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It was mid-afternoon on a Friday. The school day had ended a little over an hour ago and Ryland was sitting sprawled in the chair behind his desk. He shifted the papers splayed across his lap, organizing them back into a neat pile as he finally finished looking over the worksheets his students had turned in two weeks ago. He had fallen behind on his grading a little, sue him.
You couldn't blame him, not when there was something else—someone else—occupying at least a third of his brain at all times.
His thoughts drifted to Simon again without permission. They'd officially started dating only a few weeks ago, but despite the label they had never been on an actual date. Ryland needed to rectify that. Immediately. He thought of the two of them, together, laughing and smiling over a romantic dinner. He pictured Simon—funny, gentle, gorgeous Simon—across a table, candlelight playing off his bronze skin and glittering in his warm, brown eyes.
He'd been trying to come up with a way to ask him since the very first time they kissed, but life had gotten in the way. Ryland told himself it was fine; he could wait, be patient, and ask Simon once things settled down for both of them. But he was finding his patience to be increasingly lacking. He had to do something.
Don’t get him wrong, he loved being with Simon no matter how it looked. And they'd seen plenty of each other despite the lack of a formal date. Ryland thought fondly of the two of them cuddled up on his couch to watch a movie or quietly occupying the same space as he graded and Simon read. But despite how wonderful those moments together were, he still craved the opportunity to do something romantic for him. He wanted to take him out to dinner somewhere nice—well, nicer, his teacher’s salary could only go so far but it was worth it for Simon—and get to have an actually romantic evening together. Ryland had been thinking about it for weeks.
He had yet to act on it.
But, listen, in all fairness to him, the right opportunity hadn’t presented itself! The hopeless romantic in Ryland was waiting for the chance to ask him in person, his decades of watching romcoms telling him that was undoubtedly the way to go. But he hadn’t actually seen Simon in over a week, their only communication occurring over text. So he really hadn’t even had a chance to broach the subject. It wasn’t his fault.
It definitely wasn’t a convenient way to avoid just asking him already. Absolutely not.
But now he had a problem. Namely, the library books he’d borrowed for his lessons two weeks ago were about to be overdue if he waited even one more day to return them. Which meant he had to go to the library before he was charged late fees. And being a weekday, Simon would be there. So no more plausible deniability for him.
He groaned to himself as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.
This was hopeless.
“Oh boy,” Ryland’s head snapped up as he dropped his hands, narrowing his eyes at where Rocky was standing in the doorway to his classroom. “What is it now?”
Ryland glared at him without much anger, receiving nothing but a small laugh in return. Rocky stepped further into his classroom and raised his eyebrows at him, “So what are we being dramatic about today?”
Ryland rolled his eyes at his best friend, unable to hide the begrudging smile that appeared on his face.
“I am not dramatic.”
Rocky leveled him with a look that said otherwise.
“Grace, you’re more dramatic than Quinn when she doesn’t want to go to bed.”
Ryland huffed a laugh. He couldn’t really argue with that, all too familiar with his niece’s attitude when made to do something she didn’t want to do.
“I take that as a compliment,” he replied haughtily, earning another smile from his friend.
Rocky approached his desk, hopping up on one of the stools across from him. “So now that we’ve established you’re being dramatic, care to share why?”
He kicked his feet as he leaned forward, smiling innocently at Ryland. In response, he groaned again and ran his hands over his face.
Rocky really could be such a gossip.
But Ryland had to admit that he did give good advice, on occasion. And this was one department where his best friend had more experience than he did.
It took a lot of effort, but Ryland managed to swallow his pride and speak.
“It’s just…” he hesitated, searching for the right question. “How do you, I dunno… ask someone out?”
“Wha-, um,” Rocky was clearly caught off-guard by the question. “What do you mean?”
“Like, how did you ask Adrian out? How does one go about it—what’s the procedure?”
“Okay, well, first of all,” Rocky’s usual snark returned incrementally as he spoke, “There’s no ‘procedure’ Grace, it’s not a lab experiment. And second, I didn’t ask Adrian. They asked me.”
“Okay, so,” Grace waved his hand at the technicalities, ignoring the jab completely. “How’d they ask you, then?”
“I don’t know, they probably just asked. I don’t remember their exact words, it was almost ten years ago at this point! Why does it matter anyway?”
“You’re so unhelpful,” Ryland grumbled, fiddling with a pen on his desk as he avoided answering.
“I’m unhelpful?” Rocky guffawed. “How about some context? That would be helpful.”
