“That’s gorgeous.”
I jumped, nearly dropping my brush. Maya stood in the doorway, still in her park ranger uniform, her brown hair pulled back in a long plait.
“Jesus, you scared me.”
“Sorry.” She crossed the room to get a better look at the canvas. “Seriously though, Em. This is really good. Another one for the scholarship application?”
“Yeah, it’s the third one, so only two more after this.” I wiped my brush on a rag, trying not to feel too pleased with myself. “I’m actually happy with how it’s turning out. Which is terrifying because that usually means I’m two brushstrokes away from ruining it.”
“Don’t you dare touch it again, then.” She studied it for another moment, then turned to me with a smile. “I’m starving. Wanna make some pasta?”
“Absolutely.”
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting at the tiny kitchen table with bowls of fettuccine and marinara sauce.
Maya twirled pasta around her fork, her green eyes studying me with that look I knew too well. The one that said she was about to ask something I probably didn’t want to answer.
“Soooo, how are things with Cam?”
Heat crept up my neck. “Good.”
“Good.” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s all I get? Good?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, maybe something with a smidge more detail?” She took a bite of pasta, still watching me. “You’ve been glowing for weeks. Something amazing is clearly happening over there.”
I tried to keep my expression neutral, but the smile broke through anyway. “Okay, fine. Things are great.”
That got me an eye roll. “Define great.”
“Maya.”
“Emily.” She mimicked my tone perfectly. “Come on. I live here. I see you floating back from his place with that blissed out look on your face. Spill.”
Notthe time to go remembering how it felt to be tied to his patio furniture right at this point. I took a sip of water, buying myself time. How much did I want to say, anyway? How much was I willing to admit, even to myself?
“The sex is still incredible,” I finally admitted.
“Well, dur.” Maya’s grin widened. “But yeah, that’s a good sign.”
“It’s a very good sign.” I stabbed at a piece of pasta, avoiding looking at her. “It just keeps getting better, actually.”
“Even better than that first weekend?” She raised her eyebrows. “Because you came back from that looking like you’d discovered religion.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s accurate.”
She took another bite of pasta. “So what’s changed? Why is it even better now?”
Why did I have to blush so much? “He’s just... attentive. And he makes me feel safe. Like I can be completely myself and he’s not going to run.”
“That’s huge for you.”
“Yeah. And it’s not just the physical stuff,” I continued, surprising myself. “He’s sweet with me. Patient. He listens when I talk about art and asks questions like he actually cares about the answers.”
Maya’s smile had gone soft. “Em, that’s not just sex. That’s?—”
“It’s good,” I interrupted, not wanting to let her finish that sentence. “It’s really good and I’m not overthinking it.”
