Ex-Daredevil

by Zoe Lee

  I was also seeing my friends more, since Gavin thought they were great and they thought he was great too, but I wanted time with them where he wasn’t there too. I went to more of Asher and Lucas’s band’s shows, and only felt a little guilty I hadn’t done it more in the past. Gavin had even done a video with Lucas for his social media, talking about what it was like to be around Barley’s amazing creativity, without making it gossipy at all. The more time we all spent together, the more I realized that, outside of his two cousins and the Barnyard family, Gavin had a million acquaintances but very few friends.

  It made me think a lot about how I’d felt like I didn’t bring much to the table. I was starting to see that I might not bring flashy stories or the ability to have amazing rapport with everyone, but me and my life were still good for Gavin. That, of course, led me to think a lot about the things he had in his life that I hadn’t made an effort in and what he was bringing to my life. The imbalance stung me because I wanted to be supportive. It was more than just knowing I wanted very much to meet his family and brave their infamous dinners.

  The company party—the culmination of our first bet—just so happened to be the day before the one year anniversary of the day he’d nearly crashed into my car. It was perfect; I could do something special and fun at the company party, making him think it was my anniversary present. And then the next day, I’d surprise him with my real present.

  And I knew just what that real present would be.

  This was where my over-analytical mind came in handy, and I spent my lunch breaks researching and making plans to show him I wanted to try harder. Words mattered and I would tell him, but this was a case where actions would speak louder than words.

  But that meant I was worried I’d blow my cover during the company party.

  I was walking with Mia and Sasha to the hotel where the firm was having a modest lunch reception. My nerves were buzzing and Gavin was meeting me there, so I needed to get it together. “Hey,” I said as we went inside, “can you two help me with something today?”

  “Of course,” Sasha said, “what is it?”

  “I have a surprise planned for Gavin, but we need to sneak out of the party early.”

  Mia smiled and assured me, “We’ll cover for you.”

  “Luckily they always do the awards at the beginning,” Sasha muttered, making a face.

  Santos’s speech was always delivered with unfocused, fake heartiness. The awards were worse, handed out by our human resources manager, who seemed like she’d learned what fun and engaging was from a handbook of some sort.

  “At least the food is going to be delish, I helped pick out the menu so I can confirm it,” she added, cheering herself up.

  “Thanks,” I sighed, swiping a hand over my hair.

  We followed the signs to the ballroom we were using, and when we turned the last corner, my breath caught in my throat when I saw Gavin waiting outside the open doors.

  He was in a suit—slim fit and the color of blueberries, the jacket unbuttoned over a black shirt, with his hair in a sleek, tight bun at his nape like a ballerina. When he glanced over and caught sight of me, he took a page straight out of my book by sliding his hands into the suit pockets. The move came with that sly curl of his lips, the position putting the open jacket behind his arms so his slender torso was framed just right for my hungry eyes.

  “Hi, babe,” he greeted me as I joined him. “Nice tie,” he added with a soft, but still knowing, look as he touched the green tie he’d gotten me for Christmas.

  “Nice everything,” I countered, kissing his cheek, then turned to the woman he’d been talking to, and held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Eliott Navarre, Gavin’s partner.”

  We shook hands and she replied, “Nice to meet you, I’m Lita, your boss’s daughter.”

  Usually that would have made me sweat, but Gavin’s genuine, easy laugh and her answering smile didn’t even give me time to tense up. Then Gavin made it even better by asking me tongue-in-cheek, “Won’t calling me your partner confuse everyone here?”

  Giving him a dry look, I replied, “If you worked at the firm, no one could forget it.”

  “Lita!” Mr. Zajac exclaimed, cutting between Gavin and me to crush her in a hug.

  “Hi, Tata,” she said, making a silly face over his shoulder at us. “I’ve just met Mr. Navarre and his partner, Gavin. Mr. Navarre is very smart, I hope you’re treating him well.”

