Page 13 of The Year of Us: June

Cory

I knocked at Reese’s door at precisely six p.m. I’d been forced into the office all day long, but I managed to get to my rental in time for a shower and a change of clothes. As much as I knew Reese loved seeing me in—and out of—a suit, tonight wasn’t about that.

The door swung open, and I presented a delicious-looking Reese with a bouquet of red chrysanthemums. I had money on Reese not knowing they meant I love you, not that I needed flowers to say it for me.

Since our mutual declarations, not a day went by when I didn’t tell him more than once how I felt about him.

Reese took the flowers from me and held them out of the way while he stepped into my arms and stole a kiss. “Thank you.”

Morgan told me how happy he’d been about the flowers. It pleased me immensely to be the first one to buy him flowers. The first one to get him on his knees.

“You look amazing,” I told him as he set the flowers on the counter. This time, I’d sprung for an arrangement that came in a vase. He’d had to use an empty pickle jar for the first ones I’d given him.

Reese was dressed in his signature jeans and faded band tee, but he’d slid a few chunky rings on his fingers and he wore some bracelets with beads and leather cord on his wrist. His hair was styled, and my dick throbbed when I saw the dark eyeliner that made his eyes stand out.

“You’re one to talk.” Reese slipped his arms around me and cupped my ass. I’d worn a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that was the color of Reese’s eyes. “I almost want to stay in and take you out of those clothes.”

“We’ll have time for that later.” I stepped out of his embrace but linked our hands together. “Ready?”

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.

“That’s part of the fun.”

Reese followed me out of his apartment and down to the ground floor where a car waited outside for us.

I opened the rear door for him, and he smirked at me as he climbed in ahead of me. “You know Ubers exist, right?”

“I’m aware.” Once the car was in motion, I laced our fingers together again.

I wasn’t looking forward to when I had to leave Los Angeles.

I’d spent my adult life chasing the next big project, forging a name for myself.

I had a small handful of friends, but they’d all paired off and no one wanted to be the third wheel.

Even me, who’d spent a lot of time avoiding the very thing I found with Reese.

“Are you going to tell me now where we’re going?”

“Hmm, no, but you can relax. We’re almost there.”

When the car came to a stop, Reese’s eyebrows shot up.

“A hotel?”

“We’re not here for a room, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The car parked at the curb, and I stepped out. When Reese joined me, he still looked skeptical. “Come on. It’s starting soon.”

I followed the signs to the paint and sip event, something Morgan assured me Reese wouldn’t hate, but wouldn’t be good at. Which was fair, because I wasn’t about to excel at painting cherry blossoms either.

Glancing at Reese when we stepped into the room, I saw the corners of his eyes crinkle, then his gaze slid over to mine.

“Painting?”

“And we get to drink wine. A man cannot live on whiskey alone. Although I try. Come on.”

I led us to two empty seats that were side by side. The room was abuzz with conversation as the other participants sat and chatted.

Once we were seated, a woman came around with the wine for the evening. “Tonight’s wine is a rose from Mallory Vineyards. It’s one of their famous bubbly wines.”

She filled our glasses while telling us more about the wine, not that I was able to pay attention to anything but Reese.

He wasted no time sampling the wine. She’d barely left the table, leaving the bottle behind for us, when Reese took a sip.

“How is it?” I asked, somewhat curious. I’d been a whiskey drinker for as long as I could remember.

“It’s nice.”

I took a sip and while I’d never give up my whiskey, I had to admit that the bubbly wine was a pleasant change.

“So, paint and sip?” Reese looked at the blank canvas in front of him, and then back at me.

“I’m not really a high-octane kind of boyfriend. So, if you were hoping for sky diving or bungee jumping, I’m sorry to disappoint.

He looked like he wanted to reply but turned his attention to the artist slash instructor at the front of the room explaining the first step of the painting.

Everything had been set up for us beforehand. All we had to do was pick up the brushes and follow along.

It turned out to be easier said than done. The background was supposed to resemble a sunrise or a sunset, with a nice blend of colors. I started out fine, but the paint didn’t seem to want to do what I wanted it to do.

Reese glanced over at my work. “You’re not really good at this, you know.”

Looking at Reese, I smirked. “I know. Regardless of what my boyfriend might think, I’m not good at everything.”

He laughed. “Oh, your boyfriend thinks you’re good at everything, does he? And what proof do you have of this?”

“No proof, just a hunch.” I poured us another glass of wine. Maybe more bubbles in my bloodstream would improve the quality of my painting.

They did not.

More wine made it even harder to master the medium. My tree looked like something out of a horror fil… or a preschool art contest. When it came time to add the cherry blossoms to the tree, I’d thoroughly resigned myself to the fact that I was a terrible artist.

But the slight humiliation at my nonexistent skill set was worth it to sit next to Reese and talk the way friends did.

The way boyfriends did. I still hadn’t quite wrapped my head around the fact that Reese was my boyfriend.

I was absolutely serious about him. I’d wanted him from the first moment I saw him, and that feeling had only grown in intensity every day since.

Reese looked over at my painting again and I saw the humor he tried to rein in.

“You can say it,” I told him, setting my brush down in defeat. “It’s awful.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad, Cory.” When I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, his smile grew three times its size. “Okay, so it’s really bad. But I’m keeping both of these, and I’m hanging them up in my apartment.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’d be fine pitching mine into the nearest dumpster.”

“Don’t you dare.” Reese leaned over and stole a kiss.

I felt a few pairs of eyes on us when he did that and while this wasn’t the time nor the place, it did give me ideas about the future. About taking him someplace where people could watch us do more than kiss.

“I’m keeping it,” Reese insisted.

“It’s going to give you nightmares.”

“It’s going to remind me of my boyfriend while he’s gone.

” He grabbed his wine and took a sip. “This is the nicest date I’ve been on, maybe ever.

I’m having a lot of fun, and it’s not because my cherry blossom tree came out better.

It’s because you’re with me. I don’t care if your painting is honestly sort of horrible. ”

“Wow.” I couldn’t help the way my amusement made me smile. “Thanks.”

“It’s the nicest date I’ve been on because it’s with you.”

Right. Through. The. Heart. Reese’s words weren’t a line at all. He’d never been anything but unfailingly honest with me, even when it had been hard for him.

“You’re smooth. Did you know that?”

“I’m aware,” Reese told me. “I’ve also heard that flattery will get me everywhere and I’m sort of counting on that.”

Reese’s gaze was hungry, and I could feel my own want rise up in me, bubbling to the surface in a way that wasn’t unlike the bubbles in the wine.

“You don’t have to flatter me, Reese.” Leaning closer, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I’m a sure thing.”