The ambiance in the dining room matched the smell. Rich dark wood and red fabric with gold accents made the place feel luxurious. Paper screens had been strategically placed to provide privacy without impeding the flow of foot traffic.
Probably not the kind of place to serve fortune cookies, Nate thought, but he couldn’t wait to try everything else.
Their table was a corner booth with a pot of tea and a bottle of wine already waiting. The host handed them their menus and went over a list of specials that had Nate’s stomach growling, then let them know their server would be by shortly.
“They’ve covered every eventuality, I see,” Nate said, motioning to the tea and wine.
“I may have made a request when I called for a reservation.” Aubrey picked up the bottle. “Shall I?”
“Absolutely.” A glass of wine would help settle nerves he shouldn’t be having. He’d been out for dinner with Aubrey a dozen times. Besides—Aubrey loved him.
Even if they hadn’t had sex in the past week.
Maybethatwas why Nate felt edgy.
“Any idea what you want to eat?”
“Everything?” Nate said helplessly. “Rice. Noodles. Soup. Meat.”
“Meat,” Aubrey agreed with feeling. He dropped the menu on the table. “Want to do the tasting menu?”
“You read my mind.”
IT WASprobably stupid, how anxious Aubrey felt walking Nate to his apartment door. He could feel his pulse beating in his neck, just below his ear, and his palms were damp.
Well, he’d wanted the full first-date experience. Now he had it. Maybe it was weird to walk a grown man to his apartment when you lived in the same building? But what else was he supposed to do? The night didn’t feel like it should end yet.
They reached Nate’s door, and he took out his keys and turned them over in his hand. “Well. This is me.”
That was such a cliché that even Aubrey recognized it as his opening, but somehow he couldn’t get his mouth to make the words he needed. “Right,” his brain said instead, calling up some long-forgotten romantic comedy. “I had a nice time tonight.”
Oh my God, I am hopeless.Aubrey fought the urge to facepalm.
Nate gave him a look that said he’d seen the movie too. “Me too,” he said. “Good night, Aubrey.”
“Good night.”
In any movie worth its salt, this was where the hero would lean in and kiss the other hero, and Nate would fumble the door open, and they’d knock into things while taking their clothes off all the way to the bedroom. But no one was writing Aubrey’s script for him, so instead of a kiss, all he got was the soft click of Nate’s door closing.
You utter coward, sneered the part of Aubrey’s brain that made him comment on Nate’s sex life within twenty minutes of meeting him.You chickenshit noodle-spined impotent pile of—Virgins on prom night seal the deal every spring, and you can’t even get a kiss from a man who’s in love with you?
Fuck. That.
Aubrey could deal with suddenly turning into a person who dated. That was character growth. But becoming a guy people would classify as someone who said, “Not on the first date”? That was a full-on identity crisis.
He crossed the space back to Nate’s door in three long strides. He didn’t have Nate’s key on him, but only thirty seconds had passed. Nate should still be able to hear him.
He knocked. Possibly too loudly and definitely too many times, but once his hand started doingsomething, he couldn’t get it to stop.
He had no idea how much time passed before Nate opened the door. It felt like minutes and half a second simultaneously. Time warped around him until the door moved inward and Nate looked at him, raising a brow.
“Did you f—”
Aubrey kissed him.
He could taste Nate’s smile under the hint of mochi from their dessert.
Nate brought his hands up to Aubrey’s neck and pulled him into the apartment, where Aubrey fumbled comically behind him to close the door.
