“It’s all downhill from here!” Teri called out. “Have fun. See you later.”
“Where’s he going?” Cate asked Teri as the garage door closed. He’d escaped that question. He’d have to remember to ask what she said.
Tristan had paced the small suite for the last hour, waiting on Dylan to arrive. His bright idea of a date stressed him the hell out. Besides the fact he’d spent more money on this date than he had on his last trip to Jamaica, now he had to wait for Dylan to arrive.
Tristan looked around the living room. He’d had several matching hollyhock bouquets added to the suite. Dylan had stopped their run at Crystal Cove to touch the delicate blooms lining the path. The fact he remembered had to mean something with all the huffing and puffing he’d been doing. From his estimation, the sheer amount of sweat pouring from his body should have made it impossible to even note Dylan’s actions, but it hadn’t. Tristan had been sucking in much needed air while watching Dylan carefully take a step or two into the wildflowers, bending ever so slightly to breathe them in.
Not only had he remembered, but that had been the moment Dylan cemented into his heart.
Since calling Dylan on Tuesday, he had texted with him several times. It took some time, but he finally understood that Dylan truly believed that starting over meant building a friendship, not a relationship. Dylan came off totally awkward in his messages, which was something they had never been before. Tristan hated that and the distance Dylan put between them. They fit so well together from the beginning. At least to him, they were fluid from the very first kiss.
Maybe he was bored with life and that was why he was doing all this. Nah, that wasn’t it at all. Dylan was a keeper. He just had to find the way to keep him.
Tristan did another sweep of the room to make sure nothing faded under the late start. He had candles lit, lamp shades glowing, soft music playing, and several bottles of grossly expensive wine chilling. He had a waitstaff on standby with a five-course meal prepared by Wolfgang Puck waiting on one single man to arrive. He’d even gone out and bought new clothing for the occasion.
All of a sudden, Tristan felt incredibly ridiculous for all this preparation. Dylan didn’t require any of this. He was a normal guy, but dammit, he wanted to romance him into a relationship.
A soft knock sounded from the doorway. Tristan debated right then. Did he have time to change any of this? No, not really. If that was Dylan, he was committed to the evening as he’d painstakingly planned. Damn.
On the second knock, Tristan went for the door, checking his appearance in a side mirror as he passed by.
“Hi,” he said, opening the door, plastering a smile on his face. Dylan stood outside the door, his hands in the pockets of his khakis, looking hot as hell. Tristan needed the reassurance of this moment. He knew right then he’d made all these decisions for the right reasons. “Come in.”
“Traffic was terrible. I’m sorry I’m late,” Dylan apologized as he stepped inside.
“You weren’t late at all. It’s whenever you could get here. You look different,” Tristan said, looking Dylan over, trying to pinpoint what had changed about him. He didn’t think Dylan could be a better-looking guy, but something he’d done heightened that.
“You dressed up,” Dylan replied. That hadn’t answered Tristan’s question, but it had him looking down at his clothing. Then over at Dylan’s.
“I wanted to dress like I would if you had let me take you out. Is it too much?”
There was silence as Dylan stared at him. It took a minute before he came back with a, “No, you look great. I just dressed like we were having dinner in your room.” Dylan looked down at his clothes. Tristan thought Dylan may have clued in right at that moment that this was more than friends for Tristan. They both became nervous, and for some reason, that helped calm Tristan.
“You look great. Incredible actually. Let me have your jacket. I’ll hang it up,” Tristan said, helping Dylan from his coat. “I have a pretty loaded bar. What would you like to drink?”
Tristan hung the jacket on a coatrack and placed a hand on Dylan’s lower back. He hoped his Southern manners kept him by the door until he was invited in, not the panic that coursed through his eyes.
“I swore I wasn’t drinking tonight, but one or two should be fine. What are you having?” Dylan asked, walking inside the room until Tristan left him and went to the bar.
“I poured a glass of wine right before you got here, but we can switch to something non-alcoholic,” Tristan replied, looking around for anything in the bar that was suitable to drink.
“No, the wine’s fine,” Dylan said, coming to stand close to the bar. “I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having.”
“You smell incredible,” Tristan mumbled softly as he poured. That earned him silence and he smiled down at the glass. He missed these little shy moments with Dylan. They were the first things he’d noticed about the guy and the most impactful on his heart. “I had planned to sit and talk for a little while, but dinner’s ready now. Do you want to eat or wait a bit?”
“I’m easy. Whatever’s good.” Dylan took his wineglass.
“Let’s eat. The chef’s a bit of a diva. The waitstaff’s been in here about a half dozen times. It’ll get rid of them sooner.” Tristan reached for the phone on the end table. He picked up the receiver and dialed a number, simply saying, “We’re ready,” before he hung up. “Come this way.”
Dylan stood there, nervous as hell, questioning why he had even agreed to come. He’d known not to do this when Tristan asked. Friends? What? Friends didn’t gently caress your back as they led you into a room. Friends didn’t dress in expensive suits and invite you to have dinner in their room with wine and waiters.