Page 82 of How Not to Date a Griffin

“Think you’re up to the task of distraction?” Nolan asked softly.

Reid grinned, and kissed him.

Nolan

As soon as the sun was awake, so was Nolan.

It would’ve been nice to spend the morning in bed, maybe watch a movie, distract himself as the hours ticked by with laughter and teasing and lots of kisses.

Instead, Nolan slid from the bed and crept to his laptop, cracking it open and sitting on the small couch, dragging a knitted blanket into his lap.

If he was going to take his father down, he needed to make a spectacle of it. The facts could do most of the talking, but Nolan wanted… he wanted his father to know it was him.

From a business standpoint, he could justify it, sure. It was smart to align himself against his father, make it very well known just how much he disapproved of his father’s actions.

From a petty standpoint, maybe for once he just wanted to see that look on his father’s face, the realization that it was Nolan who’d beaten him at his own game.

Eventually, Nolan’s fingertaps woke Reid, whose smile slowly grew as Nolan told him the new plan over coffee. Reid made a few phone calls on his behalf, and once it was time, he felt less frantic and only slightly panicked.

Nolan helped Reid pick an outfit as they stood in front of the rack of chaotically-organized clothes. Lots of graphic print tees, jeans, and a million different colored button-ups.

It was domestic, Nolan thought as he shuffled through the clothes, Reid’s gaze a spotlight on his shoulders.

They didn’t talk about it.

Reid went with Nolan back to the hotel, eyes peeled for his father. They made it safely. Nolan got dressed.

“Which tie do you think says fuck you the most?” Nolan asked with false bravado.

“The fuchsia one, obviously,” Reid answered, closer than Nolan had expected.

His hands slid around Nolan’s waist, holding him still, and pulled the bright tie from his hand.

“Doesn’t seem like… too much, does it?” Nolan asked.

“Seems like a party tie.”

He doubted his father would see this afternoon as a celebration.

“C’mere,” Reid said, and pulled him face to face. He looped the tie around his neck and began tying it for him, fingers moving slowly but deftly. He squinted at Nolan’s collarbone, hands hesitating before unlooping and relooping the shiny fabric.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “This always looks so romantic in movies.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Nolan asked, lips twitching and heart swelling with such warm fondness he couldn’t breathe.

“In theory,” he answered, distracted. Reid tilted his head, tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips in concentration.

God, he was cute.

It hit him again with a kick to the solar plexus, how tragic it was that their time together was dwindling to nothing.

They didn’t talk about it.

Not as Nolan surged forward to kiss the concentrated line of his lips, not when he re-tied the tie with Reid’s head resting on his shoulder so he could watch. Not when they made their way out of the room, together this time, toward putting this whole thing behind them.

As the hotel came into view after the short walk, Nolan was sweating from more than the heat. Reid held his hand anyway.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Reid asked softly.