guy he's been sleeping with casually for years, but only just now realized that he loves.

There are pages and pages about Allen, how fucked up Allen makes him feel. How everything about Allen rocked Randy's world.

That's it. I'm done whining to myself like a crybaby in this journal. I'm going to tell Allen I have feelings for him. It makes me want to vomit just writing that. I feel like a pathetic sap. But fuck it. I'm going to tell him soon that I love him, and I want him to be mine, goddamn it.

I close the book. It's intense to read and hear his voice in my head.

Whatever qualities I inherited from Randy, resisting any opportunity to share my feelings goes near the top of the list. I've been challenging that in myself the last couple of weeks, but I understand the pain he's in.

There's not much mystery in how it turns out, though. I know he was alone and single for a long time, so Allen must not have returned the sentiment.

Figures. That's as good a reminder as any that I shouldn't get confused about my emotions right now. There's an inevitable end to my time with Nicholas, and that's a good thing. Otherwise, I might end up torturing myself like Randy.

Messed up how that makes me feel closer to him. To my grandpa.

The fridge looks bare, so I grab my wallet and head to the grocery store. Under the bright lights, I fill my cart with the basics. Turkey dogs, pancake mix with the protein in it, beer.

Having been here for a few weeks, I barely notice that I'm surrounded by queer people, or that the food in the grocery store is different than all the stores back home. The busier streets are almost starting to feel familiar, too.

"Oh my god, Clay!"

I turn, and Nicholas is standing there with a full cart. He's in jeans and a T-shirt, and he smiles at me broadly.

"Nicholas, hey."

"I don't know why it's surprising to see you here," he says with a chuckle. "But it is!"

"It's the closest grocery. What am I supposed to do?"

He smiles as some people pass around us. "You're supposed to shop here, just like I do."

I glance in his cart. "Are you only buying produce?"

He glances in my basket. "Are you not buying any produce?"

"Bananas," I object. "And there are vegetables in all the frozen shit."

Nicholas chuckles. "I'll resist the urge to put my carrots in your basket."

I arch both eyebrows, and he blushes as he lets out a laugh.

"You know what I mean," he says.

I can't believe we're flirting in the middle of the grocery store. And it feels normal.

My head is seriously fucked.

"I'm about to check out," I tell him. "So at least we can skip the part where we awkwardly cross paths down every aisle while we shop."

"I'm ready to check out, too," he says brightly. "Come with me to the end lane. There's no one at Greg's register right now."

I get swept along in his energy as we walk. He chats his way through the store, saying a friendly word to almost everyone. When it's his turn at the register, he fills up so many of his cloth bags with groceries, I grab a few to carry, ignoring his protests.

"I can really get them myself," he says as we step outside. "And you have your own bag to carry."

"Nicholas, I'm not going to let you carry all of those bags by yourself. I can call you an Uber if you'd rather. But you're just a few blocks away, so let me help, for fuck's sake."

He laughs. "Fine. Be a gentleman. I'm not going to argue."

I huff to myself, more than a little satisfied.

Whatever.

We haul the groceries back, talking about our days along the way, the little details of our work that we've come to learn about each other. He's trying to figure out how to secure his different client bases ahead of this new competition, and it's amazing to me how many aspects of the business he seems to always be juggling, and how he always has some bright idea that actually works.

"I'm thinking we take our farmer's market stand on the road," he says, talking it out. "I've already invested a lot in the stand, so the infrastructure is there, and it's always profitable. We'll hit up all the local festivals and bring the flowers straight to the people who want them, where Flower Hub won't be. I'll make use of my best suppliers and invest in their bumper crops for the events, help strengthen those relationships, too."

I nod. "Seems like there's a festival every weekend in this town. It's a pain in the ass when you're trying to get somewhere."

He laughs warmly. "We only have so much tolerable weather. We have to use every weekend."

It's only when he stops in front of a three-story brick building that I realize we're there. I'm about to see his place.

"It's a studio on the second floor," he says, juggling a bag to get his keys. "Come on in."

The building is old and a little rickety, but Nicholas's apartment is exactly as I'd assumed. Bright and colorful and clean. There are framed paintings of flowers and friends all over the walls. His couch is a purple-pink color that I don't understand. And there are comfy, thick rugs tossed across the hardwood floors.

It's a small space, all visible from the front door, but overflowing with his color and style.

I sniff. It smells like Nicholas lives here, too. Clean and like flowers and him.