  Looking surprised to find us so close, Mr. Zajac backed up a few steps and blustered, clearly a wonderful father who lived to make his daughter happy, “I treat everyone well. But Mr. Navarre has done very well this year. He handled a very cool client’s divorce.”

  “Is Barley Finn looking for wife number three?” she asked me without missing a beat, doing it to wind her father up, because she laughed happily when he huffed and went red.

  “Gavin is the one you want to ask,” I said with a laugh of my own, since the paperwork had been filed so the divorce was public knowledge. “He’s Mr. Finn’s personal assistant.”

  “I should keep making the rounds, I’ll leave you kids to it,” Mr. Zajac announced.

  Once he was out of earshot, Lita asked us, “Is that how you two met?”

  “Actually, no, we already knew each other a little,” I told her, plucking up two hors d'oeuvres from a tray a waiter offered, handing Gavin one. “That was a total coincidence.”

  “So you would’ve met because of the divorce either way? That sounds like fate!”

  Gavin and I looked at each other, both of our faces blank with surprise.

  Then Gavin’s eyes lit up and he answered innocently, “I never thought about that, but we would’ve missed out on a couple of very memorable dates. It would’ve been a shame.”

  “You’re a riot. Give me your number, we should do lunch.”

  “Sounds great,” he said as he handed me his hors d’oeuvre so he could put his information into her phone. “But fair warning, even three of the finest scotches won’t get any secrets out of me about how great a boss your dad is, or secrets about rock stars.”

  With a conspiratorial whisper, she leaned in and said, “I’m more into… him.”

  She aimed her eyes off to the right, and Gavin and I snuck glances. “Reza?” Gavin nodded in approval of the very classically nerd-chic billing manager. “He’s really cool too.”

  “You know him?” Lita was much more excited about that than she was about Barley.

  “Yeah, I know Reza. I take Eliott out to lunch a lot, so I’ve met practically everyone since he makes me wait in reception. Now that he’s done with Barley’s divorce, I’m not allowed in his office anymore,” he explained with a leer. “I’m too tempting.”

  I bit back a snicker and waved them off. “Go, go, make the introductions.”

  They walked away, not toward Reza but near him where they could get more food.

  I spotted Sasha near the bar and went to join her. We chatted until it was time for the food to be served and the welcome speech to start, and then Gavin and I found our seats.

  While Mr. Zajac rambled, I could feel him shaking with suppressed laughter where our knees touched under the table, and I squeezed his thigh and glared at him.

  “This is gold,” he said under his breath.

  “Behave or I won’t give you your surprise,” I warned him.

  He mimed zipping his lips and we got through the speech and the awards, even though he didn’t stop shaking basically the whole time, which was an oddly perfect distraction.

  Once the formal part was done, it was back to mingling, waiters offering drinks and miniature desserts. The senior partners and their significant others were fanned out on one end, and Gavin and I made our way over to say thank you, like everyone did at some point.

  “I’d say: ten percent fawning, ten percent they’re not sure they know your name, forty percent one too many drinks already, twenty percent they hate their wives, and twenty percent their wives hate them,” Gavin summarized g
libly as we went back to everyone else.

  “Probably,” I agreed absently, slipping my phone out of my pocket just enough to check the time, even though I’d set two timers to be absolutely sure we left on time.

  Gavin dug his fingers into my ribs, making me jerk and laugh because it tickled.

  “Forty minutes, and then we’re going to sneak out of here,” I told him.

  “Sneak out? Are you feeling okay?” he teased before snatching up a cookie.

  Knowing Gavin, I started to make the rounds to say goodbye to everyone as soon as he was done with the cookie, trying not to rush him because we were still on schedule. He told everyone within an unapologetic grin to cover for me with the senior partners if they noticed we’d left, and they agreed because who could deny Gavin when he asked like that?

  But once I’d pushed him out of the ballroom, I grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

  “Where are you going?” he laughed, coming along happily. “That’s the wrong way.”

  “It’s the wrong way if we’re leaving,” I agreed, then stopped at the elevator and pushed the button to go up. His eyes widened and he bounced a little on his toes. “But I got a room for the weekend. Not just for our anniversary, but to reward you for coming to the party.”

