“This isn’t about me, dumbass, and you have no room to talk,” Angel retorts.
“Don’t be lame Danny. I mean if you fall for her or fuck her what’s the problem? Why are you against it?” Gray asks.
It’s not that I’m against the bet because I’ve thought about Josie more than a time or two. But things are different, and ourrelationship isn’t the kind of relationship I’ve had with other girls or even with Amanda.
Though I’m not sure I can even call it a relationship. She hardly lets me in, and the only reason I’m making any progress is because I agreed to let her teach me how to swim.
I’m not even sure Josie really likes me.
Somedays I feel like I’m getting a read on her and other days, I can’t read her at all. She only tolerates me because we have a class together and we’re hiking buddies, but if it wasn’t because of that, I’m sure we wouldn’t be on speaking terms.
“Just stop the bet. It’s stupid and nothing is going to happen between us,” I exhaustedly say, securing the bag on my shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Kai asks.
Before I get the chance to dodge the question and look at Angel to keep his mouth shut, he’s speaking.
“Swim lessons.”
“You got her to agree?” Gray looks severely offended.
“You gave me the idea. I guess it’s time I learn.” My hand tightens on the strap as another wave of nausea crashes against me. “I’ll see you guys later.”
I ring the doorbell, breathing in slowly and then out. I do this a few more times in hopes the nausea will vanish, but it continues to persist.
But it and my headache only worsen when Josie swings the door open. The realization of what I’m going to do sets my body in a panic.
“Hey, Gar—” She studies me, eyes sweeping over my face then down to my full hands. “What’s with the bags?” she asks,although I feel that’s not what she wanted to say and I’m thankful for it.
She motions for me to come inside and I follow behind her, telling her, “I’m going to make you dinner.”
There are instances where reading her is difficult, but then there are some moments her vulnerability seeps through, and reading her is as easy as breathing.
The conversation we had about her groceries stuck out to me. I knew without her having to go into detail why she lacks the energy to cook. I want to tell her that I’ve been there, but it’s not about me.
As we step in the kitchen, she staggers and spins to face me. “You don’t have to?—”
“I am and I will. Plus, I’m a great cook, and if baseball ends up not working out, I’m considering becoming a private chef.” I smile at her as I set the bags down on the island. “Okay, maybe I don’t have what it takes to become a private chef, but let me tell you my rice is private-chef-level quality. You just wait until you try mytinga, and don’t worry, I’ll make it extra spicy for you.”
My anxiety has lessened but now I feel…nervous but for different reasons. Am I overstepping? I want to make her happy, I want to help her fill the emptiness, I want to do whatever I can to make her feel good, but I don’t want to push.
She comes a little closer, standing on the other side of the island. “You know how spicy I like my food?”
“You said it’s hard for you to enjoy most foods if they’re not spicy. I also feel the same way.”
We were hiking when she said that. I was trying to get to know her as much as I could, asking her random questions here and there.
“I don’t remember telling you that.” She looks into the bag, but I don’t miss the faint jerk of her lips.
Fireworks. Every single time she does that.
“I’m very good at paying attention. Not to brag or anything, but it’s what landed me captain and how I became shortstop.”
Her lips jerk again and so does my heart.
“I’m pretty sure it was your—” She stops mid-sentence when she pulls out two containers. One has slices of limes and the other slices of lemons, but when she pulls out the lemon squeezer, a laugh slips past her lips. “I…” She trails off, her lips slowly curling upward into a small smile.
Wow…whoa…whoa.
