I’m pushing past everything I once believed in. Severely repressing my moral and ethical beliefs. Every line I drew for myself is getting blurrier by the minute. And I’m letting it happen.
Because it’sher.She’s worth it. Worth every risk, every consequence. I’ll burn my whole world to the ground just to see her smile.
When we pull up to the house, I pull into the garage. I usually park in the driveway, but tonight demands discretion. The garage is so cluttered with boxes and random junk that there’s almost no room, but I squeeze the car in anyway.
“What do you want for dinner?” I ask, trying not to get lost in her beauty. In the way she looks at me.
“What do you have? Actually… surprise me.”
“Anything you don't eat?”
“Nope.” She grins.
I lead her inside, my pup almost exploding with excitement the moment he sees me. “Hey, Winnie!” I scratch behind hisears. He gives me about three seconds of attention before his intelligent eyes fall on Sophie.
Then he’s all hers. He prances over to her, nosing between her legs, and I groan. “Quit!”
She just laughs, kneeling down to rub his belly. “It’s fine. He’s cute!”
He lays on his back, all four legs sticking straight up in the air. He’s such a traitor. I know he’s already in love with her. I get it, bud. I do.
I leave them in the living room and head for the kitchen. I’m starving, and I’m sure she is too. I pull out steaks from the fridge and get water going for mashed potatoes. Cooking has always been a type of therapy for me. I move around the kitchen with confidence, no second-guessing. I’m in my element.
Sophie eventually drifts into the kitchen, settling on a barstool to watch me cook. I’m hyper-aware of her eyes on me, her gaze burning my skin from the inside out. I love this. Being here, with her. It feels so easy and so natural. Like we’ve done this a million times.
But the excitement and nerves in my gut also remind me of the newness of it all.
“I love your home,” she says. “It’s beautiful.”
“Oh, thanks. It was my parents. I grew up here.”
Was.The word hangs in the air heavily between us, and I know she catches it.
“Did they move?”
Her voice is soft, curious. It nearly breaks me, the innocence in her tone. At her age, I hadn’t lost much either. Maybe that’s why she asks that way, not jumping to the worst conclusion. The world hasn’t broken her fully. Not yet. I’m glad.
“No. They died. Recently.” I pause. “That’s part of why I came back. That and… I just needed to get away from the city.”
“Oh, Theo,” her voice is solemn, her eyes tender as she watches me. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” I say, before changing the subject to something lighter. I nod towards my bluetooth speaker. “Put on something good?”
She lights up instantly, music clearly being a favorite of hers, and hops off the barstool to connect her phone. Music fills the kitchen. The first song she picks is sensual, the male voice deep and filled with longing.
“What song is this?”
“It’s ‘Talk is Cheap’ by Chet Faker.” She grins, and I can tell she knows her music.
“I’m gonna need you to make me a mixtape,” I say, my voice teasing.
Her face scrunches in confusion. “A mixtape? What’s that?”
I groan, running a hand down my face. I try not to dwell on the age gap between us, but every so often something slips out of her mouth and reminds me of how young she is.
I let it go, refocusing on my task. She keeps me company while I cook, her voice dancing through the air as I finish up our dinner, singing along to every song.
When we sit down to eat, side by side, she moans at the first bite. “This is incredible.”
