Lennon gave up his dream job for me. I still can’t comprehend that even as I stare at him from across the crowded bar.

As soon as we got here, Jet dragged me onto the dance floor seeing as it’s a rite of passage or whatever to get sweaty with half-naked men. With Lennon’s big fat no stance on dancing, Jet’s taken pity on me and vowed to show me the way.

And while the dance floor is proving to be an awesome experience—to freely admire the bodies around me, the porn-like make-out sessions from others, and all-round freedom of everyone in here—I don’t like being away from my man.

The only thing making me take my eyes off him is the wicked harsh scowl Soren’s sending my way.

Jet leans back against my chest and reaches up behind him to wrap his hands around my neck. He turns his head and whispers in my ear, “What’s your friend’s deal?”

“My friend?”

“Caleb. Soren. Whatever his name is.”

Soren’s now standing, arms crossed, and looks like he’s about to murder me. Or maybe Jet.

“What happened?” I ask.

Jet turns in my arms, and his lithe body continues to move against mine. “Dunno. It was weird. When I asked him to come here, he was all ‘It’s you.’ But then he looked me over and almost looked disgusted with me. Or himself. I’m not sure.”

That is weird. “I have no idea what that’s about. Unless you’re already famous and didn’t know. You’re gonna have to get used to randoms recognizing you.”

“He did mumble something about the Rainbow Beds benefit.” He glances over at Soren and gets this whole intrigued look in his eyes. “Is he single?”

“Jet,” I warn, “he’s way too old for you.”

“Hmm …” He still looks interested.

“You’re leaving and going on tour.”

“Exactly.” Jet waggles his eyebrows.

“He has an ex he wants to get back with,” I say.

“Ex means fair game.”

I don’t like this, but I don’t know why. Maybe it has to do with me bringing Soren into this group. If Jet gets crushed, Matt will kick my ass, and I’ve made it a life goal to never have one of my role models hate me. “I’ll tell Matt and Noah you’re crushing on a hockey player ten years older than you,” I blurt.

“You’d tattle on me? Real friendship goals, Oliver.”

Apparently, my highly offensive threat is too much for him, and he stalks away.

He’s barely out of my eyesight when I’m swarmed by other guys trying to get my attention. Can’t say that I hate it, but I do hate that none of them are Lennon.

And then I see him, the guy who means so fucking much to me it’s scary and who’s changed my life so much already.

He’s showed me what selfless love is all about, and I wouldn’t change him, how we met, or how we got here.

I wouldn’t even change the angry jealousy written all over his face right now.

Not at all.

“Hey,” I say to him when he reaches me. “You kinda look like my boyfriend, but he assures me he wouldn’t be caught dead on a dance floor.”

“He sounds like a smart guy.”

“He is. Although not too smart to know there’s no way I’m interested in anyone but him so he really didn’t need to come fetch me.”

“Yeah. He did.” His arms snake around my back, and he pulls me close. He doesn’t start dancing though. That’s probably too much to ask.

“Why did he?” I mock.

Lennon’s mouth lands on my ear. “Because I may not be able to dance, but I can fuck, and watching you and Jet together was too hot for words. I need you. Like yesterday.”

And it’s home time.

I drag Lennon toward the bar entrance, waving goodbye to the group of guys at our table from afar so none of them try to stop us. I don’t even look in their direction to see if they acknowledge us leaving. They’d understand.

When we reach outside, the warm summer New York night makes my T-shirt stick to my skin with sweat. Either that or I’m still sweating from all the dancing.

“Your place is closer,” I say to Lennon.

“Yours is more private.”

Damn it, he’s right.

I take out my phone and order an Uber to come pick us up and then turn to Lennon. “So … what are your plans for me for when we get home?”

If I’m honest with myself, the urge to ask Lennon to move in with me as soon as he announced he was staying in New York was strong. Too strong for a couple who haven’t been together long. I’m glad I managed to keep my mouth shut about that, but that didn’t stop the I love you from falling out.

I knew I couldn’t hold it back much longer but have been too scared to throw it out there. We might not have been together officially for long, but he’s all I’ve been able to think about since that night at the Honey Bee.

“I don’t know,” Lennon says. “I gave up my dream job for you, so I’d think you’d be the one to have plans for me.”

I smile. “You know, there’ll be a time in years to come when you can’t use that against me anymore. I gave up my dream job for you, so do the fucking dishes. I gave up my dream job for you, so rub my feet.”

Lennon cocks his head. “Years to come, huh?”

Oh fuck. Way to not show my hand too fast.

But Lennon doesn’t seem fazed. “How optimistic of you.”

Apparently, my mouth thinks it’s a good idea to dig a deeper hole for myself. “Confident. Because I know there will never be another guy who understands me like you do. Who doesn’t only support me but encourages me to do what’s right for me. You’re the most selfless person I know, and you’re perfect for me. If I could give you the world, I would.”

Under the street lights, I swear Lennon’s cheeks tinge a cute pink.

“Until I can afford the entire world, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

He stares up into my eyes, and with the most serious voice, he says, “I want you to kidnap the president. And the Declaration of Independence. National Treasure style.”

I laugh. “Fuck, I love you.” Damn, there it is again.

Lennon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Trying to convince myself this is real,” he says quietly.

I kiss him, pulling him close and breathing him in. His vanilla-spiced scent that’s all Lennon fills my nostrils, and I can’t believe this is real myself.

“I promise this is real,” I whisper.

He pulls back again, and his stoic face makes me think he’s going to say another joke, but when his voice comes out quiet and unsure, I know he’s being serious. “I know what I want from you.”

“What?”

“Happiness.”

I huff a loud breath of relief. “That’s the easiest thing you could’ve asked for.”

“But it’s sometimes the hardest.”

Truth. “All you have to know is I’m going to make it my life’s work to make sure you’re happy.”

“After hockey, maybe.”

I shake my head. “No. You put me before your career, and until I met you, I never understood why or how someone could do that for someone else. With you, I get it. It makes more sense than anything I’ve ever experienced before, and I can’t even explain it. I thought hockey was everything. All the rest was just extras. And while hockey is still a major chunk of my life, you’ve become my priority.”

“Are you sure?” Lennon’s still uncertain, and I don’t know how to take that away.

I try to come up with something that’s an easy way to explain us, but what comes out is a jumbly mess. “Think of me like a cake. Hockey is the base—the plain sponge that’s the core element. You’re the icing—the best part. The reason you eat the cake to begin with.”

“I don’t know whether to be turned on or hungry.”

I know he’s deflecting with humor again because it’s hard for his inner teen to believe anything I’m saying is true.

I sigh. “One day.”

He smiles up at me. “One day?”

“One day, you won’t question it. Even if it takes twenty years for you to realize what we have is real, I’ll continue to prove it.”

“I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you too … Clark.”

He punches me in the arm, but he’s gonna have to get used to his new name. Especially if he’s going to be part of the Strömberg clan.

When it’s the right time, I’ll make that happen. Without a doubt, I know he’s the one for me. The hockey player and the sports journalist making a life together … yeah, I’ll make it happen.