Hot Cappuccino Boy - BxB (COMPLETE)

Chapter 20

Aden has once again arranged for us to meet at the South Bank, this time in a trendy café. I walk out of the Tube station and weave my way through the crowded embankment. When I left the flat, I came across Sam, who looked severely defeated. I asked him what was wrong but he completely eluded my question, speaking in a forced jovial tone about his new programming work. I've not yet seen hide nor hair of Ben. I haven't heard of him either – it's living with a ghost. 

So, I'm not in the happiest mood when I glimpse Aden already sitting inside the café. Even in the present circumstances, when I see him, my breath hitches in my throat. He's truly beautiful – the chiseled face, the artfully tousled hair, the gaze which betrays his cleverness, the tall and slender body. But... it's not just that. Not anymore, at least. His mind, his company, our discussions – everything we exchange has become beautiful to me as well. I suddenly long to hear his voice, his laugh, to exchange some silly banter with him. Standing outside and watching him through the glass, I realise I've missed him since we said our goodbye two days ago.

I struggle to get my head around it.

How did he become so dear to me in so little time?

As if an unseen link binds us together, he chooses this moment to look up from his mobile phone and spots me immediately watching him. Great. Hello there, Mister Stalker. I wave at him feebly before deciding to finally get inside.

The café is crowded and as Aden gets up to greet me, he must read in my whole expression that I'm not ready for a very open PDA between us. He simply shoots me his mega-watt smile and discreetly strokes the back of my hand with his fingers, a furtive caress which nevertheless makes me flush.

"Hey".

"Hello. It's good to see you."

I'm addicted to his voice.

I'm beginning to suspect I'm addicted to the rest as well. Suddenly, it becomes gradually more difficult to remind myself of every reservation I've ever had as far as he is concerned.

A harassed-looking waitress suddenly stands at our table and asks what we would like to order.

"A Coke for me," Aden replies before glancing at me questioningly.

"What? You haven't already decided in my stead?" I tease him, a smirk curling up the corner of my mouth.

His eyes linger on my lips and I feel a shiver running down my spine.

"I've learned my lesson in this regard," he whispers back.

I suddenly experience the kind of cliché moments you always read about when you open a romance – the whole world disappearing because the lovers only have eyes for each other. I'm caught by his gaze, which turns molten, darkened with desire, yes, but with other feelings as well. My breath hitches in my throat as I recognise this glint of affection. I'm sure a dopey smile is creasing my lips right at this moment.

The waitress must have seen it since she clears her throat in a very obvious way and barks at me:

"And for you?"

"Hum... A Coke as well."

Aden barely makes any effort to smother his grin as the waitress leaves us.

"All this fuss just to end up ordering the same drink as I did..."

"Oh, shut it, you," I retort while tossing my napkin at him.

"I've missed you."

The confession comes suddenly, unexpectedly and as I see Aden flushing at what is certainly a slip of his tongue, something he didn't want to admit out loud – or at least, not yet – I feel the need to reciprocate.

"I missed you too."

For one small moment, Aden's face glows alive with an emotion that I'm afraid to name. He looks at me, crimson slash on his cheekbones, with such intensity I swallow heavily under his gaze. He leans in, whispering:

"I want to hold you in my arms. Seeing you like this, with this table between us, not being able to touch you... That's just torture."

Goodness. What do I reply to this?

It seems that my body instinctively knows how to respond – this or my desire for him has finally defeated my instinct of survival. I reach out. He grips my hand in his, lets our fingers tangle together before putting our joined hands on the tabletop.

"Is it better?" I whisper.

"Yes."

And his gaze tells me what his tongue is not yet ready to admit.

It's not enough.

I try to rally my wits around me, fighting the quicksand feeling of letting myself being submerged in the very potent and obvious alchemy spreading like a web between us.

"You... You wanted to talk..."

He lets out a little laugh, his thumb stroking the back of my hand in a very tender gesture.

"Yes... Yes, I did. But I'm afraid that since you've arrived here, all words seem to have deserted my mind."

His gaze turns positively smoldering as he whispers:

"You make me want to lose all common sense..."

"Aden," I groan with frustration. "If you start like this..."

"I know, I know," he cuts me off.

He takes a deep breath.

"Okay, trust me or not, I had prepared a whole speech beforehand just for this occasion, but as I can't remember a single word of it, I will just take the plunge and launch straight ahead, okay?"

Before I can answer, he says:

"I want you, Ethan and not just as a fuck buddy or a lover. I want you... as my boyfriend."  

☕️☕️☕️

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