  I was sure to be really earnest so he wouldn’t suspect it was true, but also a rouse.

  It must have worked because he just beamed, pulling me into an empty elevator car when the doors opened. “Our meet-a-versary! I didn’t forget it, but my present for you is at home so you’ll have to wait now. But I don’t need a reward for going to the party with you. I lost the bet, and it was actually really fun. I’m going to organize a very grown-up dinner party for Sasha and Mia and Lita and Reza and a bunch of your other coworkers I love.”

  “Fabulous, but it’s officially our anniversary weekend. No talking about coworkers.”

  He smoothed his hands down my green tie, then looked up again with an intense, serious expression. “I’m so proud to be your partner and so happy about how proud you are that I’m yours too. We belong to each other and have for a year, I can’t believe it,” he sighed.

  I corralled him against the wall, bracing my hands next to his head, and murmured, “It’s been the most exciting thing to ever happen to me, and I love you so much for it, and for a million other reasons. I know I’m usually the romantic one, and we will get sappy, but for now, let me say: I’ve been fantasizing about fucking while we’re both in suits for weeks.”

  He dropped his jaw, but couldn’t hide his giant grin. “Okay, now I’m intrigued.”

  “Just how I love you,” I told him, taking his hand and exiting the elevator, practically running down the hall, tumbling into our room. “Now let me make my fantasies reality.”

  “Didn’t I already do that?” he challenged me, just like he always had, grinning at me.

  “You have no idea,” I murmured, bending in to take his mouth in a soft kiss.

  Epilogue

  Gavin

  First Eliott had proudly escorted me around the company party. I’d expected him to be the unsexy kind of stiff at a work function, but instead he’d shown me off, an arm curled around me. I’d taken a hundred mental snapshots of how fucking buttoned up he looked, because there was nothing I loved more than destroying the wrapping while I opened gifts. And Eliott Navarre was an elitist gift with the sexiest challenging glint in his eyes.

  Second he’d snuck out of the party, which wasn’t rude but also wasn’t something he’d do under normal circumstances, and surprised me with a really swanky hotel room. We’d pretended to be enemy spies meeting up for a clandestine affair during a ball, fulfilling one of Eliott’s fantasies about us in suits fucking. Then we’d lounged in bathrobes until late into the night, when we’d melted into bed and he’d made love to me so well I might have cried.

  Third he’d announced that there was a surprise within a surprise during breakfast. He’d handed me a duffel bag he packed for me and brought up to the room yesterday morning, and we’d put on casual workout clothes while he refused to say anything more.

  Now we were headed southwest out of the city and it was making me crazy.

  And Eliott was starting to look a little pale, his hands clenched around the wheel.

  “Babe, are you about to throw up? Was it the fourth mini cinnamon roll you had?”

  He offered me a tense, but genuine smile. “No, I’m fine. I’m just… a little nervous.”

  I rolled my eyes and suggested, “Pretend you’re me.”

  “That’s perfect advice under the circumstances,” he told me with a chuckle, relaxing a tiny bit. “You’ll understand and crack up when we get to our destination, trust me.”

  “How much farther?”

  Shoving my shoulder, he explained, “An hour. I know it’s a bit of a haul, but it’s going to be worth it. But I am nervous, and you’re antsy, so you need to distract me. You get twenty questions, no holds barred. Total honesty. But no follow-ups, no multiple-step questions.”

  “Now I’m three times as intrigued as I was at the hotel!” I clapped my hands and then rubbed them together like a classic villain, plotting out my strategy before I started.

  It was so tempting to ask him twenty explicit, hot questions about sex. But I had no idea what the surprise was, so I didn’t want to get both of us all wound up, only to have to wait hours before we could relieve the pressure. So I decided to take another approach.

  “Would you rather have a buzz cut for the rest of your life or never drink wine again?”

  “That’s a horrible scenario, but… I’d give up wine,” he replied. “My head is lumpy.”

