Page 15 of Hockey Halloween
“Go for it.”
“What’s something totally niche you find interesting? Nothing to do with history or movies.”
I grin because I’ve a perfect answer. “Bird identification.”
He blinks. “You mean bird watching?”
“Kind of. I have this app that IDs birds by sound. I use it on my walks, and keep a running list of every species I’ve spotted in the City.”
“That’s kind of amazing. You keep surprising me with all these oddly cool things about you.”
I shrug, sipping my pop. “It started as a pandemic thing. I needed to get out of the apartment, and I guess I never stopped. Urban nature is wildly underrated.”
“Okay, you win.”
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t have one.”
He lets out a short, sheepish laugh. “I build LEGO sets. Big ones. I even did the Titanic last year.”
“That thing has nearly ten thousand pieces!”
“It’s actually nine thousand ninety pieces. Took me three weeks between the games and practices to put it together.” He beams proudly.
“Okay, first of all, I respect the commitment. Second, I love that we’re both closet nerds.”
“I’m not even in the closet about it,” he says, taking another biteof his food. “I posted a time-lapse of the build on Reddit. Got chirped by my teammates for weeks after one of them spotted it, recognizing my living room.”
“You think you could build a LEGO pigeon for me?”
He leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “Only if you let me deliver it in person.”
“I would love nothing more.”
Something flickers between us at that moment. Not just attraction, but the kind of easy understanding that most people don’t find until they’ve known each other for years.
“So we’re all about history, movies, birds and LEGOs,” he sums up.
“That sounds like a solid foundation.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
The cold bites sharper as we step outside after our late night dinner. Ford takes my hand and his calloused fingers feel like they belong against mine. He feelssafe.
We walk another block, my steps slowing when we reach the familiar corner.
“This is me,” I point toward the building I have called home for five years.
“You sure you don’t live on a movie set? This place is exactly how they portray New York on TV.”
“Only on Tuesdays and during Mercury retrograde.”
The sound of his laughter travels all the way to the tips of my toes. Turning to face him, my hand still wrapped in his, I stretch up to kiss him.
This one lingers longer, being the kind of kiss that shifts the ground under your feet if you aren’t careful. The kind you’ll remember, even when everything else fades.
When I pull back, his eyes stay closed for half a second longer before opening. There’s something new there—dark and deep want. Lust even.
Gathering my nerves, I ask the question that’s been humming in my chest since we left the archives, “Do you want to come in?”
