Page 11

Chapter Eleven

GRAHAM

Tyler’s going on a date with me.

It only took a month, multiple attempts, and some magic to get him to agree. I shouldn’t be this excited, especially with how hard he made me work, but I can’t shake the feeling that we could be something special if given the chance.

I know, cart before horse. Yet, every cell in my body screams that Tyler’s special. It’s impossible to ignore how often he crosses my mind or how I feel when he’s in the same room. He makes the whole room a little brighter, making it impossible for me to look away. Anytime I’m near him, my fingers itch to reach out and touch him. It’s not about the sex, though. Okay, it’s a little about sex, but it’s more than that. There’s a spark between us that ignited during those five minutes of speed dating, and it’s been burning slowly since. Something tells me if we ever got it together, it would turn into a scorching fire, burning hot and bright.

Maybe I’m a sappy romantic. If so, it’s my mother’s fault for reading me so many romance novels before bed. Nothing explicit. Mostly classics. Jane Eyre. Pride and Prejudice. I think I first realized I was bi when I wanted both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet.

I pull up in front of the address Tyler texted me. It’s one of those fancy apartment buildings with a doorman in the lobby. I double-check the address. Not that I don’t think he could live somewhere like this, but it seems off for his style. I expected somewhere… hipper? This place feels too corporate.

I’m about to text to ask about getting into the building when he exits the front door. He looks over his shoulder and says something to the man behind the lobby desk. I can’t see Tyler’s face, but the other man laughs before waving Tyler off.

“Hey,” Tyler says as he climbs in my car. He’s wearing dark-wash jeans and the leather jacket I love.

“Hey. Are you all set?” I glance over to make sure he’s settled and has his seatbelt on.

“Yeah. Am I dressed okay? I didn’t know what to wear.”

I purposefully didn’t tell him where we’re going. I want it to be a bit of a surprise. It took me a long time to come up with an idea that isn’t dinner and a movie. Instead, I found something that allows us to be occupied while getting to know one another. If the conversation stalls, we can focus on the activity. Plus, I get the feeling that having something tactile to focus on will help Tyler relax.

“You look perfect.” I pull into traffic and head toward the outskirts of the city. It’s not a long drive, only about twenty minutes, but it seems to stretch out forever. The silence between us lingers, and the longer it’s quiet, the harder it is to say something. Everything that pops into my head feels awkward and boring, unworthy of breaking the silence.

“So, um, how was your day?” Tyler asks as we turn onto one of the major roads, finally free of the endless one-ways in his neighborhood and downtown.

“Not too bad. A few school groups came through, which means I spent the day talking to them rather than staring at my computer screen.” I didn’t miss the spreadsheets at all. My email, on the other hand, would need a lot of attention tomorrow.

“Do you like doing that? Talking to the kids?”

“I love it. I’m still learning about the organization, but getting the kids interested in the work we do is fun. They love seeing the garden and the way vegetables look before they end up in the grocery store.” He looks away when I say it. If I could see his face, I’m sure it would be bright red.

“I probably hadn’t either before I started volunteering. Maybe in a book or something. My family never had a big enough backyard to garden.”

“We always had a small patch in the backyard when I was a kid, but my mom mostly used it for flowers. A few years, we managed to grow strawberries though.” The tulips are still her pride and joy every year. She spends half the spring fretting over whether they’ll emerge too early and get caught in a late-spring frost.

“Is this Hoppy Friends?” Tyler asks before I can turn into the parking lot.

“You’ve been here?” The brewery has good reviews. I’d seen their beers on tap in various restaurants around town but never tried one.

“Once, a few years ago, when they first opened.” I’m a little disappointed it isn’t a new place for him, but I still have a few surprises up my sleeve. “They have great beer. I always get their pilsner when it’s available at restaurants.” The disappointment lifts. If nothing else, he appreciates my taste in beer.

Or at least the taste of the people holding the event tonight.

Walking inside, we’re immediately met by an overeager hostess with a clipboard.

“Are you guys here for the terrarium class?”

Tyler’s head snaps toward me, and I can’t help but grin.

“Yeah, it’s under Graham Stevens.”

“Perfect.” The hostess crosses our names off the list and shoves the clipboard under her arm. “Here are your drink tickets. You get two free drinks each as part of the course. Feel free to grab a beer from the bar and head to the room at the back.” She points across the space toward a set of propped-open double doors. “You can take any spot that’s open at one of the tables. The instructor will come around to answer any questions before the class starts. You’ve got about ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking the tickets from her and nodding toward the bar. Tyler follows me to the counter, where we turn in two tickets for drinks. A pilsner for him and a stout for me.

The back room is filled with plants and supplies, but only a few people. We slip into a couple of spots at the end of one of the tables.

