Page 55 of The Inside Edge

The utterly frigid wind coming off Lake Michigan made talking on the walk to their coffee kiosk an impossibility. Aubrey ordered and paid for coffee and breakfast, then handed Nate his cup and the pastry bag for the walk back.

Nate gave him a questioning look, but he only said, “Thanks.”

Aubrey shrugged it off, hunching his shoulders against the cold. Something wet stung him in the cheek, and when he lifted his head, he saw it was snowing—the mean, pellet-like little balls that felt like needles driving into your skin.

“Feels kinda familiar,” Nate half-shouted over the wind, the words steaming in the air before whisking behind them.

Aubrey turned and caught his eye. Nate’s cheeks were red with wind and cold, and snowflakes spangled his eyebrows and lashes.

He was right. It did feel familiar. Aubrey laughed. “It wasn’t this windy in Winnipeg.”

When they returned to the apartment lobby, it was otherwise empty. Aubrey set down his coffee—hot this time, because certain things called for it—and tried to rake some of the snow out of his hair.

“Well, that was invigorating.” Nate produced the pastry bag from the pocket of his coat. He must have been protecting it from the cold and snow. “Breakfast of champions?”

Aubrey accepted his oatmeal scone, still miraculously a bit warm.Okay. Now just… say something.Say what, though? “Thanks.”

Nate gave him a funny look. “You paid for it, remember?”

Fuck. Right.“Did your parents get home okay?” There! That was a nice, normal thing to say. It wasn’tNow that we have confessed our love, please go out on a date with me, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Yeah. Dad’s complaining about jet lag, as though there’s a huge time difference between here and Michigan. Mom keeps telling him travel exhaustion is not the same thing, but I think they like having something to pretend to argue about.”

Aubrey could relate to that, but he couldn’t bring himself to say as much to Nate. That seemed too direct, or maybe just too serious. He felt like if he commented, he might as well be saying,I want to pretend to argue about trivial things with you when we’re in our sixties.They hadn’t even been officially together for one day. They hadn’t even technically been on a date!

Aubrey hadn’t really ever gone on a date withanyone. He couldn’t believe he was thinking this, but he should have listened to his mother when he was younger. At least then he’d have some experience to fall back on.

“Do you have dinner plans?” he finally blurted.

Okay. This could work. He could do this.

“Not turkey?” Nate answered with a laugh, unwrapping his croissant. They’d put so much leftover Thanksgiving food in his fridge Thursday night that they’d had to relocate his beer.

Aubrey laughed too, letting the openness of Nate’s response embolden him. “You want to go out?”

There. That wasn’t so hard.

“Mmmf-hmm.” Nate nodded around a mouthful of what was obviously flaky pastry. A few little bits stuck to his lips, and he caught those in his hand when he stuck his tongue out to clear them away. “Yeah. What’re you thinking? Chinese?”

Crap.Now Aubrey had to research good first-date restaurants with Asian fare. “Yeah, if you want. Pick you up at seven thirty?”

“Sure.”

Nate took his coffee back toward the elevators. Aubrey should go back upstairs too, but if he did, he’d be stuck in close quarters with Nate for several more minutes, and the adrenaline crash was starting to hit him.

Nate paused. “You’re not going back to your place?”

Aubrey shook his head quickly. “No, I, uh, I have to go out.” Awesome. If he didn’t want Nate to realize Aubrey had been loitering down here for the express purpose of asking him on a date, he was going to have to go back out into the wind and driving snow and… make up some kind of errand. “See you tonight!”

He ended up walking four blocks to a boutique he liked and picking out a date shirt. He might not know what the hell he was doing, but at least he could look the part.

Hopefully he could fake the rest.

Chapter Eighteen

AUBREY TEXTEDwith the name of the restaurant at six, and Nate called it up on his phone after his shower and perused the menu as he deliberated what to wear. The place looked nice without being stuffy and boasted a menu divided into sections by region as well as type. So, similar to the type of place they usually frequented.

Which made perfect sense, because nothing had changed. Not really. They were justadmittingthat they had feelings for each other now.

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