I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hour by hour, I watched and waited for the moment where something would happen to send Liam scurrying back into the closet. But that moment never came. And so, day by day, I managed to let down my guard, allowing myself to envision our future together.

When I could afford to take time off from the restaurant, I’d started going to his matches more often, sitting with some of the wives and girlfriends I’d met that first time. That was when I’d learned Oliver Gordon’s boyfriend was actually Liam’s teammate Ed XX. Sitting side by side, Oliver had explained how he and Ed were basically hiding their relationship in plain sight. If anyone cared to look closely, they’d easily figure out the two men weren’t just roommates, but so far no one had. In fact, he couldn’t believe his parents hadn’t caught on yet.

It was the same for Liam and me. He wasn’t hiding the fact that we were together, and I wasn’t flaunting it. And yet if anyone paid any sort of attention, they’d figure it out pretty quickly. After all, no one stays the night at their buddy’s house three nights a week for no good reason. It was a compromise that I could live with. And yet, I still wondered if I was setting myself up for eventual heartbreak.

But right now, I didn’t want to think of any of that. Tonight was for celebrating.

“You almost ready?” Liam asked, wrapping a thick wool scarf around his neck and shoving a cap down over his head, making sure to cover his ears. It was New Year’s Eve, and we were heading out to pick up our torches for the torchlight procession that took place every year during Hogmanay.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I answered, zipping up my Barbour coat and pushing my fingers into thick woolen gloves.

Liam laughed and shook his head. Setting his hand on the flat of my back, he pushed me out the door of his tiny one-bedroom flat.

“What?” I asked when Liam glanced over his shoulder as I trailed slightly behind in the narrow hall leading to the stairwell that took us down to the street.

“It’s not cold enough for gloves.”

“Just because you’re some kind of superhuman godlike creature who can run around in the rain and snow wearing nothing but a tiny pair of shorts and a shirt doesn’t mean we’re all impervious to the cold.” When we reached the bottom landing, I held up my hands and waved my fingers in front of his face. “I need these.”

Quickly, he grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together. Pushing the door open, he dragged me out into the gray afternoon.

* * *

“Fuck, it’s freezing.” Liam blew into his cupped hands, his breath pushing through his fingers and turning to fog.

“I told you to wear gloves,” I said, tugging one of mine off with my teeth and passing it to him. “Here, use this.”

I didn’t want his fingers to freeze holding onto his torch for the mile-long walk down to Holyrood Park. The event organizers had changed the route for this year’s celebrations, but the slow, zombie-like shuffle down to the end point would still take ages. The last time I’d done this, my group had been so far in the back it had taken us an hour just to get moving, and another hour and a half after that to reach Carlton Hill for the bonfire and fireworks.

“Thanks,” he said, smirking as he shoved his hand into my warm glove. His palm as broader than mine, and his fingers a little bit longer, so was a snug squeeze, but I figured it was better than nothing.

“It’ll protect you from the hot wax, too,” I added from experience.

I pushed up on my toes to look over the heads of the crowd in front of us. The torches at the front had been lit a few minutes before, but it’d probably be another thirty minutes or so before the flames reached us.

“How does this work again?” Liam asked, pushing his bare hand into his armpit to keep it warm, while he held the torch with his gloved one.

I shrugged. “Once all the torches are lit, they’ll make an announcement over the loudspeaker, and then we’ll just walk down the parade route holding them up. Some people will probably stop along the way to chat and get food or drinks, and a lot of the families will fall out altogether.”

“And there are fireworks at the end?” he asked, bouncing on his toes excitedly.

I laughed and smiled fondly. “You’re like a little fucking kid,” I said, quickly glancing around before leaning in and dropping a kiss to his exposed cheek. “It’s adorable.”

“What?” he asked with a happy laugh. “Can’t a grown ass man love fireworks?”

“Yes, a grown ass man can love fireworks. You should probably call them explosions though; you know, much manlier that way.”

He pulled me into his arms, and his hands found my ass under my coat. Squeezing it, he growled, “I’ll show you manly.”

