They had already given to each other everything.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was a beautiful Saturday morning in New York City. The sun was shining, the air was crisp with the promise of winter, and Fifth Avenue was bustling with pedestrians. Hand in hand, they walked toward Central Park, and when they came to a stop on the corner of the street, Logan looked over at Tate. He was back in his usual jeans, shirt, and coat, and as the sun filtered through the buildings, it warmed them where they stood.
“Is there any place in particular you want to see once we get there?” Logan asked, waiting for Tate to look at him.
He thought about it for a few seconds before he smiled over at him. “Strawberry Fields.”
As the light changed and they were able to cross, he tugged on Tate’s hand and they started up again. “Really? Big Beatles fan, are we?”
“A little. Courtesy of my father. He used to listen to them a lot when we were kids, and I learned most of their songs on my guitar at school.”
“I love learning these little things about you,” Logan said. “Strawberry Fields it is.”
“What about you?” Tate asked.
“Hmm?”
“What did you listen to when you were younger?”
Logan chuckled. “I didn’t really listen to music.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I told you I was a nerd. Books were my thing, not music. Plus, you’ve met my mother. You can imagine her tastes weren’t exactly what a young boy likes. Actually, that may explain a few things…” he mused.
Tate pulled him against his side, and when their shoulders bumped, he laughed. “That’s kind of hot.”
“What is? That I was a nerd?” he asked in disbelief. “Trust me. I was not hot. I was skinny and awkward.”
Tate waggled his eyebrows at him. “Keep going. I’m getting a good visual here. The glasses, the books, that smart brain of yours, all wrapped up in…”
Deciding to play along, Logan answered. “I favored pressed polo shirts with my very proper pants.”
Tate gave him a thorough once-over, and Logan rolled his eyes.
“Stop it. You never would’ve looked twice at me. I’m a guy, remember?”
“Perhaps not at first,” Tate agreed. “But I bet if we’d spent time together…”
Logan scoffed at Tate’s insinuation. “Oh, don’t stop there. You’re saying—if we spent time together in college, you think you would’ve tested the waters with me, huh?”
As they came to the entry of the park and wandered inside, Tate glanced over at him and really seemed to be contemplating him before he said, “I think there’s something about you that just…”
Logan pulled him to a stop. “That just?”
Tate touched his cheek and simply said, “Calls to a part of me. And I don’t think it would’ve mattered what age we were.”
Logan blinked at him, trying to think of something to say, but he had nothing. No one had ever said something so honest to him in all his life. As always, Tate continued to be the one person who could surprise him—just when he thought he’d heard everything.
“There’s something about you,” Tate tried to explain as he traced his fingers along his jaw. “In the way you are. It pulls me in, Logan. I can’t imagine knowing you and not feeling it.” He stepped toward him, right there in the middle of the park on a busy Saturday morning, and took his lips in a kiss so fucking sweet that Logan had to clutch his arms to keep from falling over. Then Tate raised his head and whispered, “It just took me a few days to see it.”
Logan touched a curl by Tate’s ear. “You were pretty stubborn. And angry.”
“Do you blame me? You hit on me the first night we met. I was in shock.”
Logan turned, and they started walking again, oblivious to anyone in the park but themselves. “I did not. I waited until the second day to do that.”
“Sure. Your eyes were practically daring me to—”
“To?”
Tate’s lips quirked into an ironic smirk. “To go home and think about you long after my shift was over.”
“I like that. You going home to your apartment and thinking about me, curious. But you know what I love?”
Tate studied him and waited silently.
“You coming home with me—and being absolutely sure.”
Tate winked at him. “I love that too.”
And Logan felt his heart just about melt.
* * *
As they strolled through the winding paths of Central Park, Tate couldn’t imagine any place he’d rather be. The temperature was perfect for walking around town, and as he watched the couples stretched out on blankets and the children throwing Frisbees and chasing one another around the grassy fields, he felt the stress of the last few months lift from his shoulders.