Keeping her tone light, Char says, “This sauce is incredible. Where did you learn to cook?”
I set down my fork. “My mom and I would cook together a lot when I was younger.” My face falls, knowing how different the experience is with her now. “Still do whenever we can. What about you?” I ask cautiously, knowing this could be a minefield. “You cook with your family?”
She drops her gaze to her plate, pushing a piece of bread through the sauce. “Not really.”
I nod slowly, deciding not to press. “Yeah. I secretly think Mom recruited my help with baking cookies and preparing dinner to try to get intel on my life.” I chuckle. “Easier than interrogating me about school stress or girls directly.”
This earns me a small smile. “I’ve never been a great cook. It’s the last thing I want to do after being on my feet all day.” She takes a small sip of her wine and grins. “Besides, when your bestie cooks like Ellie, why bother?”
I clear my throat, my chin in my hand. “For the record, I’d give your salad a solid nine and a half out of ten.”
“Oh? Only nine and a half?” She arches a brow. “What’s it missing?”
I give her a bashful grin, slow and sincere. “Maybe a chef who doesn’t make me forget to breathe every time she smiles.”
She giggles, making my stomach flip from the sound. “And you said you had no game. That’s such a line.”
I sit up straight, hand over my chest in mock outrage. “It’s true.”
The firelight dances across her face, softening the guarded statefrom earlier. “Careful,” she utters quietly, meeting my gaze. “You keep talking like that, and I might start believing you.”
Leaning back in my chair, that same half-smile returns to my lips. “That’s the plan.”
After we clear the dishes, I top off our glasses. Char meanders back to the glass windows, taking in the night sky. “It’s incredible. Who knew you could see this many stars without a telescope? It must be beautiful to be snowed in here. Like you’re living in your own personal snow globe.”
“Yes. Beautiful,” is all I can force from my lips as I take in her profile.
She turns to face me, and I should look away. But what’s the point? It can’t possibly be lost on her how I feel. I try to break the ice. “So, what do you like to watch? Romcoms? Action adventure? Porn?” I shoot my eyebrows up, and she nearly chokes on her wine.
“Jeez. I swear you really need to warn a girl.” She giggles.
“Sorry.” I laugh and take another sip of my wine. “Or are you more of a true crime girly?”
A grimace crosses her face. It’s small but noticeable. Is it fear? It’s gone before I can name it. She shakes her head, forcing a half smile. “No. That true crime stuff gives me nightmares.”
“And romcoms?” I ask as I make my way to the great room and turn on the television.
She shrugs. “Sometimes. I have to be in the right mood. They usually only build false expectations, in my opinion.”
I grin, leaning back in my chair. “Something we have in common.”
She lifts her glass.
I let my grin turn into a smirk. “Guess that leaves porn.”
She laughs. Really laughs this time. And for the first time all night, it feels like maybe, just maybe, she’s not interested in running.
We settle into the couch, the fire burning low and steady. It’s casting this warm, amber glow that makes everything feel smaller. More intimate.
She curls up on the far end of the soft, leather sofa, legs tuckedunder her, wine glass balanced in one hand. I sit at the other end, pretending I’m perfectly fine with the mile of cushion between us.
The movie I settle on is mostly background noise. Some old action flick I’ve seen a dozen times, but right now, I couldn’t tell you a single damn line of dialogue. Every time Char shifts, I feel it. As if her energy vibrates in the space between us.
She glances over. “So, is this what you usually watch?”
“You ruled out all of my other options.” I wink.
Her mouth curves, but her eyes stay on the fire. “You don’t seem like the romcom type anyway.”
