Page 4 of The Year of Us: September

Reese

Moving wasn’t as simple as Cory had made it out to be.

After he put his place in New York on the market and fucked me senseless, we agreed a nap was a better use of our time than trying to put clothes back on.

We slept for hours, and I was happy to lose track of time with him until the weekend required my attention, and I was due at work.

“We’ll stay at your place tonight,” Cory said, kissing my forehead as I sat on the edge of the bed to tie my sneakers. “Then tomorrow we’ll pack what we can and move it over.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Cory raised my wrist to his mouth and kissed the place where his watch hit my skin. “I’m sure about you.”

I hummed, wanting to drag him onto my lap and fuck him until we lost another day to pleasure, but my phone vibrated against my thigh, reminding me it was time to go to work.

“I have to go,” I said, apologetic.

Cory pulled me to my feet and held out his hand expectantly.

“Hand it over,” he demanded.

I chuckled, then pulled my hoodie—his hoodie—over my head and off. He slipped into it with a purr, then folded his arms around himself like a hug.

“You’re obsessed,” I murmured.

“I am in love.”

The two felt very similar to me.

I kissed him on the corner of his mouth and sidestepped around him. It was the only way I would ever make a clean break from him and get to work on time. Cory followed me to the door, and we said our goodbyes, and then I was off.

I’d been bartending for years, and I loved it, but I didn’t love being away from Cory.

He wasn’t the only one obsessed, and it was my sincere hope that once the two of us found and settled into a routine, I’d be able to do things without him and still be able to breathe.

That day hadn’t yet arrived, though, and I fought my way through the first half of my shift with a face that probably resembled the one someone made when they heard nails scratching across a chalkboard.

I texted him to tell him I missed him, and he sent me a picture of him and Morgan outside at the firepit.

My best friend had stolen my boyfriend, but there were worse case scenarios to be had there. I was thankful they got along so well, even if I always worried about them scheming and plotting whenever they were alone.

Three men bustled in and made room for themselves at the end of the bar, and I headed down there, slapping my hand against the bar top when I reached them.

“What can I get you three?” I asked, looking from one to the other to the third. “Oh, shit. Jason.”

Jason smiled at me, a low heat coloring his cheeks. He had his shoulder-length hair tied back in a messy bun at the base of his neck and his shoulder pressed comfortably against the man in the middle of his group.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said casually. “How have you been?”

“Good. Good. You?” My stare flickered toward the two men with him.

“Same,” he said, gesturing toward the others. “This is Val and Barclay. This is Reese.”

“Good to see you.”

We exchanged pleasantries and then Jason asked, “Are you still seeing that man from New York?”

I huffed, scratching my cheek and smiling at him. “He’s actually that man from LA now.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “When did that happen?”

“Last month,” I answered. “We’re still getting settled. His friend Kale was just out for a visit.”

“Kale,” Barclay murmured, exchanging a look with Val that I couldn’t quite make sense of.

“It’s a terrible name, isn’t it?”

“For a terrible man,” he said.

“Wait.” I scrunched my nose. “Do you know a Kale from New York?”

“He’s not terrible,” Val interrupted before Barclay could answer. “If it’s the man we know.”

“I can’t imagine there’s many men named Kale running around Manhattan,” I said with a shrug. “But either way, yes. I am still with Cory.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” Jason said.

“So… drinks?”

I took their orders, served them up, and made it through the rest of my shift, eager to get home and ask Cory why there were men in LA who hated his closest friend from New York.

Not that Kale was likeable off the bat, but I could tell he meant well.

Maybe a little overbearing, but most people could get that way if they didn’t actively keep themselves in check.

I texted Cory to let him know I was off work, then headed to the apartment.

When I arrived, the lights were on, but he was fast asleep, tucked into the corner of my bed with the hood up over his head.

It spoke volumes to the development of our relationship that he didn’t wait up for me on nights I worked now.

That even though the need to be together was always present, he knew he wouldn’t wake up alone.

The trust he shared with me wrapped around my shoulders as I stripped out of my dirty clothes and crawled into bed beside him. Cory hummed happily when I pressed my chest against his back, tangling our legs together.

“I’m so sorry we fought,” I whispered against his neck, dropping soft kisses across his hairline.

“No more,” he murmured, rolling onto his back, then onto his other side and bringing us face to face. His eyes were closed, but his brows raised like he was trying to get his lids to lift and failing. I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and holding him close to me.

“Go back to sleep,” I said, kissing his forehead.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said back, words slurring with sleep.

I chuckled, then yawned.

“Yes, Sir.”