Page 66 of Learn Your Limits
My knock is a gentle tap against the dark wood of Reid’s apartment door. I hadn’t clarified with him whether or not his roommates might still be home when I came over, so I don’t want to accidentally startle anyone.
The brown paper bag from the Guatemalan bakery I visited earlier today crinkles as I bounce lightly on my feet and wait for an answer. It’s not as if I’ve never had dinner with Reid, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen him in an environment other than the coffee shop. The shop has served as a neutral ground while we rekindle and learn to forgive each other’s faults, and our own.
Coming over to his apartment should seem nice and simple, but it’s not. It’s a monumental step, and nervousness claws at my chest the longer I stand here and overthink.
Thankfully, the door opens with a small creak after a few more seconds, and my overworked mind is silenced the moment I see Reid’s handsome face.
“Hey, baby,” he says with a smile, reaching out to grasp my hand and pull me toward him until his lips find mine with agentle kiss. “I feel like I’ve been going crazy all week waiting for tonight.”
I wrap my free hand around his waist, keeping it there even after we part from the short kiss. I can’t get over how right this all feels, and it would feel even better if he’d greeted me at my door. An excited Reid waiting for me at home after a long day is too easy to imagine.
“Me too,” I whisper, smiling at the image of coming home to him as I gently rub my thumb along his waist. He looks breathtaking in anything he wears, but seeing him dressed up in dark jeans and a button-down shirt has heat building in my veins.
“Did you bring reinforcements in case my cooking sucks?” he asks with a laugh, gesturing toward the bag in my hand as he leads me inside the apartment.
“No,” I reply, following him through the living room as we make our way to the kitchen counter. I note the bachelor pad aesthetics and smile, remembering a time where my old apartment didn’t look much different. “I thought it polite to provide dessert since you’re putting in the effort to make us a nice dinner.” Setting the bag on the counter, I lean against the peninsula and watch as Reid begins to move around the kitchen.
“And here I was planning on being the dessert,” he teases, slipping on a pair of oven mitts before turning around to open the oven.
“You forget I’m a man with a big appetite,” I say with a smirk, taking a moment to really admire how Reid’s outfit hugs him perfectly as he bends over and retrieves something from the oven.
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” A blush coats his cheeks when he turns back around and places a glass dish filled with a pot pie of some kind on the counter between us. “Okay, so you’ll have to go easy on me with this one,” he chuckles nervously, taking offthe oven mitts and setting them aside. “This is the first time I’ve ever tried to make something like this.”
Leaning over, I take a closer look at the food. The crust looks perfectly golden and flaky. The thin lines of steam escaping through the small slits at the top smell buttery and comforting, and I feel my mouth begin to water.
“This looks amazing,Muñeco.” Tilting my head to look back at Reid, I catch his nervous expression for a second before it morphs into a soft smile. “I can’t wait to eat it.”
He sighs softly before shaking his head. “Would you believe me if I told you that my mom taught me the recipe? She surprised me with a visit the morning after our… video session.” Reid grabs a couple plates out of the cupboard and sets them down before moving to grab a serving spoon and forks.
He’s frantically moving about the small kitchen, seemingly unable to stand still as he tells me about his mother's visit.
“She asked about you, about us. And dropped off a check to cover my tuition,” he says. Then with a scoff, he adds, “I’m sure my dad isthrilled.”
Moving to his aid, I stand by his side and hold up each plate as Reid serves us large portions of the pot pie. “She came to make amends,” I comment, not wanting to press for further information but wanting to make him feel like he can keep speaking on the subject.
“I guess.” He shrugs. “I told her I wouldn't accept the tuition check if it came with any stipulations, and she said she just wants me to be happy.”
With our plates and silverware in my hands, and Reid holding a bottle of red wine and stemless glasses in his, he leads us to a square four-person table where there's a lit candle spreading a warm scent. Given Reid's slightly messy nature, seeing how he put effort in making this a romantic dinner has my heart swelling with pride.
“This is lovely, Reid. Thank you.” I cover his hand with mine once we are seated with glasses full of wine and plates full of the comfort food he made for us. My eyes travel from our joined hands, up his arm and his neck until I meet his gaze.
“I wanted to show how much I care about you.” The sincerity in Reid’s voice combined with the admiration in his shining eyes is more than I’ll ever deserve.
“I know, baby. And I love you too.” Lifting his hand to my lips, I place a soft kiss on his knuckles in thanks. Though I’m hoping to show my gratitude in more ways than one tonight.
The pie dish is as empty as the wine bottle by the time we finish our dinner. A sense of ease and comfort permeates the air, feelings I haven’t felt since before Christmas. Being with Reid tonight has felt like coming home. These lonely winter nights I’ve been spending in my house do not compare to the few hours I’ve been in Reid’s presence.
As I’m drying the wine glasses and Reid is preparing to run the dishwasher, an idea strikes me.
Ineedmore time like this with him. He needs to work less hours to focus on his course load. I’m in a position to provide him with the assistance he needs, and I only hope he trusts me enough to let me be there for him.
I want Reid to move in with me, but I know our rekindled relationship could still be too vulnerable for such an adjustment right now.
“Do you want to come to my room?” Reid’s question draws me from my thoughts. “The guys said they'd be out for a while, but some privacy would be nice just in case they come back soon.” Setting the wine glass down onto a drying rack, I turn to see him wringing his hands into a dishtowel.
His nerves are painted into every slight move he makes.
I'm nervous, too.