Two hours later, Liam stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my middle and his chin resting on my shoulder. Above us, the sky burst open in a riot of color. With the crowd’s collective eyes raised skyward, Liam kissed my neck, tugged on my earlobe with his teeth, and then turned my head to kiss me deeply.

I closed my eyes as his tongue curled with mine, seeing the flare of blue, green, pink, and purple behind my eyelids. With my back to his front, I could feel the hard length of him pressing into me like a brand. He rolled his hips and groaned low in the back of his throat.

Eventually, our kiss slowed and he pulled back. “See, fireworks are awesome,” he whispered in my ear with a chuckle.

If you’d have asked me two months ago if I’d be ringing in the new year with Liam, I would have bet against it. And yet here we were, and he’d kissed me in public. And not just kissed me. He’d fucked my mouth with his, and I’d fucked his right back. Admittedly, it was dark out, and most of these people were probably tourists, but I couldn’t ignore how far we’d come since he’d turned up at CAMP a few weeks ago.

I set my hand over his and squeezed, my head falling back against his chest as I reveled in the feel of his embrace as the sky glowed above us. “I love you,” I whispered.

Then, there were several long hisses, followed by a series of loud kabooms, and the awed oohs and ahhs of the crowd as the fireworks reached their crescendo. When it was all over, the air was redolent with Sulphur and burning wood from the nearby bonfire.

Liam pulled me in tighter, his arm a steel band around my middle. He kissed my neck. “I love you, too.”

The crowd thinned, and the excited chatter among friends, family, and loved ones drifted into muted quiet. I took Liam’s hand in mine, and we fell in line with the departing throng until we were back out on the streets of Edinburgh.

“Where to now?”

Liam laughed, his eyes raking over the packed streets. “I have no idea. The only place I ever go is CAMP, and you’re closed until next week, so you tell me.”

I scanned the crowds. No matter where we went, everywhere in Old Town would be packed and getting a table would be next to impossible. Still, I didn’t want to go back to his place. Something had shifted between us under those fireworks, and I wasn’t ready to put a lid on this night.

“I know you’re more a whisky guy,” I deadpanned, and he laughed and rolled his eyes, “but I know one of the guys who runs BrewDog. We could duck in there for a few pints if you’re up for it.”

“Hell yeah, I’m up for it,” he said excitedly, grabbing my hand and tugging me into the crowd toward Cowgate.

Liam loved BrewDog more than someone in peak physical condition on a strict diet probably should, so I knew he’d be excited by the prospect of heading over there now. I’d wanted to take him there forever, but I hadn’t dared suggest it given how reticent he’d always been to be seen out in public with me.

But tonight was different. Tonight, anything seemed possible.

“How have we not done this before?” he asked, pulling open the door and letting me step through in front of him.

Under my breath, I muttered, “Because you wouldn’t be seen with me before,” but my words disappeared in the crush of voices that immediately assaulted our ears.

The bar was packed, wall-to-wall bodies pressing in on each other. The great thing about this place was it catered to all types. While the guys who ran it were self-described punks, the staff was polite and informative, and beer snobs and neophytes alike were welcomed through their doors.

To that point, three American men somewhere north of fifty stood to our left, talking to a group of young, blue-and-purple-haired girls about what they were all drinking. With the knowledge of experts, the girls described how the beer was loaded with grapefruit peel that punched you in the face on first impression—both with flavor and scent—but how as you drank it, you realized it was perfectly balanced by the intense hops. The guys smiled and nodded, apparently charmed by the confidence and intelligence of the women. Then again, they might have been just as charmed by coy bubbleheads, too.

In any case, everyone was having a great time. And why not? Hogmanay was something everyone should experience at least once.

“Is this okay?” I shouted when we’d moved about ten more feet but then hit a wall of bodies.

Liam removed his hat and shoved it into the pocket of his coat. As he unwound his scarf from around his neck, his eyes raked over the space, and then he nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to try to get us a table.”

I looked at him like he was crazy and said, “Are you crazy?”

“Trust me.” He winked, and snaked his way across the floor, scooting between groups of people. He was taller than almost everyone else in the place, so it was easy to keep my eyes on him. When he finally reached the very far side, he turned and beckoned me over.