The other man paused, thoughtful. Ryland watched him do some mental math, dreading what he knew was coming.
“Why are you even asking? Didn’t Colt say you and Simon already made it official? Haven’t you already asked him out?”
Damn him and his awareness of Ryland’s social life.
“Well, yeah, we have,” his face burned as he refused to acknowledge Rocky’s smirk. “But also, not really.”
“Okay…” He hummed confusedly, “What does that mean?”
“It means, we’re officially ‘boyfriends’,”—the term felt too immature for what he felt for Simon, he searched for a different word—“‘Partners’, I dunno, whatever. But we haven’t really… been on a real date.”
Unless you counted their disastrous trip to the museum all those months ago. Which Ryland did not, thank you very much.
He sighed, long and heavy. “I just, y’know, want to take him out. For real this time.”
“But… you don’t know how to ask?”
“Yeah,” Ryland frowned at the floor, feeling foolish. When he looked back up, Rocky was eyeing him with a searching look.
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“Obviously,” Ryland snarked back, refusing to be embarrassed despite how his ears burned. “Now, is that enough context for you? Do you have any advice or not?”
Rocky laughed at his discomfort, but did seem actually determined to be helpful this time as he spoke thoughtfully, “I think my advice would be to ask the way you normally would.” Ryland sighed as he continued, “Just say what you want. Be honest. You know he already likes you back, what have you got to lose?”
“‘Likes me back’, what are we—five?”
“You certainly act like it sometimes,” Rocky grinned, Grace really had walked right into that one. “But seriously, getting all in your head about it isn’t going to help. Just ask him. And be normal about it.”
Rocky leapt from the stool with his usual perpetual energy, pausing as he eyed Grace up and down. “Well, as normal as you can be, I suppose.”
Ryland sputtered and glared at his back as Rocky pranced to the door. He turned just as he stepped through the doorway and smiled back at him impishly, “Good luck! And let me know how it goes so I can tell Adrian!”
“Blabbermouth,” he grumbled under his breath, apparently failing at being quiet as Rocky shouted a jovial “Heard that!” and disappeared down the hall.
Ryland chuckled before exhaling forcefully and leaning back in his chair.
Be honest.
He could do that, right?
Before he could talk himself out of it, he gathered up his things and marched for his classroom exit.
Ryland had made it all the way to the library, locked his bike to the rack outside the front entrance, and was stepping through the front doors before his confidence finally wavered. His nerves ratcheted up as he glimpsed a familiar figure from across the main atrium. He hedged closer to the children’s section, where his eyes had immediately found Simon sitting behind the help desk and quietly reading a book. Ryland tried to make out the title, but even his glasses couldn’t help him decipher the text from this far away. His heart raced as he stood there, only thirty feet away but feeling much farther.
For a long moment, he thought about turning around right there. He could drop the books he needed to return in the slot by the entrance and pretend he’d never shown up in the first place. He could forget about it, let go of this ache in him that yearned for more than just casually hanging out with Simon every week. But before he could do any of that, he heard Rocky’s voice in his head, urging him forward.
He could do this. All he had to do was be honest and ask.
He took a deep breath before finally approaching the help desk, his borrowed books tucked under his arm and what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face.
Simon—ever in customer service mode when at work—caught sight of him immediately upon his approach. He watched him tuck his book under the desk as he looked up at the movement in his periphery, the polite, closed-off expression transforming into something softer and more genuine when he realized it was Ryland.
“You didn’t tell me you’d be stopping by,” he smiled up at him as Ryland came to a stop in front of the desk.
He grinned back as he slipped the books out from his elbow and placed them gently on the desk, “I just had these to return, but I thought I could say hi while I’m here.”
“I’m glad you did,” Simon grabbed the books and placed them in a small bin labelled ‘Returns’ off to the side before turning back to him. “How was your day?”
“Oh, you know,” Ryland waved a hand airily, “Same old. Some of the kids have started a black market candy business, though. That should be interesting.”
“If it’s black market, how’d you find out about it?”
He smiled at him conspiratorily, “I caught a couple of them red-handed in the hall during my planning period. They offered me ten percent of the profits if I didn’t turn them in.”
Simon laughed, a warm and full sound that made pride bloom in Ryland’s chest at having caused it.
“So did you agree to it?”
He shook his head, “I made a deal for some sour skittles and peanut M&Ms instead,” He pulled the latter from his pocket with a small flourish, sliding them across the desk as he watched Simon’s eyes go wide with joy. “I do not need to be involved in a middle school money laundering scheme, anyway.”