"Right over here," he says, leading me into the kitchen. "And thank you again."

I plop the groceries down on the counter. "No problem. Nice place."

"Thanks." He brushes his hands off. "It's modest, but that lets me put my money in the business."

"Smart." My eyes catch on a few framed photos of my building, one with a young version of my grandpa in front of it. "Holy shit," I grunt as I step closer.

Nicholas steps beside me. "Oh yeah. Your grandpa left that for me. To be honest, he left a lot of things to a lot of people."

I turn to him. "How do you mean?"

"It's a bit morbid, but he was always talking about who should take his stuff when he dies. I don't know how many times he promised me that photograph, the big salad utensils in that drawer behind you, this tie that he thought would look nice on me…" He shakes his head quickly. "Now that I know you, I realize it might seem like the entire neighborhood conspired to rob your inheritance. Sorry about that."

I give the photograph one more good look. "No way. A man's word is what matters."

Although it would be nice to live with that photo on the wall. Just cool to see him young, maybe a little happier than in the other photos I've seen.

"I was hoping to get another chance to talk to you," Nicholas says. He leans back against the counter casually. "After you told me your good news today, that is." He smiles. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Does that mean he's inviting me to stay?

Regardless, if I take the drink, I get to stay for a while.

"Sure. Whatever you got."

He puts a few things in the fridge before emerging with two bottles. "Hard cider? I picked them up when Kavya was over the other night."

"Sounds good."

He opens the bottle and hands it to me. I clink it against his before I take a refreshing drink.

"Thanks." I lick the back of my teeth. "What did you want to talk about?" I ask, nervous but also a little hopeful to hear his answer.

Like maybe, I don't know. He might say something that I don't know how to say.

Nicholas gestures toward the living room, and I follow him to the loud couch, which is confusingly kind of cool-looking and also nice to sit on.

"I'm excited for you," he says. "And relieved that the shop can stay put. But this means you'll leave town, right?"

I set the bottle on his coffee table. "If Jacob likes the place, he'll need a few weeks to get his finances together, apparently. It will take me about that long to finish up the projects." I swallow down the emotions that threaten to rise up. "Should be just enough time left to get a crew in Missouri off the ground by fall."

I try to read his expression. He's smiling, but I can tell he's troubled, too.

Maybe like how I am.

"A few more weeks," Nicholas repeats with a nod.

I pull it together and remember what we're here for. There's one thing that I know I can do, and that's to leave Nicholas satisfied and happy about our time together.

"I intend to use them," I tell him, and Nicholas quirks up a little smile. Cute.

"Agreed. And with your departure approaching, we should make sure we get to everything we intended. I want to send you off to build your business with a very big smile on your face."

I growl under my breath, moving closer to him. "I'm not sure a few weeks is enough time to get to everything I want to do to you, but fine."

Nicholas laughs under his breath, quivering slightly. Even though my emotions are best stuffed down in a pit, there's no hiding our physical attraction. I make sure Nicholas knows exactly how much he turns me on, and I have no doubts he feels the same way.

He slides against me. One leg goes over mine, and when I stretch my arm across the back of the couch, he finds his place.

"There's one obvious thing we're building up to," Nicholas says, and his hand traces down my arm. "Do you want to fuck me?"

Blood rushes through me.

Tonight is not a date night, I remind myself. I'm just helping drop his groceries off.

"If you're asking me to spend the next three weeks fucking you, the answer is yes."

Nicholas grins. "What else do you want?" he asks.

I consider his question. "I'm past experimenting. I know I'm bi. I know I like touching your body. And I'm not really interested in bottoming. That doesn't feel right to me, although hell, what do I even know about myself, really? Except I think I actually do know that I don't want that."

I realize I'm losing the thread and take a swig of cider.

Nicholas hums softly, nuzzling close to me. "That's fine. You don't have to want anything you don't want."

I take in a deep inhale of his scent, and decide to try to be brave and honest, like he is.

What else do I want from the next three weeks, my last time with Nicholas?

"I'm curious about this," I tell him and pull him a little closer. "What we're doing now."

He tilts his eyes up to me. "Cuddling?"

I snort. "No."

I'm not asking for cuddles. That's absolutely not what I'm saying because no.

"Slowing down," I try again. "Seeing what it's like to be up close when we're not focused on our dicks."

I don't even know how to say it. But I know it's the kind of thing that won't be so easy to find after I leave. Not as easy as a quick hookup.