“Are we making terrariums?” He picks up the sheet of paper on the table and skims the directions. “Making? Planting?”

“Well, we’re here for their terrarium class.” I bump my knee against his, wanting to keep some physical contact between us. A few seconds pass as I wait to see if he’ll pull away from my touch. When he doesn’t, I let out a breath and relax enough to take a few sips of my stout.

It’ll be a miracle if my terrarium makes it to the end of the week. The only plants that thrive under my care are made of wood or silk. The only reason Gulliver is surviving is because he screams if I don’t feed him. Unless the terrarium figures out how to beg, it’s probably done for. The way Tyler studies the handout and inspects the materials makes me think I picked the right activity. Thank God for the pop-up ad I saw on the Cardinal Falls webpage. Who knew stuff like this even existed?

We sip our beers and postulate about what the instructor will have us doing this evening while we wait. A few other people stroll in, taking empty seats and making themselves comfortable.

“Alright, we’re going to get started with tonight’s event.” A tall man claps his hands together in the center of the room, pulling everyone’s attention. He’s wearing baggy pants that look like they belong in a yoga class and a Hoppy Friends Brewery t-shirt. “Thanks for joining us. As you know, you’ll each be making your own terrarium this evening. At night’s end, you’ll be able to take your creation home along with a set of fool-proof care instructions.”

Tyler glances my way and smiles nervously. When he turns back to look at our instructor, his thigh presses more firmly against mine.

“My name’s Chad. If you have any questions while we work through tonight’s project, please feel free to ask. I’m here to help you get the most out of the experience.” Chad makes eye contact around the room with anyone looking at him. The whole spiel is a bit over-the-top scripted. I’m hoping that once the first directions are done, Chad will be quiet and let us work in peace. “Now, the first bit of this has a lot of instructions and setup, but once we get into the more creative pieces, you’ll have much more freedom. Before we get too far in, why doesn’t everyone grab a vessel.” He points toward a table against the wall covered in glass bowls and jars. “Think about where you’re going to put this in your home. Some are bigger or wider and may be hard to fit in smaller spaces. While grabbing your container, feel free to stop at the bar so you have a full beer in front of you before we start.”

Tyler leaps from his seat before anyone else and rushes to get the first pick of the containers. I shake my head in amusement. I never would’ve guessed he had all that excitement bottled up inside.

He grabs the largest bowl off the table without so much as a glance at the other options. It’s big enough to play host to an aquarium full of fish instead of a few plants. When he turns back, he gives me a sheepish look. Whatever’s going through his mind doesn’t stop him from returning his prize to the table, clutching it like a football.

“Sorry, I saw this one earlier and wanted to make sure I got it.” He sets it down in front of him and adjusts it a few times until it is centered in front of his seat.

“Want to pick one out for me?” I know nothing about plants other than they need sunlight and water. Even knowing that, I still mess it up every time. Probably for the best with how often I move around.

“Are you sure?”

“I think you can do a much better job picking the best one.”

“I don’t think there’s a best one.” He gives his container a quick look. “I would pick one with a big opening. That will make it easier to work in tonight instead of having to be gentle when you’re putting things inside.”

I hum my understanding and make my way over to the choices, sensing Tyler isn’t up for choosing mine for me. Only a handful of options remain, but I find a small teardrop-shaped vase that will be small enough to move around easily but big enough to work in tonight. Maybe taking his advice will win me a few brownie points.

When I return to the table, Tyler inspects my choice and gives me a nod. I beam with his approval. So far, the night is off to a great start.

“Okay, looks like everyone’s got their container. We’re going to start by getting the rocks and soil situated. Go ahead and put a few scoops of the big rocks you see on the table into the bottom of your terrarium.” Chad walks over to our table and holds up the rocks to demonstrate. “These will help with drainage in your terrarium. You want probably about an inch at the bottom. You can get away with less if you have a tiny container.”

The room quiets except for the sound of the stones clinking against glass as everyone focuses on following directions and arranging the bottoms of our vessels. As we start to finish, Chad talks us through the next step—cutting out a mesh disk to go on top of the stones to separate the layers and then putting in our potting mix.

Honestly, I have no idea what he’s saying most of the time. There’s a lot of information about making sure the layers don’t run together. None of it makes any sense to me. I thought we’d put a few seeds in a pot with dirt and call it a day.

I wouldn’t say that to Tyler. The sheer focus on his face is incredible as he soaks up every word of Chad’s directions and carefully sets up the layers in his terrarium. I’ve seen him at work and in the garden, but it’s always in meetings or discussions with others. As he works on his project, the world around him fades away. He may even have forgotten that we are, in fact, on a date.