“Smart move,” Simon smiled up at him as he accepted the small packet, voice going softer. “And thank you, for thinking of me”
Ryland’s heart went gooey as he watched him glance down at the candy, a tender expression on his face.
Now or never, Ryland. You can do it.
“Actually, I uh, wanted to ask you something while I was here,” he tried to control his anxiety with a deep breath as Simon looked back up at him with an open, curious look.
“Of course, what’s up?”
“Well, I was wondering-,” he had to clear his throat as his voice threatened to crack from nerves. He saw Simon waiting silently for him to finish his sentence from his periphery, unable to look him in the eye. “I was wondering if you’d want to grab dinner, maybe tomorrow? Like as a… date?”
He finished his question with a grimace. Not as smooth as he’d hoped.
He snuck a look at Simon and was greeted with a miniscule smile as he tilted head. Simon paused as he searched Ryland’s eyes—he had to fight not to squirm under the scrutiny. He must have come to some conclusion he found satisfactory, as he spoke after a moment—his voice light, “Sounds fun, I’d love to.”
Ryland felt his eyes go wide with surprise, “You would? I mean, great! That’s great!”
He tried for a smile, but by the way Simon chuckled at him he’d guess his expression was one more of shock and relief than the calm he’d been going for.
“So tomorrow?” Simon prompted after a beat of silence.
“Yes, tomorrow!” Ryland shook himself internally, trying to force himself back to normal. “I’ll text you the restaurant and we can meet there if that works? How does six o’clock sound?”
“Six works great,” Simon nodded, a beatific smile on his face. “I guess I’ll see you then.”
“I can’t wait,” Ryland tried to match his confidence.
⭑✦⭑
Why on earth did he do this to himself?
Ryland sat on his bed, surrounded by an explosion of clothing that could rival the destruction of a natural disaster.
It was noon the next day, Saturday, and he was regretting his life choices. Well, more specifically, he was regretting the fact that he didn’t seem to own a single thing worth wearing to a date. In fact, he didn’t seem to own any clothing that wasn’t at least five years old. He was increasingly annoyed with himself as he inspected an old blazer and realized he’d never bothered to replace the missing button on it.
What was he going to do? He lamented to himself as he flopped backward on his bed.
He could cancel, the thought came to him unbidden.
No, absolutely not. He shut the idea down before it could begin to form. He wasn’t going to cancel—he didn’t even really want to. He’d managed to strong-arm Colt into getting the two of them a last-minute reservation at one of the fancier places near them with the help of his connections, if Ryland cancelled he’d never hear the end of it from his twin. Plus, and more importantly, he definitely wasn’t going to disappoint Simon. He just needed to find something acceptable.
Ryland stood again, surveying the havoc he’d caused in his rampage before finally sighing defeatedly and pulling his phone from his pocket.
He made a call.
⭑✦⭑
Meanwhile…
Simon was staring at his sparse closet, no small amount of bewilderment swirling around in his head.
What the hell did someone wear to a date?
Ryland had texted the name and address of the restaurant they were meeting at later, accompanied by a short text letting him know that it was more of an upscale place. Simon could take a hint—even appreciated the heads up that he’d need to be wearing something a little dressier than his usual sweater and jeans—but, to his great dismay, he really didn’t own anything that fit the dresscode.
One of the downsides of having only left Eden a mere five months ago meant he didn’t have many things to his name in the first place. He’d managed to slowly build up his wardrobe from what it was those first couple months, but he had never had any reason to acquire anything more than casual, everyday items. He hadn’t really thought of that when he’d agreed to this dinner.
Maybe he should have.
He tore his eyes away from his closet with a sigh, it’s not like the contents would change the longer he stared. He grabbed his flip phone off the nightstand and sighed as he opened it, quickly sending a text before he could think twice.
⭑✦⭑
“Hm, yeah, I don’t know,” Colt hummed unconvincingly over Ryland’s shoulder.
“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? This outfit was your idea,” Ryland huffed back at him as he glared at his twin in the mirror.
“Yeah, but now that it’s on… it’s just wrong. I can’t say why.”
Ryland sighed heavily as he turned away from the mirror and marched back into Colt’s closet, sifting through the hanging clothes with more frustration than the situation required.
When he’d called Colt, he’d thought it was a great idea. Inspired, really.
His brother went to tons of formal events—courtesy of his job in the movie industry—he’d have lots of options for Ryland to wear to a slightly dressy restaurant, right?
Wrong.
