Edward
Beyond my fondest dreams, Jon was flirting.
I had believed him to be entirely off-limits since we’d met—an object of appreciation from a distance, rather than one of intimate interest. Now, though, we sat together at a bar in London, warm in the summer heat, our knees touching as I drank round after round of gin and tonic.
We stayed at the Chalice for another several hours, over the course of which I drank far more than I probably should have. Though I’d picked up more than a few men and women at this very pub over the years, my nerves were getting to me, making my chest clench and my breath quicken. Jon seemed to match my mood, and by the time the Chalice began to clear out, we’d fallen into a companionable silence, across which tension hung like a tight wire. I finished my last
