Page 25 of One Last Chance

The next two weeks pass fairly quickly. The short, playful messages Rowland and I share make even the longest days I spend at work, making up for the day I took off, much easier.

It all started with me getting back to him with the day and time of the date, like I promised. Something about his response gave me an idea he didn’t even expect me to text back, in truth. But since then, we’ve chatted here and there throughout the day. We chat about work or mundane everyday things mostly… Sometimes nonchalantly, sometimes with little innuendos and playful banter.

Rowland has a way to somehow keep anything seem proper and serious even if it makes my fifteen-year-old-boy brain giggle like an idiot.

When Friday finally comes, I’m much less nervous than I would expect. Maybe it was the two weeks of letting everything that happened digest in my mind, or of the casual contact with Rowland that made me so uncharacteristically optimistic about this date.

I picked a restaurant I would feel comfortable in this time. A cute little place outside the city that we’ve been going to with my family for ages. Flamingo Grill has a pleasant, family atmosphere at day, and this cool, hipster vibe at night. It’s always filled with people in a sense that makes me feel like a part of a community, not surrounded by strangers and constantly watched or overwhelmed. They have a nice array of gluten and lactose free dishes, too.

Though, of course, the dish I’m looking forward to the most is Rowland.

By the time my taxi arrives in the parking lot—with me energized even after a day of helping Joane fix all her mistakes and having to work with goddamn Jonathan, of all people—I have completely deluded myself into believing tonight is going to be great.

Even after all the mess, one fact stands: when I’m with Rowland, I feel good. I enjoy myself around him. I like hiscompany. My worries be damned. They are for the future Dayton to deal with.

Today, I’m wearing my most flattering shirt, black nail polish, and the cologne that will make Rowland nothing but appreciative of my lovely sandalwood scent.

I even came super early to make sure I am the one waiting for Rowland this time and make him sweat a little. I reserved the little table in the corner with the glorious view of the lake with the slowly setting sun above it. It’s perfect.

Or it was supposed to be. Until I see Rowland already sat down while I’m checking in with the hostess.

You perfect bastard, I mouth, but can’t help myself from smirking. He’s sitting there and even in his dark blue polo shirt, he exudes the same sophisticated, dominant aura.Can take the suit off a man, can’t take the CEO out of him, I suppose. Proper, punctual to a fault and all.

Still, he’s here for me, waiting, and that makes those butterflies in my stomach flutter wild and free.

I thank the hostess, telling her I can make my way to the table myself, and take a deep breath as I pass between the tables full of groups of young people chatting and having fun. The food smells wonderful and the atmospheric guitar song playing from the speakers fits the relaxing vibe. The evening sun passing through the windows basks the entire room and its ceramic floor tiles in a beautiful orange light.

If this isn’t going to be the most romantic date of my life, I don’t know what will.

Rowland scans the room attentively, nearly meeting my eyes, but just as I’m about to lift my hand to wave at him, he looks down and gets something out of his pocket. I slow my step. He takes out a bottle and pops two pills before downing them with the glass of water on the table in front of him.

Are those the suppressants for his condition?

None of my business, I tell myself and continue. He notices me anyway, so I smile and walk up to him.

“Hello there,” he says, voice smooth and charming, and stands for me. A little too fancy for this place, but he’s endearing, and his courting attitude makes me weak in the knees. “You’re early,” he adds with a crooked smile while reaching for my hand.

He pauses for just a moment, watching for my okay, before leaning in and kissing me on the cheek while squeezing my hand. My face immediately burns up, but I try to hide it.

I clear my throat before speaking. “So are you!”

As we sit, Rowland keeps his eyes glued to me. “I apologize. An old habit. I like to be the first in the room for meetings and such when I can. It shows people that I care.”

I settle in my chair and allow myself to fully process how good he looks up close. The color he’s wearing suits him. So, I decide to tease him a little.

“Hmm…ormaybeyou were just really nervous about us meeting.”

I’d usually leave this outright flirty energy for later in the night when I’m a little more drunk and relaxed, but today I can’t help myself. Rowland doesn’t hide his slightly flustered response to what I said. He blinks, quickly looks down and then smiles while playing with the empty glass on the table.

“Would it ruin my charming facade of confidence if I admitted I was?” he asks in a low voice. The way he looks up at me from the table sends electricity through me.

Guess I’m not the only one willing to play dirty tonight.

I smile, leaning back in the chair and resting my arm over the table, close enough to his for Rowland’s eyes to dart down to it briefly. “There’s still enough charm left. No need to worry too much, Mr. Hall,” I finally say the name I’ve been playfully calling him here and there in our messages. I figured he liked it, but thesexual undertone it carries makes me a little unsure if I should say it out loud.

Well, I guess it’s out there now.Tonight is the night when I don’t listen to reason, apparently.

Clearly, the name carries a similar implication to Rowland. I watch him gulp, his Adam’s apple moving slowly underneath his skin, and then his gaze intensifies in a way I imagined on that deranged, embarrassing evening while in heat that I spent jerking off to fantasies of him for longer than I’d like to admit even to myself.

---