Page 2 of How Not to Date a Griffin

“Right. Better get on with it then. Don’t want to be late for dinner. Well, more late,” he mumbled, and pocketed his phone. The creature's head was eye-level with Nolan, and he stared at the tall, wide span of his back and the simple saddle with something akin to dread.

He had the feeling he was about to embarrass himself.

“S’pose you don’t have any tips for how to, uh… get in the saddle, eh?” he asked, chuckling to ease the stitch of panic weaving through his chest.

The creature—Reid, Nolan could just refer to him by his name—shuddered, and a single roped step unfurled itself from the side of the saddle.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, and placed his hands on either side of the leather, then hooked one foot into the single step before throwing his other leg up and over the creature’s back. The first time he didn’t get enough momentum, and his foot fell back to the ground with a thump, and Nolan sighed as heat rushed to his face.

The second time, though, he settled into the dip of the saddle effortlessly, and marveled at his athleticism.

“Well, that was easier than expected. Oh shit, you are rather large, aren’t you, there? Oh god,” he rambled, as the wings bracketing him began to flap.

There were no seatbelts. What if he fell off?

Heart racing, he gripped onto the saddle with both hands and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to find the fucks to give about how ridiculous he may look.

“This might be a bad time to admit how terrified I am of heights.” He gulped as they lifted away from the ground, ignoring the flash of devices from the crowd of people as they captured the rare sighting.

Rare for him, at least. He’d most certainly never taken a ride on a griffin. He didn’t even know it was a thing.

His father would probably have something to say about this whole situation, but as the griffin drifted higher into the sky and away from the swanky circle, Nolan found he didn’t particularly care.

The griffin didn’t quite take him to the clouds, but they might as well have been spattered with their condensation for all the difference it made. They were flying!

Nolan’s heart raced in his chest and his fingers tightened around the saddle, but he spied the moving cars and the walking people, little ants from way up here, with a grin.

“Wow!” he shouted, voice lost in the wind. “This is amazing!”

Reid dipped into the next turn, cutting between buildings with a whoosh, the rushing air all white noise in Nolan’s ears as he stared at everything from this new, impossible perspective.

All too soon, Nolan spotted the name of the restaurant, but not even the dread of the evening, the whole week, could manage to spoil his excitement as they drifted lower to the ground.

The gentle landing surprised him, and if his eyes had been closed like earlier, he would’ve hardly noticed they’d touched the ground. He waited a few seconds to make sure the creature was still before he clambered off, and locked his knees to keep from wobbling as he readjusted to the cement beneath his feet.

“That was magnificent,” he breathed, running a hand through his sure-to-be-unruly hair and pulling his phone from his pocket. “Oh, do let me tip you, uh…” As he fumbled for the setting in the app, he grumbled about new technology and his inability to keep up. “Sorry, just let me figure this thing out,” he said, gaze flicking to the rather unimpressed looking griffin before him.

His eagle's eyes were shrewd, and until that moment Nolan hadn’t considered that eagles could look annoyed, and yet somehow, this one managed.

Just as Nolan discovered the rating, review, and tip section of his past rides—honestly, did they have to make it so hard to find, were they trying to make these people’s lives harder?—a notification appeared at the top of his screen, and his heart sank.

His cheeks went red at the words his coworker had sent him.

Dinner canceled. Decided to schedule for another night, give everyone downtime in their rooms. See you tomorrow. 9 sharp.

Well, fuck.

That would have been nice to know fifteen minutes ago.

Nolan was so focused on his annoyance, he didn’t notice the slight vibration in the air until someone cleared their throat.

He startled as he glanced up to find a man standing in place of the griffin, arms crossed and brow arched.

Nolan swallowed.

“Everything alright?” the man asked in a deep voice that scratched the inside of Nolan’s brain like something special.

“Reid?” he asked, rather coherently for someone who’s just come face to face with the hottest person they’d ever seen. Reid’s long and unruly blond hair curled around the nape of his neck and framed his face, blending with the mustache and short beard that softened the sharp line of his jaw. Nolan would like to clock him around mid-thirties, but with the lengthened lifespan of most Others, there was really no telling.