Couldn't imagine doing this kind of thing with anyone but Nicholas, actually.

"I like slowing down," Nicholas says. He sits up. "Just touching. Can I take your shirt off?"

I blink. Am I about to get laid?

"For slow touching," he says, reading my mind. "Nothing more than some skin contact."

My heart is beating in my ears. "Okay."

Nicholas pulls my shirt off, gently tossing it aside. A second later, his shirt comes off, too, and he curls against me, bare chest to bare chest.

"Don't worry," he murmurs. "This isn't a cuddle."

I cough out a laugh. "Good," I say, pulling him closer. "I've got a reputation to maintain."

Nicholas takes in a deep breath, and I feel it through my body as he lets it out slowly. I ease into a more comfortable position, and we stay like that, sprawled on the bright couch, houseplants around us.

And yeah. This is the kind of thing I'm still curious about. Because I don't know that I've felt this way before.

"What's left on your list?" I ask. "You can't keep me guessing forever about your fantasies."

"No, but I can keep a surprise or two, right?"

Damn, that's hot.

"I normally hate surprises. But in this case, I'll take it."

He laughs. "Good." His face goes closer to the crook of my neck, and I feel his breath on my skin. "You're going to pursue your dreams, Clay. I see how hard you work, and I know what your craft means to you. I'm really happy for you."

"I'll celebrate when it's all done. But yeah. It's looking good. And this guy cares about the gayborhood. That's why he wants to move here from downtown. He'll be a good neighbor and take care of the place."

"I'm more than a little relieved." He rubs his hand across my chest. "Look at that," he says, not entirely enthusiastic. "Everything is turning out just like we hoped."

"I'll be relieved when you don't get too bad of a rent hike."

"I'm going to have some new financial realities to face, but Flower Hub is the big factor in that. Not you. You didn't have to consider my situation as you made your decisions, but you did. I'm grateful."

I'm glad he sees it that way, but I still feel like I owe him something. Or maybe like we owe each other a whole lot.

Nicholas drags his hands down to my hips. I'm hard, and I suck in a breath, his hand only inches from my bulge.

Slow touching. Nothing more.

"Just because I didn't fuck you over, that doesn't mean I deserve an award," I tell him.

"Oh, I think we're going to earn plenty of awards before you leave town."

I chuckle, and Nicholas strokes my chest.

"I don't know about awards, but I've been doing pretty good. Haven't had a single freakout, in case you didn't notice."

"At all the gay sex and butt stuff, you mean?"

I cup his ass and hitch him closer with a growl. "Say butt stuff again."

Nicholas laughs, and I keep my hand on his ass.

"You're getting off easy," he says. "Everything we do happens behind closed doors. You might not shy away from a rim job, but what if I tried to kiss you in the grocery store? Or asked you to dance with me at the bar?"

"You do shit like that all the time," I point out. "You hook your arm with mine, and you kiss the air around my face. You squeezed my bicep in front of the bagel truck line yesterday."

"I'm affectionate with my friends. That's different."

"Okay," I admit. "I'm not a touchy person, though. I don't… touch. People. Or dance with them. Especially not in front of other people."

He laughs. "I know. And you're right. You get credit for enduring casual affection in public. You've succeeded at all of your gay experiments." His hand drifts back to him as he lies against me. "You'd be adorably hot dancing in public, by the way. I know you aren't looking for love. But if someday down the road someone manages to force you to dance, please send me a video."

I grunt. "It wouldn't be that bad."

"No, it would be that good."

I grumble, but I'm smiling.

"Speaking of not dancing, do you want to come to my thirtieth birthday party? Half the neighborhood will be there. It's an afternoon garden type of event with a bar and catering."

I wrinkle my brow. "You want me to come?"

"Like I said, no expectations for dancing, gifts, or anything sentimental. But it would be nice to have you there with my other friends, if you're free and up for that kind of thing."

He might as well ask me to walk into a volcano, but I don't want to disappoint him.

"Maybe. Send me the details, and I'll think about it."

With a short nod, Nicholas leans up. "We should probably get the groceries in the fridge, right?"

I sit up, too. I'm dazed. Disoriented like I just woke up from a dream.

"Right. Groceries." I pull my shirt on. "You still coming by my place tomorrow night?"

"That's the plan," he says happily.

I nod. "Good." Before I stand up and totally break the spell, I pull Nicholas close again and take him in one slow, deep kiss.

Our time is about to end, and I need to savor what I can.