For some reason he couldn’t begin to comprehend, Colt’s closet was almost exclusively full of the most inane and impractical pieces of clothing Ryland had ever seen. He held up another monstrosity—a highlighter-yellow trench coat with matching pants—and turned to his twin.
“Where the heck do you even wear this thing? Don’t you have anything normal?”
“For your information, I actually get a lot of use out of that,” Colt replied coolly, before pulling another option down from the rack excitedly. “Wait, what about this?”
Ryland levelled him with a stern look, glaring at both him and the tomato-red suit he was holding up.
“I need you to be serious, Colt.”
“I am being serious,” he grumbled back, placing the suit back on the rack with an annoyed huff. “Fine, if you don’t like any of my suggestions, why don’t you pick something.”
“I will,” Ryland replied snarkily, moving further down to where something had caught his eye. When he moved the other clothing out of the way to get a better look at the hanging suit jacket, he felt hopeful it might actually work. “What about this?”
He turned to raise his eyebrows at Colt.
“I mean, sure. If you’re going for boring and pedestrian, that’s perfect.”
Ryland rolled his eyes at his brother before removing the suit from the closet rack, “I’m going to try it on.”
⭑✦⭑
Simon pulled back the curtain as he stepped out of the dressing room and into the small sitting area where Caroline was waiting. He stood silently as she appraised the latest in several different combinations of jackets, shirts, and dress pants.
Eventually she spoke, frowning as she did so, “Almost. But I don’t think the color is really doing it for me.”
Simon turned to glance in the mirror, he could see what she meant. The all-black ensemble was practical, but Simon didn’t feel particularly himself in the harsh lines and polyester fabric. And it definitely showed.
“I’ve got one more,” he offered sheepishly, glancing at his friend as he turned away from the mirror. He’d saved it for last as it was his favorite and he hoped desperately it worked.
“Let’s see it,” Caroline nodded firmly. “We can always save this one as a back-up.”
Simon agreed before ducking back into the dressing room and changing quickly. When he opened the curtain for what he hoped was the final time, he saw Caroline’s eyes go wide as she smiled.
“Oh this is definitely the one,” she grinned at him. “That boyfriend of yours is going to pass out when he sees you in this.”
Simon felt himself blush as he turned to the mirror and met his own eyes. He had to admit that he did like what he saw.
⭑✦⭑
Ryland arrived at the restaurant before Simon, having left almost a full twenty minutes earlier than he needed to. His nerves kept him too worried to risk running late, which is how he found himself directed to the bar at the front of the restaurant as the hostess told him he could return at the time of his reservation with his complete party. He shot Simon a quick text, letting him know where to find him, before settling on one of the plush velvet stools along the bartop.
He risked a glance around, taking in the other diners seated at tables covered with white tablecloths and glittering silverware. At least he wasn’t overdressed—a genuine concern he’d had when he finally left Colt with his choice of borrowed suit. He glanced down at himself again, smoothing where the suit jacket had folded over weirdly. But as his eyes snagged on the other patrons, he felt perfectly adequate in the brown pinstripe suit and matching pants he was wearing.
He ordered a water as he waited for Simon, sipping it slowly in the hope it would help the anxious bundle of nerves in his stomach uncoil. He was fidgeting with the glass when he felt a hand on his elbow, causing him to turn in surprise. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks.
It was Simon, sure—What else had he been expecting?—but it was Simon in a way Ryland had never seen before. His eyes roved over his partner, taking in the sage green suit jacket that covered his broad shoulders, complimenting the warm browns of his skin and eyes incredibly, and the dark brown corduroy dress pants that fit almost too well for Ryland’s overactive imagination. He looked incredible. Ryland wanted nothing more than to take his hand and march him out of the restaurant immediately, suddenly much more in favor of taking him home than having dinner.
“Hey,” Simon smiled at him as their eyes finally met. Ryland could feel warmth bloom across his skin as he remembered to close his jaw from where he had been gaping at the other man.
“Hi,” he finally managed to speak, sounding a little breathless even to his own ears. He stood from his stool before reaching out for Simon’s hand and giving it a squeeze, looking for the right words.
“Wow, Si,” he breathed. “You look stunning.”
He watched him duck his head as a matching blush dusted his cheeks, “Thanks, so do you.”
Ryland felt his stomach flutter as he saw Simon look him up and down bashfully.
Definitely would rather just go home right about now.
But no. They were going to have a nice dinner, goshdarnit. Ryland was determined.
He gave Simon’s hand a tug as he stepped past him and toward the hostess stand, “Come on, I hope you’re hungry.”