  I cracked up and asked, “Are you good at buying presents for loved ones?”

  “No, I’m terrible,” he admitted with a huff of self-deprecation. “Too practical.”

  His first gift to me had been a jewelry-making kit, which was good enough at the time, before we were in love. I imagined ripping open a present from him on my birthday this year, which was coming up, only to find a brand-new blow dryer. Instead of making me wince, the idea sparked warmth. “You pay attention to what people need, and you want to help make their lives easier,” I told him. “That sounds really nice, to me.”

  “Keep it in mind when you get a standing mixer for our next anniversary,” he muttered.

  “Try a subscription to a fancy porn site.”

  He made a choking noise while his hands flexed around the wheel.

  “It’s practical—masturbation is good for our health. It’s fun because I’ll share it with you,” I claimed, rolling my hips as best as I could while buckled in.

  “Gavin,” he groaned, his loose athletic shorts stretching lovingly around his rising cock.

  Relenting, especially since I’d meant to stay away from sex, I asked who his first celebrity crush was, and then kept it light and as nonsexual as I could manage. The miles and the minutes slipped by as we laughed and teased each other, neither of us keeping track of how many questions I’d asked or caring that I answered my own questions too.

  When the GPS announced, “Turn right in a quarter mile,” I looked out the window.

  Then I did a double-take, my mouth falling open in shock because I knew exactly where we were and what was in a quarter mile. My mind blown and my heart pounding, I shouted in excitement, “Skydiving? Holy shit, are you taking me skydiving right now?”

  Eliott burst into loud laughter, only a little hysterical, and that’s when it really hit me: he wasn’t taking me skydiving, he was taking me skydiving, like, he was going to do it too.

  “Are you serious?” I bounced in my seat like a little kid.

  “As a heart attack,” he said deadpan, starting to look a little pasty again.

  Once he parked, he said, “It’s really important to me that our relationship is balanced.”

  “Good thing we’re both vers,” I teased.

  He shot me a killing look. “You made the first move; I asked you out the
first time. Three daring dates, three boring dates. I went to Barley’s party and you came to Camdon’s. But then you also hang out with my friends, you visit me at work, you moved into my condo, and you said I love you first. So it’s unbalanced, and I want to correct that.”

  “You know that’s not how it works. We shouldn’t be keeping track,” I argued, horrified at the idea that he could possibly think he was a bad boyfriend in any way.

  “I fucked up so bad at the historical village,” he went on stubbornly, staunch and unflinching in owning up to it. “I saw you at Camdon’s party and you just fit in there, seamlessly, swapping all these daredevil stories with my friends. All I could think was that I’ll never have as much in common with you as other people like my own friends. So at the historical village, I was determined to be boring and stuffy and aloof, to prove that I’d never be carefree or freewheeling or exciting. Trust me, I know it was stupid and self-sabotaging.”

  I swallowed past a lump in my throat and angled over to catch his mouth in a kiss.

  “Baby, it was stupid, because you have done nothing but prove to me that you like me just as I am… that you love me just the way I am,” he pushed out, voice tight.

  “Yes, I do,” I agreed, my voice just as tight as his.

  He nodded, mouth thinned in determination. “So let’s go skydiving.”

  He got out of the car and I leaped out after him, barreling around the hood of the car to slam into him. My arms banded around his back and my mouth fused with his perfectly.

  “Before I get too excited about this, you do know this isn’t necessary, right?” I had to check between damp kisses along his neck. “You make it sound like I moved in and spend time with your friends as some sort of sacrificial proof of something, when really, I wanted to. I want to live with you, and your friends are amazing. I want those deep friendships too.”

  “It’s symbolic and romantic,” he insisted.

  Unable to deny that it was, I kissed him again. It should have been silly, a stunt a teenager would pull to get someone to agree to give him a chance and go out with him. But it was more than that. He truly wanted to be my partner, with no imbalances between us, neither of us owing the other anything. What he really meant was he needed me to know all the way down and all the way across that he was with me because he wanted to be.