Troye's pov
I did hold his hand, by the way, when we crossed the street. In fact, I did every single second I could. Even when we passed by one of his teammates on the way to Radisson Blu Edwardian. I held his hand over the table, unable to let myself lose that kind of thing. A bottle shared of champagne later, I finally let go, feeling as though I'm floating in my own veins. I excuse myself as my bladder fills far too much and go relieve myself in the loo.
Once I'm finished I wash my hands and wet my face, staring in the mirror.
"You, Troye Sivan, cannot screw this up." I mumble.
"You hear me?" I ask, nodding at myself in the mirror.
As I walk out, tears dripping down my face, I smile at Jacob and sigh.
"Fuck man, I'm wasted." I admit.
He chuckles, staring at me as if I were crying in publi- oh my god I'm crying in public.
"You okay?" He asks.
I pull the white rose out of my suit pocket and throw it at his hands on the table, spinning around as I pull my suit jacket off.
"I'm not good at any of this- the whole date thing," I say as I sit back down, holding my jacket in my hands.
"I try really hard sometimes and it may not look like it but it really means a lot to me." I continue, looking anywhere but at him in the room.
"And I'm sorry if i just ruined this whole thing." I trail off, my words lowering.
He just stares so deeply at me,making my face flush pink.
"You didn't ruin it, Troye." He speaks finally,relieving the pressure on my chest some may call anxiety.
"If anything you just made it better." He adds, "You were bluntly honest."
I nod once, looking down at my hands.
"I appreciate that." He murmurs.
"Maybe you should drink and cry more often." He then says, striking a subtle nerve.
I give in and look him in the eyes, gulping harshly.
"You left me last time I did this." I whisper, "You left me for a party."
Sorrow fills his face in as he frowns, not daring to break eye contact.
"I'm sorry, really." He mumbles, "I can't do anything but make up for it now."
I nod, "Okay."
"So what will you do?" I ask.
He smiles, "I'm going to kiss you."
He leans over the table while I impulsively move forward as well. I fall into his kiss and break away, pressing my lips back to his.
"I'll kiss you,"I move directions back and forth as we break apart and attach again at the lips.
"And I'll kiss you again."
This inevitably ends with me moving to his side of the table and sitting in his lap, us making out in the middle of a restaurant. And we do so until we're escorted out. We kiss in the street, we kiss in bed, we kiss as if it's all we're meant for. We kissed and made up, we kiss and make up.
