In fact, right now, my only goal should be to ensure that this impulsive decision doesn’t impact the rest of my life or the relationships with the people I care about, including Jesse. Andwith the way he’s looking at me, a wall pulled down over his face so I can’t read him in the slightest, my stomach churns.
“Yeah,” I say, even though that’s obvious. His lips tip at the edges, and it sends the smallest wave of relief through me.
“Are you…good?” he asks, and I let out a small laugh.
“Yeah.” I lift a hand to wave between us as I shift away, putting a much-needed gap between us. “Are…we good?”
“I don’t know, you tell me,” he says, and my stomach churns as panic floods me. “Are we going to avoid each other for a year again?” The panic subsides, leaving relief in its wake.
“If we can joke about it, that’s a good thing, right?” I sit up, pulling the sheets up to cover my chest and giving him my signature snarky look. “Do you promise you won’t get weird?”
He’s let out a loud laugh, shaking his head, and it hits me: we can do this. One night, oneunforgettablenight, and we’re back to normal.
“Promise. Want breakfast?” he asks, rolling out of bed and moving to a dresser in the corner. I try not to watch his ass, but I can’t stop myself. That’s allowed, though, right? I would have absolutely watched his ass as he walked away before we fucked,especiallyif it was a naked ass. In fact, it would be weirdnotto do it afterward. He opens a drawer and grabs out a pair of sweats before bending to put them on.
“Hal?” he asks over his shoulder, smiling at me. I shake my head, trying to focus.
“Sorry, you’ve got a good ass.” No point in playing coy, I suppose. He laughs again, and I don't know the last time I heard him thislight.
“You too. Now, do you want breakfast? Or are you going to sneak out and make it weird by trying not to make it weird?” He knows me too well, and with that realization, the vise in my chest has loosened entirely.
That’s why this isn’t going to be an issue: we both know each other so well that it can’t go bad.
Right?
Right.
“You got bacon?” He rolls his eyes, then throws a sweatshirt at me. It’s going to be far too big, but I also know it’s going to be worn and warm. I hope he doesn’t like it too much, though, because I am never returning it. A souvenir, so to speak.
I throw the sweatshirt on and stand, noting that it’s so big it covers my ass, and then spot the bag with my leggings in it on the floor. Grabbing them, I slip into his bathroom. After I use the toilet, I slip my leggings on, and when I spot his toothbrush, I grab it, coat it with minty toothpaste, and brush away. Now he can’t use that for Never Have I Ever, I suppose.
“You’re a shit cook from what Emma tells me,” I say as I walk into the kitchen, a bowl with batter before him and bacon already sizzling in a pan. He smiles at me over his shoulder.
“I am, but bacon and pancakes? That’s the only thing I’ve mastered.”
“Good to know,” I say, even though I’ll never have a use for that info again. I help set the table and clean up a bit as he goes, throwing out eggshells and starting coffee for us, and in ten minutes, we’re sitting at his kitchen table, a stack of admittedly delicious pancakes before each of us.
“What do you have on the agenda for today?” I ask after I’ve eaten two full plates, far too full for another. Still, I dip a piece of bacon in the puddle of maple syrup on my plate and pop it into my mouth. He shrugs across the way from me, leaning back with his arms behind his head. Again, I tell myself it’s totally okay to admire his arms like this. It’s what I would have done anyway.
“Nothing, really. Gotta get Emma around noon, then family dinner. The norm. You?”
I nod. “Same. I’ve gotta batch some content for the week’s social media channels. The pictures of the deer should go over well.” He glares at me, and I smile. “I’m thinking of seeking her out once a week and trying to make them the mascot of the farm.”
“You’re not going anywhere with those boots.” I roll my eyes, then stand and move toward the sink to rinse my plate and put it into the dishwasher. He stands as well, his own plate in hand, but he sets it aside before grabbing mine.
“Who’s going to stop me?”
“I think I proved I will,” he says, and suddenly, the friendly air that I’ve been forcing to hang between us feels decidedlylessso. “You know—” he starts, and I hold my breath, unsure of what he’s going to say next and equally uncertain of what Iwanthimto say next, but then my phone dings once, twice, three times, with incoming texts. I glare at the device on the table like the traitor it is, then reach for it and let out a groan.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Your sister,” I mumble, seeing that while it sounded like three new messages, it’s closer to six, since the first three hit my DND. He lifts an eyebrow before I continue. “She is trying to convince me to text that guy she wants to set me up with.” I regret saying it for a moment as the words hang between us before he speaks. His face shows no change, though, no hint of irritation or dismay or hurt.
“Are you going to?” he asks, and I sigh.
“I don’t know. I mean, does anyone really say no to Wren?” He laughs and shakes his head, knowing that even though Wren is sweet as pie and will do anything for anyone, when she gets an idea in her mind, she’s unlikely to drop it, especially if she thinks it will benefit someone she loves.
“What do you think?” I ask, eyes still assessing him carefully.