They’d been seated at a small table in front of a window, Ryland could have leapt for joy as the hostess showed them to the intimate corner of the restaurant that was all their own. He’d pulled Simon’s chair out for him before sitting himself, sneaking markedly unsubtle glances at him over the drink menu.
When the waitress came, he did his best not to make a fool of himself as he ordered a bottle of wine. He’d asked Simon what he preferred, before being quietly informed that he’d never had the chance to drink wine before. Ryland had wanted to smack himself upside the head right there. He couldn’t have known, it never having come up in casual conversation before, but he still felt foolish for assuming.
After Simon put him out of his misery by pointing one out on the menu—presumably at random—Ryland smiled sheepishly at him. Their waitress didn’t even bat an eye at the exchange, ever the professional, and only nodded simply before stepping away to grab their request.
Ryland glanced down at the table, guilty. He spoke after several moments spent internally cringing at himself, “I’m sorry for that.”
Much to his relief, Simon only laughed, “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”
“I still feel like an idiot,” he groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, fingers bumping his glasses slightly askew.
Simon opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the waitress returning with the wine. The air between them was filled with the sounds of her opening the bottle and their quiet ‘thank you’s as they accepted their glasses. When she finally retreated, leaving them to look at the food selection, Ryland was feeling slightly less embarrassed.
“I just want tonight to be perfect,” he confessed with a hesitant glance at Simon. “You deserve perfect.”
He saw him smile softly across the table, surprised when Simon merely laid his hand palm up on the tablecloth between them, waiting for Ryland to take it with his own. When he did, his fingers were quickly enveloped by Simon’s, a gentle squeeze grounding him and chasing out what remained of his nerves.
“It already is,” Simon spoke simply, his eyes meeting Ryland’s in a look of tender affection. “I know this means a lot to you. And it means a lot to me too. But it’s already perfect, Ry. All it needs to be that… is you.”
Ryland felt like he could melt right there in his seat. He beamed at Simon across the table, no words able to express how loved he felt in that moment.
To his endless relief, Simon had enjoyed the wine he’d chosen. Ryland decided to take that as a sign and finally let go of his expectations of perfection. And when he did that, things really did become perfect. Not because he didn’t do anything else awkward or cringe-worthy—it was his specialty, after all—but because he was finally able to be fully present.
The rest of the evening was spent in warm, lively conversation over one of the best meals he had eaten in a long time. Whether that was because of the caliber of the restaurant or the amazing company, he was fifty-fifty on. But Ryland knew which way he was leaning.
He asked Simon about the book he’d seen him reading the previous day and was rewarded with an enthusiastic review. Ryland listened intently as he spoke, taking in the way his eyes downright sparkled and features seemed to glow in the golden flicker of the candle between them.
By the time they’d finished dessert and paid the bill, Ryland felt as though he could officially call the evening a success. They walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, a comfortable silence wrapping around them as they made their way to Simon’s apartment. It may have been a while since Ryland had taken someone out to dinner, but he still had enough sense to walk his date home.
When they arrived, they both lingered outside Simon’s door, unwilling to be the first to say goodnight. Eventually, Simon reached out hesitantly, finding Ryland’s hip beneath his jacket.
“I meant to say,” Ryland felt goosebumps appear on his skin where Simon’s fingers brushed over the fabric of his shirt, “You look amazing tonight.”
His blush had returned full-force as he smiled, “As do you. I mean, gosh, Si. I’ll have to take you out more often if it means seeing you in this.”
Ryland brought his own hands up to Simon’s waist as he took him in before leaning down to brush a chaste kiss to his where his cheek had become tinted pink. As he went to pull away, Simon turned his face so their lips were nearly touching. When he spoke, Ryland could practically feel the words vibrate against his own mouth.
“Can I kiss you?”
In answer, Ryland closed the gap between them himself.
He captured Simon’s lips with his own, removing one hand from his waist to cradle his jaw. Simon pulled him closer by his hip, backing up slightly until they were practically leaning up against Simon’s door.
“Do you want to come in?” Ryland felt him rasp against his lips as they both parted for air.
Ryland brushed a quick kiss to his cupid’s bow before answering.
“I’d love to.”
Simon turned to unlock his door before pulling Ryland back to him. They smiled against each others’ mouths, giggling when their teeth collided, as Simon backed them into his apartment. Ryland felt Simon’s arm snake around his shoulders as he pushed the door closed with his heel, the sound of the latch sliding into place echoing down the hall.
