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Do you believe in hate at first sight? Neither did I, until Niko fucking Adamos strides into Studio 1 like he owns the goddamn place.
He looks like a modern day Greek god, and I hate him instantly.
I’m not used to people disliking me. Everyone likes me. I’m a likable guy. I smile a lot. I listen. I care. But Dixon? Wow, that man does not like me. And I’m almost positive it’s me specifically and not that he dislikes everyone on behalf of his surly attitude. It makes me feel special, but not in a good way.
“What’s he like?” she asks, dishing food onto her plate. I think about it. Hot is the first word that comes to mind. He’s tall, a bit taller than my six-foot frame. Beautiful, Black, muscles for days, thighs the size of tree trunks, sharp brown eyes. “Grumpy,” I answer instead. “Seems like a bit of a dick.” Cass raises an eyebrow, looking at me knowingly. “So you’re attracted to him?” I groan. “Maybe a smidge.”
Dixon gives me a look. “I don’t bottom.” “Right,” I say slowly, nodding my head. “Makes sense. No room up there with that stick firmly lodged in place.”
I don’t like to lose, and there’s a very fine line between hate and love. I just have to keep pressing, and Dixon will find himself on the other side of that line. Mark my words. This time next month, Dixon won’t know what hit him.
How are we possibly supposed to develop chemistry and sell these boyfriend videos if my costar can’t even stand to be around me? “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Mat, kitten, my little marshmallow, that is too much information,” I say.
Dixon fixes me with a glare, pulling the laces on his shoes tight like he has a personal vendetta against his feet.
This kiss feels too…real. It has to be the setting. The fact that we’re hanging lights and standing near a tree and pretending that we’re boyfriends. It’s messing with me. It’s making me want things I can’t have. It’s making me wish this were real, that this is how my holidays could be. It doesn’t have anything to do with Niko. It’s just the circumstances. Except, as he gently pulls back, looking into my eyes with a softness that feels painfully genuine, I realize I don’t believe myself. These scenes we’ve been playing, this boyfriend act, it doesn’t feel like an act at all.
“Ask me again,” Niko says. “Ask you again?” “If I’m sweet or salty.” I roll my eyes. “All right. Are you sweet or salty?” Niko’s face stretches into a slow, sly grin. “I’m everyone’s flavor, baby. Maybe you should try me sometime.”
“Stop trying to talk me out of dating you. It’s happening. And for the record, I don’t think you should sell yourself so short. You certainly knew how to act like a good boyfriend during our scenes, not that I need you to act with me. I want Dixon, not Dix.” There’s a pause, and then quietly, Dixon says, “I don’t think I was ever acting with you, Niki.” My heart just about stops.
“I want this to mean something,” I say. “I want to really try, Niki. I don’t want… I don’t want you to be another one of my failed relationships.”
“I want this to mean something, too. It already does.” “I just… If I’m doing something wrong, tell me, all right? Give me a chance to fix it. I couldn’t stand the idea of you disappearing on me, too.”
But when I look at the future, I see Dixon. All those other choices, I want them to include this man because he’s mine. And even if he doesn’t know it yet, I’m his.
“You like me cheeky. Admit it, griniári mou.”
“What does that mean?” I ask him. “That name you call me?” Niko grins. “I wondered when you’d ask.” My eye roll is immediate. “You could’ve just told me,” I reply, even though I understand why he didn’t. He was waiting for me to come around. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I assume you’ve been calling me an asshole all this time.” Niko chuckles. “No, not at all. It means ‘my grump.’”
“I hope next New Year’s is just like this one,” Dixon says, leaning in close and brushing a piece of confetti off my nose. “It will be,” I assure him over the noise, pressing my cheek against his and breathing in his minty, fresh scent, stronger now than the lingering notes of the cocktail. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” “Is that your way of telling me you’re my happy ending?” he asks, voice wistful and tender. I smile against his skin. “No, griniári mou. This is only our beginning.”
“Griniári mou,” Niko whispers fondly into the breeze, as if he’s thanking the endless horizon in front of us for bringing him me, his grump. As if he’s the lucky one, when I know, for a fact, that’s me. To have found this whirlwind of a man who loves me just the way I am, who’s endlessly patient and resoundingly happy. Whose family brought me into the fold like I’d been there all along. This man who challenges me, who pushes me when I need it, but who knows exactly when to back off and is equally adept at handling me with care. He’s beautiful and he’s funny and he makes me happy every single
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