Page 30 of Change of Plans

It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

“Great minds think alike,” he said, glancing pointedly at my clothes, then down at his own.

“Why change perfection?” I asked with what I hoped was a casual shrug. Then realized three seconds later he probably thought I was being vain. “I mean you!” I blurted loud enough to startle the middle-aged woman who had just walked into therestaurant behind Diccon. “You’re the one who’s perfect, not me.”

“I’m hardly perfect,” Diccon said, continuing to beam and check me out. “And you’re definitely a sight to behold.”

By that point, I was sure my face was beet red. “Okay, enough of the mutual admiration society,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “We should probably get a table before we both embarrass ourselves into losing our appetites.”

“I could never be embarrassed going out with someone as sexy as you,” Diccon said quietly, leaning close to me so that no one else would hear and resting a hand on the small of my back.

It was a bold move for a public restaurant, but Closed Mondays definitely had a queer-friendly vibe, and the server who’d noticed me earlier caught us and gave an impressed nod of approval.

It just so happened that we were seated at one of the cute server’s tables, too.

“Hi, I’m Emanuel and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like me to tell you tonight’s specials, or do you want to stick with last Friday’s specials to keep the theme going?” He winked, and I facepalmed.

Diccon laughed. “At the risk of courting disaster by breaking my routine,” he said, sending me a knowing look across the table, “I’m going to take the road less traveled and get the pasta bake this week. It looked so good last Friday, and now I get to give it a try.”

“Good choice.” Emanuel winked at him. “And you, sir?” He grinned at me like we were in on a joke.

I glanced at the menu and was hit by a sudden and completely irrational pinch of worry. Diccon had been joking about disaster happening because I broke routine, but I knew my own history. I wasn’t going to overcome that little streak of OCD in one night.

Then again, it was breaking my routine that had finally brought Diccon and me together. Even though Diccon had technically been the one to serve me the blueberry coffee, I’d enjoyed it. Everything that had happened since then, bad but also good, was what had brought us to the comfortable place where we were now.

“You know,” I said, putting the menu down and smiling up at Emanuel, “I think I’m going to go way out into left field and get something I never get. I’ll have the steak, please. Medium.”

“An excellent choice,” Emanuel said, gathering our menus from the table. “After all, what’s a hot, second-chance date without a little meat?”

I gaped, Diccon laughed, and Emanuel walked away with a sway in his step, like he was a fairy godmother who had done his good deed for the night.

“We’re off to a great start,” Diccon said, still laughing as he reached for his water.

“It very well could be a great start,” I said, mirroring his gesture and taking a drink to sort out my dry mouth. “Hopefully a start of a whole new way of looking at the world.”

“That sounds major,” Diccon said, circling his fingertip around the rim of his glass once he’d put it down.

There was something incredibly sexy about the gesture. I swallowed my gulp of water awkwardly, then put my glass down. Once that was done, I reached across the table for his hand. He met mine, and our fingers entwined.

“I don’t even know where to begin to say all the things I want to say,” I told him.

“Just say the first thing that comes to your mind, then.” He shrugged and looked adorable doing it.

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I did or said anything at any point that made you think I didn’t like you or think less of you,” I blurted while I was still brave enough.

Diccon’s smile shifted into a thoughtful look, but his eyes still glowed with affection. “You didn’t say anything wrong. It was all me. I guess I’m more insecure about some things than I thought I was.”

“I don’t want you to believe for a second that you’re not incredibly smart, or that I think the only smart people in the world are the ones with college degrees,” I said, tightening my grip on his fingers. “I get the feeling there have been people in your past who have been assholes about it, but they’re just dead wrong.”

“Aaw, you say the sweetest things,” Diccon said, his smile growing wide and warm again.

“I mean it, though,” I laughed. “You’re one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met, and I’m glad—” I stopped, editing myself and worrying that what I was about to say might be going too far. If it was what I felt, why not go for it? My life had been too full of hesitation and second-guessing already. “And I’m glad we’re together,” I finished, then held my breath.

Diccon didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, stars and dreams in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said at last. “I’m glad we’re together, too.”

We got about ten more seconds to sit there, holding hands across the table and staring at each other like the lovesick fools we were before Emanuel came back over with a small basket of bread and the drinks we’d ordered. Even then, I didn’t mind being separated. If we had stayed too close for too long, we might have cut the entire meal short and rushed back to my place.

I was in no mood to rush. I wanted to enjoy every minute of the time I spent with Diccon. We had a great conversation over my steak and his pasta about how Diccon’s parents had founded Common Grounds with the intention of creating a community hub.