Page 45 of Nine-Tenths

Hopeful?

Yes.

Likely to happen?

No.

Will I be filled with regret if itdoeshappen, and I end up fucking Dav on stale bedding?

Yup.

I have literally just enough time to dash into the kitchen and shove all the dirty stuff from the sink into the oven before the doorbell rings. I take a quick look at myself in the bathroom mirror on the way to the door— red-faced from rushing, but otherwise, as good as it's gonna get. I snag some Chapstick from the dish of keys-and-coins detritus as I'm unlocking the door and shove it in my pocket, all the same. Just in case.

Dav is standing on the front step, hands in his own pockets, relaxed and happy. It's a damn good look on him.

He's also wearing a different suit. Did he go home, too? This one is a slate gray, with a bold blue check. The buttons are silver instead of the usual gold, and a quick glance at his wrist confirms his watch and cufflinks are as well. This time he's wearing thematching jacket, and oh my god, his shoulders look squeezable. The blue of the check is matched perfectly by his shirt, and he’s wearing a pocket square printed with bunnies inside wine glasses.

I can't help my smitten grin, and he follows my eyeline and huffs out a chuckle. "Gift from Onatah. She thinks I take myself too seriously."

"You do. Is she also the gifter of the socks?"

"Absolutely."

"Do I need to put on something fancier?" I ask, gesturing him inside as I head back to my bedroom. Thank god I tidied up. "I, uh, I have a jacket?"

I pull a plain terracotta sports coat out of the dry cleaner bag, and yank it on. Rebekah had picked this out, too. I don't have a whimsical pocket square, but there's a pile of enamel pins in a rice bowl on my dresser, and I fish out the squirrel driving a blue car.

Blue, to match Dav.

I'm such a sap.

Dav’s lingering in the doorway, taking in my space (reallyglad I tidied). I spread my arms, give him some sparkle fingers, say "tah-dah!"

His pupils get fatter and slightly more oblong.

Boy likes what he sees.

Nice.

"Will I do?"

"Yes," he croaks. This isn't a dragon-noise. It's just plain old choking on his words. "You look very well."

"You get more British sounding when you're nervous."

He harrumphs, and steps into the room. Dav leans forward, slowly, giving me the chance to pull away. I don’t. He lays his cheek against mine for a soft, gentle greeting kiss.

He smells like burnt sugar.

"Hi," I say softly, kissing his cheek back. His skin is soft, not like scales at all. Maybe Ishouldhave shaved.

"Hello." His hands settle on my elbows.

I want to unbutton his blazer and grab his ass with both hands.

I don't, because I'm not feral.

"Dinner?" I remind him, because if he keeps sweeping his thumbs along the inside of my arms, I'm gonna back him up until he tips over onto my freshly-made bed and get him messy.

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