With an incredulous shake of my head, I followed the path he’d just taken, eventually making my way to him. “You’re kidding me,” I said, sliding into the booth on the opposite side of him.

“Advantage of being tall,” he shrugged. I don’t think anyone else could see this spot was open.

I turned my head and looked back towards where we’d come from. “No, I don’t suppose they did.”

Not that it was surprising from this angle. There was a group of tall German businessmen clumped in the middle of the walkway, completely blocking the view to this corner of the room. If you hadn’t been on this side of them already, you probably would have missed it. Unless, of course, you were six-and-a-half-feet tall like Liam was.

“What do you want?” he asked, sliding out of the booth and looking down at me with a satisfied smirk.

I shrugged. Beer wasn’t really my thing. “You pick.” He started to walk away, but then I called out, “Actually, get me the Elvis one those girls were describing.”

Twenty long minutes later, during which time I had to tell three different groups our booth was taken, Liam returned holding our beers. Sliding mine across the table, he settled back in with a bottle with a dark brown label and a specially shaped glass.

“What’s that?” I asked, lifting my chin toward him. The beer he was pouring was the color of balsamic vinegar or soy sauce, except thicker and richer.

While he finished pouring, making sure every drop was out of the bottle and into his glass, I sipped my own beer, enjoying the refreshing, bold citrus flavor. It wasn’t overpowering, but it wasn’t subtle either. Really, it was unlike any other beer I’d had before, and suddenly I could see how it would be a great accompaniment to a grilled on-the-bone rainbow trout dish I served during summer.

“It’s called Tokyo*,” Liam answered, raising the glass to his lips. He took a small sip and groaned. “And it’s fucking perfection.”

I stared at it dubiously. “If you say so.”

“Try it,” he said, pushing the glass my way, but I shook my head and held up my much paler brew.

“Nope, I’m good. I might not know a lot about beer, but I do know palates, and that one is going to blow mine.”

“Your loss,” he said with a shrug, throwing back another swallow.

Just then three girls, probably in their early-to-mid-twenties and dressed for a party, sidled up to our table. “I don’t suppose you have any room for us, do you?” the tall blond out front asked, her American accent coming through over the din of the crowd.

Immediately, I placed them as students at the university down the road. Ten years ago, I wasn’t the type of guy girls like these would have looked twice at. But ten years on, my tattoos and longish hair were catnip to girls who wanted to tame a bad boy. And Liam? With his sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes, he was every good girl’s fantasy. He looked like a Disney fucking prince.

I looked to my dirty prince with a cocked eyebrow, curious to see how he’d respond. His lips hitched to the side with a sly smirk before he flicked out his tongue and licked his lush bottom lip. The red-head girl’s eyes practically bugged out of her head, and she grabbed hold of the third girl’s arm tightly, as if to ask, “Did you fucking see that?”

I chuckled and shook my head. These poor girls had no idea what they were in for.

“Sure,” he said, scooting along the seat toward the wall to give them room to crawl in after him. “As long as you don’t mind hanging out with my boyfriend and me.”

Speaking of eyes bugging out of their head, I was pretty sure mine just had too. This was the first time Liam had called me his boyfriend to a perfect stranger. I didn’t want him to know I was freaking out, so I took a long drink of my beer, hoping the glass masked my face from view.

No such luck. Liam smiled my way quickly, but then turned his attention back to the girls.

The blonde looked between us and chewed her lip, trying to decide her next move. She looked back over her shoulder to her friends. The brunette widened her eyes and shifted her weight to her other foot. I glanced down to see she had on five-inch rhinestone heels. Shit. I had knives that were less sharp than the spikes on her feet. I honestly had no idea how women did it.

The blonde’s head swung back around, and her shoulders slumped. “Yeah, that’d be great. We haven’t been able to find a table anywhere, even though we had a reservation at the club next door.”

I scooted over to make room, and the three of them joined us.

By the time I dropped face first onto Liam’s bed, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard, or for so long. Then again, I was really fucking drunk.

And yeah, I’d ended up trying his dark beer. I’d loved it, and ordered another. Hence, my drunkenness.

The day had certainly been full of surprises.