Jake pulled away from Dean, instantly blushing and turning his back to me.
Dean licked his ex off his lips, then came over to greet me.
“Hello,” he spoke as smoothly as silk, shaking my hand.
“Hi. Are you both alright?” I tried not to smirk.
“We were eating some pasta.” Dean pointed at their empty plates and two half-empty glasses of red wine. “How are you? It’s good to see you back on your feet.”
If it weren’t for needing to feed The Sun and myself, I’d leave them to it.
I told him I was good and what I was up to.
He nodded. “And how is Isaac?”
“Getting there.”
“As always, there is a lot to process.”
Jake cleared his throat, finally facing me. “So, erm, Dean’s crashing here for a bit. Can’t exactly stay at The Coral right now and your mum really layered on the insistence.” He laughed nervously, talking quickly. He also sidled up to Dean ever so closely, their hands brushing.
Whatever happened to cause this sudden shift, good for them.
“Sorry if I interrupted,” I said.
Jake’s eyes widened a little. “You didn’t. We’ve finished. I’ll…I’ll…I’ll get these dishes cleaned.” Off he went to hide his face at the sink by the windows.
“I’ll help,” Dean insisted, joining him.
I left them alone, sticking to the other side of the kitchen where I whipped up my specialty of fish finger sandwiches with cheese and just the right amount of tartar sauce. I grabbed a huge bag of ready salted crisps, some chilled glass bottles of water, and two servings of honeycomb tiffin. Spread it out on a tray and set off for my room again.
To be alone with him…
If he didn’t like any of this stuff, I’d get him something else. Like a hot chocolate?
Did he share in my hot chocolate obsession? I’d find out, hoping for a yes because I could see us sharing in the sweetness together on my bed.
Can you really?
He was still engrossed in the book when I found him.
“This is insane,” he announced, looking up. “These zombies are greedy fuckers.” He spotted the food. “Ooo. What you got there?”
I showed him, and his face lit up.
“I’m ready for all of it.” He put the book down, running his pink tongue across his perfectly glossy lips.
Damn. They looked so sweet.
We sat side by side eating, talking about what he’d read so far, ending with a game ofFrustrationon the bed, avoiding real-world talk for now.
“I used to play this with my brother,” he said, pushing the popping dice center.
“This was my dad’s favorite,” I answered, taking my turn.
“I love that,” Isaac responded. “Was he big on gaming in general or only boardgames?”
“He rejected consoles,” I continued. “Said they weren’t pure.”
