seventh september

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It's September and Holt has a photography contract that will keep him in New York for two weeks

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It's September and Holt has a photography contract that will keep him in New York for two weeks.

I'm supposed to go to Seattle for a week to do interviews for an article of mine in the New York Times. And then I have other projects to work on at home.

Holt keeps whining about not being together for two weeks. He's adorable.

We go to the airport together, our planes going in opposite directions.

Holt almost misses his flight because he doesn't want to let go of me.

What he doesn't know is that I have plans. I made myself a crazy schedule and manage to cram all my interviews in four days.

After four days of running everywhere and barely sleeping, I take a flight, not back home, but to New York.

I land right around the time Holt would usually call me. He calls me every evening like a good boyfriend.

When my phone rings I'm in a Uber on my way to his hotel.

Holt tells me about his day. He likes his contract and the people he works with. I'm so proud of him and everything he's accomplished. He's kind of a big deal now. After he came out on instagram people were freaking out trying to figure out who the boyfriend was. When they figured out it was me there were actually a couple of articles on gossip websites. It all felt very jet-set.

"How was your day?" he asks as I get out of the car and walk in his hotel.

"You know, same as yesterday, just a lot of running around," I tell him heading straight to the elevators.

"Maybe you need to stay there a little while longer, it feels like you don't have a second to breathe," he tells me, sounding a little worried.

I stan a concern boyfriend. "I'll manage, don't worry Smooches. Do you have any great plans for tonight?"

I hear him whining. "I think I'll just go grab something to eat and then I'll stay in bed and watch a series on Netflix."

"Come on, don't you want to go out?" I ask, getting off the elevator on his floor.

"Don't feel like it," he replies and I can just imagine his little pout. Pouty Holt is too cute for his own good.

"You suuuuuuure?" I press and knock at his door, grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah, hey just wait a second, someone's at the door."

"Oooh, did you order yourself a gogo boy in my absence," I joke. It takes all my self control not to jump up and down.

He laughs. "Shut up," he says as he opens the door.

The second he sees me he throws himself in my arms.

"You bastard," he whines, his arms holding me so tight I can barely breath, nuzzling his face against the side of my neck and shoulder. He's kissing my neck, his hands at my back grabbing fistfuls of my shirt.

I hold on to him too, stroking his back, ravelling in the warmth of his skin and his comforting smell.

When he stops trying to crush my ribcage I laugh and say, "Now, what kind of welcome is that?"

He grabs my face and presses a slow burning kiss against my lips. I feel it in my whole body. "I love you," he breathes against my mouth, his forehead pressed against mine.

"I love you too, but I just want you to know I don't support you opening your door shirtless. You're too irresistible to do that to poor strangers," I tease him.

He laughs and I walk in his room, closing the door behind me.

"How long are you staying?" he asks, looking all giddy. I'm as excited as he is.

"Five days. I had a meeting with my editor in New York scheduled for this month, so I'll do it now. And I pushed back everything I had to do at home."

"When have we became so co-dependant?" he wonders out loud.

"I think right around the time we met each other," I point out.

We're both laughing and smiling. And then I walk around him and slap his butt, "now come on, get dressed, we're only this young and good-looking once. Let's go out!"

We spend the next five days in New York together. We both have work to do but we manage to meet each other between shoots and deadlines and meetings.

As we wait in line to get pizza and Holt wraps his arms around my waist from behind, leaning his chin on my shoulder I think about how grateful I am.

I don't know exactly what I did to have such a perfect life, but I thank the stars for it.

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