He shifts, getting more comfortable on the floor, and somehow ends up with his head actually resting against my thigh. I don't know what to do with my hands—they hover uselessly for a moment before I settle one on the couch cushion near his shoulder. Not touching, but close.
His hand finds my leg again. Just resting there, warm and steady.
On screen, someone's tempering chocolate badly. Robin groans. "That's going to seize. Look at the texture—it's already getting grainy."
"What does seizing mean?" Ash asks.
More explanations. More questions. He asks about the science behind it, why chocolate behaves the way it does, what makes tempering work. I find myself getting into it, explaining the crystal structures, how the fat in cocoa butter needs to align properly, why temperature control matters so much.
Ash listens to all of it. Asks me to explain things twice when he doesn't understand. Doesn't seem bored or impatient.
His thumb traces circles on my skin the whole time.
The episode ends. Robin yawns hugely, jaw cracking.
"Okay, I'm done. Need sleep." He hauls himself off the couch, stretching his arms over his head. "Ash, you staying or going?"
"Going." Ash sits up, and I immediately miss the warmth of him against my leg. "It's late."
We all stand, and there's an awkward moment in the entryway where no one quite knows what to do. Robin'swatching us with barely concealed interest, not even pretending to give us privacy. Ash is looking at me with hope in his expression, or maybe fear of rejection.
"Hey," he says. "I was thinking about hitting the gun range tomorrow morning. If you want to come."
"The gun range?" I blink, caught off guard. "I've never shot a gun. I'm a lion. We don't really need them."
His face falls slightly before he can hide it. "Right. Yeah. Sorry, wasn't thinking—"
"No, no!" The words come out too fast, too eager. "It could be fun. Learning something new. I've never tried it."
He perks up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. What time?"
"Nine? I can pick you up, or—"
"I can meet you there. Just text me the address."
"I don't have your number."
We both fumble with our phones, trading numbers with clumsy fingers. My hands aren't cooperating. His aren't either, which makes me feel slightly better.
My phone buzzes immediately with a text:Range address. I'll bring extra ear protection.
"Cool," I say. "I'll be there."
He nods. Looks at me for a beat too long. "Goodnight, Jason."
"Goodnight."
Robin walks him out, and I hear them talking on the porch—can't make out words, but Robin's tone is warning and Ash's is defensive. Then the sound of a motorcycle starting, the engine roaring to life, fading into the distance.
Robin comes back in, closing the door behind him.
"So," he says.
"So."
"He made you popcorn."
