And that I shouldn’t be picturing his surname behind mine.
Dean didn’t even know that I knew his surname. Or that I had seen the death report of his father, his suicide. That was enough to stop the fumbling as I closed the first aid box and slid it onto the shelf. The subtle nauseous feeling of guilt threatened to sink its way into my head again.
It felt wrong to know about that part of his life — to have been told about it by someone else and not him. I knew it was my father’s fault, dumping the background checks and information on me to scare me away from Dean, but I still couldn’t help that I felt bad.
“Trying to figure out how you might kiss him in the cabinet next?” Seb’s voice snapped me from my thoughts, and I found him standing nearby, half smiling as he held the straps of his backpack. Ready to go home.
“No, I— wait. He told you?”
Seb bit down on his bottom lip, baring his teeth in a wide grin as he nodded excitedly. Almost jumping to stand beside me before he lightly poked at my arm repeatedly. “It’s. About. Freaking. Time.”
I laughed and swatted his fingers away. “Okay, calm down.”
He did — sort of. Still visibly buzzing, he gripped his bag straps again and jerked his head in Dean’s direction. “I think you’ll do him some good, you know.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I’m serious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy. It’s like you’ve reminded him what it’s like to feel again.”
I huffed a laugh, unable to find the right words to respond. I couldn’t have imagined doing that for someone. Ever.
Seb chuckled. “You’re not very good at taking compliments, are you?”
“Nope, absolutely not,” I smiled proudly.
“Good thing his love language is touch.” He wagged his eyebrows, nudging me with an arm.
My mouth dropped open. “How do you know this stuff?”
“I’m a good wingman. I pay attention.” He shrugged smugly as he backed towards the stairs with a slight hop in his step. “See you later, Lil.”
I gave him a small wave when he stopped at the top of the stairs, and then rolled my eyes when he started pulling kissy faces and running his hands up and down his body.
“Goodbye, Seb,” I smiled pointedly, making him laugh before he walked through the back door.
There were only a handful of fighters milling about the basement, most preparing to leave but taking their time to do it. Meanwhile, Dean remained at his locker — also taking his time after checking over the shelves. When he glanced over his shoulder at the other fighters, I realized he was stalling.
Collecting several scraps of plastic and paper from around my cabinet, I locked the doors and headed for the garbage can in the kitchen. Purposely walking past Dean in the process, I noted the way his eyes went from the men (now slowly making their way to the back stairs to leave), and then to me. His brow quirked as he watched me from the corner of his eye.
As I put the rubbish into the small metal garbage can, the last of the fighters finally left the building. While Dean had his head down, pretending to look through his bag as he casually moved closer to the kitchen, I kept an eye on the back door until it closed. The second it did, I started towards Dean, unable to control the small skip in my step.
He dropped his bag and cupped my face, pulling me into a kiss.
It was somehow no different from our first kiss but equally brand new, sending my head into a spin as I craved more of him each time. The brand-new part came when my newfound confidence dared me to briefly take his bottom lip between my teeth. He hummed deeply in response and my body grew warm knowing he liked it.
“Not worried about the cameras?” Dean muttered between kisses.
“We’re out of shot,” I said quickly. The cameras pointed to the back door and lockers. Not the kitchen.
Dean gently backed me into the fridge door, sending a whoosh of air from my lungs with the motion as the cool metal pressed into the back of my arms.
His hands skimmed up my sides, jostling my shirt as they did, and my heart lurched when his fingers briefly met skin. But it was the sultry laugh and the slow clicks of stilettos on the cement floor that forced us to stop.
As I pulled back quickly, hastily tidying up my wrinkled shirt, Dean was a little more reluctant to move. He kept a hand on my lower back as he turned around.
“Now this is adorable,” Roxy pouted, cocking her head to one side so her dark hair fell over her shoulder in heavy waves while she walked.
Dean’s jaw clenched. “What do you want?”
