"Remind me why we're doing this again."

Dallas ignored the question. I let out a frustrated huff and glared at the wall as if it was the source of my irritation. His fingers grazed my collarbone as he buttoned the top button of my shirt gingerly.

He backed away and tossed me a tasteful blue tie, much to my dismay. "A tie? Is the Queen of England going to be at your office party?" I asked with a scowl, already swinging the tie around my neck. "I wanted to go until you said formal attire and now I'd like to go back to bed."

Dallas's firm was a generous one that often threw celebratory parties when a goal was reached or a big case was won. I didn't really know the technicalities of the office itself, but since Dallas was just an associate, he worked as an in-between man amongst the four partners of the firm. He seemed to be enjoying it thus far and hadn't complained once. Everyone in the office—and their significant others—was invited to this particular party for some . . . collection rates . . . or something. I didn't know. But Dallas said there'd be plenty of free booze, so I was down from the start.

Until he reminded me the day of that it was a dress-up situation where my khakis and polo wouldn't suffice.

"What do you mean you don't own a suit? You're a grown man," Dallas had said when I broke the news over the phone.

"This grown man has lived nearly seven years of adulthood without needing a stupid suit once, thank you," I snapped. "What do I do? Do you have a spare?"

Dallas grunted and I could hear him grab his keys. "No, Thomas, you can't wear mine. You'd look ridiculous. Just—dammit, babe, this is cutting into my haircut time—meet me at that tux store at the end of your road in thirty," he said and then hung up.

And so the entire morning was wasted on trying on and hating at least one million suits with Dallas standing by like Richard Gere, which I guess made me Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I wasn't a prostitute, but I was out of my element. And then Dallas paid for it, along with new ties, apparently, a spare dress shirt, and dress shoes.

It was a bit tense while we were getting ready since we pushed all our time with getting the stupid suit. Dallas did not get his haircut, which I think he was frustrated about.

"I don't think the Queen is able to make it this time," Dallas said, meticulously trying to tie his won tie. He'd gotten better at it since I taught him how at the beach house, but still had to start over once or twice.

I pulled the suit jacket over my arms and looked at myself in the mirror. "I look ridiculous," I said, holding my arms out stiffly.

"You literally look sexy as fuck," Dallas said, a nip in his voice that sounded misplaced with those words. "You can just stay home if the suit is that much of a problem, Thomas. I don't care."

Only that was a lie because I knew he did care. It was important to him to show up to our first outing together, to set the tone to his coworkers that this was who he was. To get the assholes who had a problem with it out of the way before it was too late. He was mad at me because I was being a little shit about the whole thing and I felt guilty, but not enough to apologize yet.

"I'm not staying home," I muttered and ran a hand through my hair to muss it up deliberately.

I glanced over at my boyfriend, chest warming at the sight of him still struggling with his tie. Even after all this time, I still felt a familiar pang of awe every time I looked at him. I set my pride aside and approached him, taking his hands in mine and moving them out of the way so I could take over. He watched me sternly, not saying anything but eyes softening when I looked up at him.

"You do look good," he said finally, lips barely moving while he watched me fix his tie.

"You look better," I said with a small smile. He matched it with a smirk. My fingers finished with straightening his tie and gave it a final tug for good measure. "I . . . am sorry for being a brat. And that you couldn't get your haircut."

He cupped my face and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss on my lips. "It's okay. You're my brat," he chuckled. I leaned into him, breathing in the cologne he'd applied after his shower. "I'm sorry for snapping on you. Guess I'm a little nervous, admittedly."

I shrugged, accepting another kiss from him. "It's gonna be fine. If anything happens, we can come home and order Chinese," I said, secretly wishing he'd suggest we do that regardless. Dallas pulled away to pull on his shoes. "Am I forgetting anything? Tie, jacket, shoes . . ."

"Nope, you look incredible," he said without even looking up from lacing his shoe. "Might not be able to keep my hands to myself tonight. I'm starting to think you're a liability."

Giggling to myself, I twirled my finger around my tie innocently. "Can't imagine why."

Before we knew it, we were in the car pulling into the parking lot of Dallas's office. I looked over and he was pursing his lips as he stared at the building. For someone who claimed he didn't care about what other people thought, he was pretty anxious about this. I knew it had much to do with the whole ghosting me for his career situation, but I didn't realize it affected him this much.

"Hey," I said, reaching over to grab his hand from gripping the steering wheel. "Nobody's gonna care, alright?"

"I know, I just . . ." And then he looked at me and there was a crack in the bridled resolve, normally so obvious but tonight a bit more hidden. "I'm glad you're here."

I smiled, squeezing his hand. "Love you."

"Love you, too. Let's do this."

We walked into the building and followed the sound of party hits playing over a speaker. I didn't touch Dallas in case he wasn't comfortable with it—which was understandable. Nobody even really looked up when we entered except for a couple that was lingering by the door with beers in their hands. They greeted Dallas, he introduced me, and that was that.

It went on like that for twenty minutes or so. We floated around the room, saying hellos, and Dallas would say with the proudest tone of voice, "and this is my boyfriend, Thomas," and his colleagues would look a bit surprised but try to cover it up with big, giant smiles, and then we'd rinse and repeat. Everybody seemed really nice, too, even his boss.

Until we approached a girl standing with a plate of snacks by herself. Her eyes lit up when Dallas approached, like everyone else in the world when he gave them the time of day. "I wasn't sure you'd make it!" she said, curious eyes falling on me.

I didn't like how close she stepped to my man when she started speaking and I definitely didn't like the way she threw her arms around him for a hug and let her hand linger on his bicep when she peeled off.

"Emily, this is my boyfriend, Thomas," Dallas said and I could hear the amusement in the fucker's voice. Emily looked between us for only a split second before she did it, too: smiled even bigger and overdid the enthusiasm.

"Nice to meet you," I said. My fingers tightened around the solo cup in my hand.

She looked at Dallas and I could see the cogs turning in her brain, like she was trying to figure out "why all the hot ones are gay" or something like that. I felt a warm arm slip around my back and rub circles over it, making me turn my attention to Dallas, who looked far too entertained for his own good. Emily excused herself to go grab a drink. Clearly she thought she had a chance, which only made me wonder how many people Dallas crossed paths with that wanted him. Three, four . . . all of them?

"Babe," Dallas tried to say between laughs.

"You are a dick," I said, turning my nose in the other direction. "You did that on purpose."

He sipped his beer to stifle more laughter, which resulted in him nearly choking. I couldn't help but laugh, too. "Yeah, I did. I knew she was going to do something like that. It was worth it to see you so worked up, though," he said and then lowered his mouth next to my ear. A chill instantly fluttered down my spine. "No need, Thomas. You're the only one that can turn me on just by looking a little jealous."

He drew back and I glanced at him in surprise, my lips parted and cheeks a bit red. Dallas must have relaxed when realizing no one gave a shit about him dropping the bomb—the bomb being me and his gayness. He looked a lot more carefree, like he didn't have a care in the world.

"You're lucky you're my ride home because I would so leave if I could."

"No, you wouldn't," he said with another laugh.

Maybe I was obvious with my addiction to Dallas, or maybe he really did know me better than I knew myself. Because he was right. I absolutely wouldn't. As a matter of fact, I probably never would leave him ever. I was his to have and hold for as long as he would have me.

And if that just so happened to be forever? Well, then . . . so be it.

—

this chapter was weird idk
kinda liked it tho
(spoiler alert next chapter is the
last chapter + an epilogue and
maybe some bonus chapters)
lmk what u think of THAT?