His eyes are filled with fire that I don’t want to extinguish. I want to burn.
Stop it, Trinity.
He doesn’t like me like that. He can’t. He’s a tease. He craves to see me blush.
“Go have sex in your bedroom, Leo, not in the kitchen,” Elijah mumbles. “I don’t want to eat sex cookies.” He glares at me, then at his brother. “No one messes with my cookies.” Elijah’s eyebrows frown.
I’m having a hard time taking him seriously. Elijah looks funny when he’s grumpy.
Leo starts singing softly from where he stands across from me. I can’t make out the lyrics.
I stand still in my spot for several reasons. One, his voice is velvety smooth. Two, he looks so sexy when he sings. And three, I know he’s teasing me. He looks me up and down with a smirk as he sings lowly.
And the thing that terrifies me the most is, I don’t even panic when he sings.
It’s only been a couple of weeks. I can’t fall for him. He’s making that extremely hard. He knows what affects me and is using that to his advantage.
Every day, he seems to surprise me even more.
Amelia and Elijah cast Leo a panicked look, which makes my eyebrows rise, and he stops immediately.
What are they hiding?They make me feel so awkward and out of the loop.
Amelia glances over at me and nods toward the dough. “Help me roll these up in balls.”
I do as she said, but the weird feeling never leaves my gut.
* * *
“Tell me about yourself,” Elijah says from beside me.
We’re all currently lounging on the couch while devouring the fresh cookies we just baked from scratch. I have to hold back a moan from the way the hot chocolate melts in my mouth. It makes me close my eyes in pleasure.
Placing my feet in Amelia’s lap, I lean my head back on a pillow near Elijah’s. Leo’s frame takes up the space beside his sister. His intense eyes never glance away from my body.
Over the past few hours, Elijah and I have gotten closer. He’s funny and softhearted. I can tell he’ll make a fantastic friend. I can’t say the same for his brother. He drives me mad already.
I think about his question and glance over at him. “My favorite color is black, I live off of coffee, I love cars, and I hate music.” I admit the thing I’m most terrified of telling anyone. Yet I already feel so comfortable around these three.
They all turn to me with shocked looks on their faces.
“You don’t like music?” Amelia breathes out.
“How can you not love music?” Leo leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
I shrug my shoulders and turn the ring around on my finger. “It brings up memories I don’t want to remember.”
He cocks his head to the side in confusion.
“My dad used to sing to me before he died. It just reminds me of him,” I mumble.
“I get that,” he replies. “But that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying something you love. His death should make you love music even more than you did.”
I’m appreciative that he’s trying to shine a light on my dad’s death, but he doesn’t understand how he died. No one will feel the guilt I feel on the inside.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I whisper. “I don’t really know how to explain myself without sounding like an idiot.”
“We understand,” Amelia says sternly, looking at her brother. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Loving something that you shared with someone special who died too soon must be hard. The last thought in my mind is not that you’re an idiot. It’s how strong you are.”