I watch him work on his terrarium. His tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth when he focuses on getting something just right, fills me with warm, fuzzy feelings. For the last month, I’ve been unsure if pursuing Tyler was the right thing to do. Those doubts drift away as we work alongside each other. Even if my creation looks like something a toddler threw together at preschool, I’ll be reminded of this night every time I look at it.

TYLER

Tonight is surprisingly fun.

Not that I didn’t think a date with Graham would be fun, but dates usually end up being stuffy. Or at least that’s how I remember them. Dinners filled with awkward conversations. Movies with uncomfortable handholding over a popcorn bucket.

Tonight is genuinely fun. Even if Chad is a bit of a douche. As soon as the group of girls here for a bachelorette function started flirting with him, he aimed his full attention toward their table.

That’s fine. I can likely do it better myself. When Chad gives permission for us to go after the moss and plants, I jump at the opportunity to grab what I want.

“Would you grab plants for me?” Graham asks. His little terrarium is shaping up well. It’s taken sitting on my hands a few times not to grab it and make corrections. He’ll never know, but I think I should get credit for that. “Whatever’s easiest to care for, and I can grab us another round of beers while you do that.”

“Okay, I’ll take another pilsner.” I tip my glass back to finish the last sip and hand my empty glass over to Graham.

“I’ll be right back.” As he leaves the room, I can’t tear my gaze away from his ass. He might fill out his suit pants nicely, but that ass is meant for tight jeans. It’s a shame he rarely wears them. Maybe I can change that.

When he’s gone, I quickly pick out moss and succulents for each of us. The info sheets on the table have information about each of the varieties, including care instructions, as well as a few suggestions for things that go well together.

Looking over the table full of greenery, I try to imagine what would look best in Graham’s home. The last time I was there, my focus wasn’t exactly on the décor.

I pick out what I want, mostly moss that’s hearty enough to withstand being ignored and a couple of plants. There are also figurines, bigger rocks, and other add-ins. I spy several that I want for my own terrarium and grab those, plus a few I think Graham will like. I want his to be a surprise, so I pocket the figurines for a little later.

When everything I want is piled on a tray, I carry it back over to the table. Graham arrives at almost the same time with my beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

“Did you save me any plants?” he asks as he slides my glass over to me. The massive pile of greenery in front of me doesn’t look like I plan to share. Maybe I overdid it? I could still put some back. Or offer it to others who are nearby? Pretend I grabbed a big plate for the whole table? “Or are we sharing that pile?”

“Sharing. If you like any of them.” I make sure to tack that last part on in case he doesn’t like my choices.

“They all look like plants to me.”

“You really can’t see a difference between them?” I raise my eyebrow as he throws a leg over the bench and sits beside me. Is it my imagination, or is he sitting closer this time? He’s already kept some contact with me all evening, and I’m hyperaware of every place he touches.

“I guess I would describe this one as… fluffy?”

I snort. “That’s the mood moss. It’s straightforward to care for and will work well to cover the soil.” He picks up some of it and offers it to me. “Fine, it’s a little fluffy.” What’s this man doing to me?

We work side-by-side, situating the moss and other plants in their new homes. Graham doesn’t have much space to work, but it looks pretty good by the time he’s done. I brush the last bits of stray soil off the leaves of my plants with a paintbrush to clean everything up.

“There.”

“Well, I think you won tonight’s activity,” Graham says, grabbing my terrarium and turning it so he can get a better view.

“I wasn’t aware that this was a contest.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the figures I’d been saving. “In that case, you should know I’ve been holding out on you.” I open my hand to reveal a blue T-rex, a purple astronaut, and a green army guy. “Pick one. Or two.”

“Which one do you think goes best?” Graham asks. This seems to be a pattern. He’s constantly checking with me to see what I want first. He planned this incredible night, though, so he should get the first choice. Besides, I can always pick up extra figurines later. If they don’t have any more on the table, I can find a store that has what I want.

“I think you should pick whichever ones speak to you.”

“None of them appear to be talking, but I’ll take the T-rex. This seems like the perfect jungle environment for him.” He plucks the dinosaur from my hand and inserts it in his terrarium. I don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s created a dry habitat instead of a jungle. His poor T-rex will be living in a desert.

I grab a spray bottle from the table and mist both our terrariums. “You’ll have to do this every so often. Maybe once a week to start. Once everything’s established, you can get away with once a month, but only if the soil is dry.” He nods, but I doubt he’s heard a word I said. I’ve barely listened to a word I’ve said. His hand is on my thigh and dangerously close to my cock. “Um, you should use filtered water. Not tap.”

“Check. Spray the terrarium daily with tap water.” His face gives him away, as always. I can’t find a good response. Not when all my concentration is going toward not letting my dick get hard. “How about we get out of here?”

“Yes, please.”