The Night I Kissed Him First

Julian invited me to a university benefit dinner two weeks later.

"Only if you want to come," he said, standing in my doorway with a necktie in his hand. "There will be mathematicians. Some of them are less interesting than their work."

"And you?"

"I'm devastatingly interesting."

"You spent forty minutes yesterday describing a failed proof."

"You listened for all forty."

I threw a pillow at him. He caught it, laughing.

Claire helped me choose a white suit that fit close at the waist. When I came downstairs on the evening of the benefit, Julian stopped halfway through fastening his watch.

"What?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

"Nothing."

"Julian."

He approached slowly. "I was trying to think of something clever to say. Unfortunately, you appear to have rendered my brain useless."

I felt heat climb my neck. "A tragic loss for mathematics."

"Catastrophic."

At the event, Julian introduced me to colleagues as Elliot Carter, an artist whose work he admired. When someone asked whether I was his date, Julian looked at me, not at them.

I smiled. "Yes. I am."

He looked absurdly pleased.

We spent the evening moving between conversations, and for once I wasn't required to guess where I belonged. Julian touched my back when guiding me through a crowd. He brought me sparkling water after noticing I hadn't finished my wine. He asked about my work when his colleagues were listening.

Later, a small band began playing. I found him near the balcony.

"Dance with me," I said.

He set down his glass. "Gladly."

His hand settled at my waist. We moved beneath the dim lights, closer than friendship allowed and more slowly than the music required.

"You're watching me," I murmured.

"I like looking at you."

"You make everything sound easy."

"Only because I spent years practicing the sentences I never said."

I was about to answer when I saw Adrian standing near the entrance.

He wore a dark suit and an expression I recognized instantly: anger under perfect control. Marcus hovered behind him. Adrian crossed the room without acknowledging anyone else.

"Elliot," he said. "We need to talk."

Julian's hand relaxed at my waist. He didn't release me until I stepped back myself.

"Not tonight," I said.

Adrian looked between us. "You're making a spectacle of yourself."

"I'm dancing with my date."

His eyes narrowed. "Your date?"

"Yes."

"You barely know him anymore."

"I know him well enough to want to be here."

Adrian reached toward my elbow. I moved out of reach before he touched me.

"Don't," I said.

Julian spoke then, quietly. "You heard him."

Adrian gave him a contemptuous smile. "Stay out of this, Bennett."

"I would be delighted to," Julian answered, "if you respected his answer."

People were watching. Six months ago, that alone would have sent me into panic. Tonight I looked at Julian and found him waiting for me to decide our next move.

"Let's go," I said.

He offered his hand. I took it.

Outside, the air was cool. Julian stopped beneath the awning. "I'm sorry he ruined the evening."

"He didn't."

"Elliot—"

I caught the front of his coat and pulled him closer.

"I've spent weeks being careful," I said. "Trying to make sure I don't confuse gratitude with love. But I know what I feel when you're in the room. I know how much I look forward to seeing you."

His breath caught.

"And?" he asked.

"And I'd like to stop thinking long enough to kiss you."

I rose on my toes and pressed my mouth to his.

Julian went still for one heartbeat, then wrapped his arms around me. The kiss was gentle at first, almost disbelieving. When I drew him closer, he smiled against my mouth, and I kissed him again.

We broke apart breathless.

"Julian," I said, "would you go out with me? Properly?"

He laughed softly. His forehead rested against mine.

"Elliot, I've been waiting years for you to ask."