Page 9 of Branson's Promise

Me:Drinks and dancing it is for our……date date ;)

Kitten:Noel!

Me:Yes?

Kitten:You're insufferable. Are you free later to call?

Me: You say insufferable, I say wonderful. I'm always free for you. Will call you around nine. Xx

Fuck, I loved talking to him. That night we had been on the phone until midnight, when he’d finally fallen asleep and I’d ended the call, sending him a text to let him know I would call him in the morning. He’d quickly become a part of my day - at least a message or a call or my day would be shit. I scrolled back further, smiling at the message my finger landed on.

Kitten:If you could pick any movie to be a character in, what would it be?

Me:Very random, but I’ll play along. I would pickThe Fast and The Furious.I like fast cars. What about you?

Kitten:Not what I expected but an acceptable answer. For me,Twilight.I’d be the long lost other brother. A super hot, gay vampire who falls in love with the town’s doctor or someone else of importance and I’d sparkle so prettily in the sunlight.

Me:Oddly specific, but I can see it. I think you sparkle already without the fangs and thirst for blood.

Kitten:You flatter me, Mr Bennett. Next question.

Me:Why are you asking me questions? And what exactly did you expect my answer to be?

Kitten:I’m bored at work and this is how friends get to know each other better. And as for your answer, I thought more of something likeThe Godfather.

Me:Because you think I look good in a suit or….?

Kitten:No comment.

The conversation had gone on for another hour, Branson asking me some rather ridiculous questions, but I had answered each and every one with a smile on my face. I read through a few more of our exchanges before I felt the car come to a stop. Looking up from my phone, I saw that my driver had pulled up to the curb outside ofAngels,the wine bar on the Upper East Side that I had chosen for this evening. It was a great place that served the most delicious sharing plates and wines from around the globe and after eleven, the front of the bar area was converted into a small dance floor.

“We’re here, Sir,” my driver, Raymond, said, turning to face me in the backseat.

“Thank you, Ray. You head home now, I will grab a cab for the ride home,” I said, and then climbed out of the car and headed towards the entrance as he pulled away.

My hands were sweating. Why the fuck were my hands sweating? I never felt nervous and certainly not over a date or a ‘friend date’ as Branson insisted we call it. Maybe because, for the first time in a seriously long time, I actually wanted something permanent with the person I was meeting up with. Something more than sex or a fun time, forgotten about once the sun had risen.

When that thought had hit me - while I was sitting in my office trying to read over a profit report but instead thinking of the cute blondyet again- my pulse had raced and warmth radiated in my chest as though just the thought of Branson had the power to setmy blood alight. Could you be this infatuated with a person after one night together? Was that a thing?

It took me a few heartbeats to realise that if it was or wasn’t was inconsequential to me. My feelings towards Branson had developed swiftly and unexpectedly, and yes, this was so far from my usual modus operandi, but one thing I never did was doubt myself. I had learned a long time ago to trust my gut and it hadn’t led me astray yet.

Life wasn’t always so clear cut but on this I was certain. I liked him and I wanted him. Not for just the night, not just for another fuck in a bathroom, but to actually get to know, to care for, to spend time with. The only hurdle in the way was his persistence at calling us ‘just friends.’ If he didn’t like me in that way, I would back off. I wasn’t about to force my charming self on anyone, but my gut told me that wasn’t the case.

Lack of self-doubt aside though, I had sent Caleb a message asking him how he knew he liked August in a ‘let’s be boyfriends’ kind of way and he had rather unhelpfully responded with a laughing emoji and the words, WHO IS THIS AND WHERE IS NOEL? I did not entertain his snark with a reply.

For the past month, Branson and I had texted and spoken on the phone and while the conversations had started off as mostly back and forth banter and loads of inappropriate memes, in the last week - since Branson had agreed to see me - things had been flirtier. We’d also taken to talking long into the night, about work, and hobbies and about things of little importance, but that felt very important at the time. Once or twice, he’d drifted off to sleep, the phone still connected and I’d found myself wishing we were together in my bed rather than on different sides of the city.

Pressing the door to the bar open and stepping inside, I was met by a rush of warm air and the subtle scent of grapes and garlic. Sensual jazz played, filling the place with a welcoming tempo. My eyes scanned the dimly lit bar, until landing on theobject of all my latest fantasies. He was dressed in tight black jeans - so tight there was no chance he had underwear on. My dick twitched at the thought. His hair was a mess, and my hands sat restless at my sides, the urge to run them through his blonde locks was overwhelming.

Straightening my shoulders, I crossed the floor, reaching Branson just as he turned to face the bartender. Using the element of surprise I now had, I leaned in close, resting one hand on his hip.

“Kitten,” I whispered into his ear, then took a deep inhale, delighting in the smell of him. Vanilla, sugar and lemons - like my own personal tropical paradise. Slowly, Branson turned around, placing one hand to my chest, forcing me to take a step back.

“Hey,” he said, pressing up onto his toes and placing a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Great place you chose.” Branson lifted his hand and waved it around the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh no, tonight is all on me. What can I get you?” Standing next to Branson, my fingertips brushing against him, I was aware that my infatuation with the man was far stronger than I’d first thought. Fuck me, he had well and truly broken me, and while he had no fucking idea his effect on me, I was certain one more night would not be enough.

“I’ll take something red - surprise me.” I stepped up to the bar, keeping Branson on my right and ordered us a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from Stellenbosch in South Africa. With the bottle and two glasses in hand, I led him over to a cordoned off area at the back of the bar, nodded to the security guard manning the entrance as we passed. Beyond the ropes were a series of small, black marble topped tables and plush red sofas.

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