It’s been easy to find myself so comfortable with him though, a feeling I’ve not had in so long. Maybe that’s why something internally is wanting to be around him more. I’ve been in fight or flight mode for so long and my nervous system has been craving peace and calm for years.
I just can’t fucking believe I feel it most with Liam Evans.
I finally hear Demi’s lock click on her door after standing in the hallway for a handful of seconds waiting. Having her so close to me has my protective instincts working on overdrive, and I’m tempted to do something crazy like buy her a doorbell camera.
The thought lingers in my mind before I close and lock my own door, placing the eggs and coffee from Demi on the counter.
Jesus, she looked beautiful this morning, but I could tell she thought the opposite. I can read Demi so fucking well, it surprises even me sometimes. Sweatpants, no makeup, hair up in a messy bun, and the sweater swallowing her whole. A fancy dress is great, but a low-key, just woke up on a Sunday morning kind of look stirs something inside of me.
When Demi texted that she needed to find something to eat for breakfast, I immediately thought of making her my signature omelet. I don’t cook often, and it isn’t because I don’t like to cook—I simply don’t like cooking for one.
Most of my meals are from delivery services—single-serve meals and snacks packed with protein and all the things I need for whatever current plan I’m on. But I’d love to have a reason to cook more. I’m no Nate in the kitchen, but I fucking love food and have always enjoyed trying out new things.
Birdie is perched on the small table I put next to the sliding glass door. It gives her a good view of the outside while also making her feel bigger—I think—when she’s facing off with the bird. I realized the moment I moved the table that I’m way too invested in my cat’s life, but I can’t have her feeling inferior when they’re having a standoff.
I take a sip from the coffee Demi sent me home with and let my head fall back after I swallow. I’ve never had coffee like this and it’s fucking insane how good it is. My black coffee is getting some serious competition lately.
Rummaging through my fridge, I take out all the things I need for this omelet. Green peppers, ham, and onions, along with cheese and all the spices I know work well together. It’s been forever since I’ve had one of these myself, but the Denver omelet is something I’ve been eating and making since I was a kid.
I take five minutes to chop up the peppers, ham, and onions, and then toss them into the skillet to let it all cook together before adding the eggs. It’s literally the easiest kind of food to make, but also easy to fuck up.
After a few moments, it’s done and plated, and I add a piece of toasted sourdough bread to the dish before heading back to my door.
“I’ll be right back again,” I say to Birdie as the door shuts behind me.
When I was at Demi’s thirty minutes ago, I noticed some baking items on her counter, but nothing looked omelet related so I think I’m in the clear bringing this over. At least, I hope Iam. I’ve been paying attention to Demi for years. I’ve seen her eat egg sandwiches, different pastries, and plenty of cookies that have eggs in them so there’s no concern about any allergies.
I tap on her door in a rhythm and hear music coming from the other side. I can’t really make out what type of music it is, but it sounds upbeat so that’s a good sign. There’s a shuffle on the other side of the door, and I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.
“Who is it?” she asks in a teasing tone, and my smile instantly spreads.
“Your neighbor.”
Demi pulls the door open with a smile of her own. She’s still wearing the same thing she had on earlier, except now I see the sleeves of her sweater are rolled up. Her hands are ring-free and polish-free—a difference from the black nail polish she usually wears.
“I knew it was you. I checked the peephole this time,” she says as she looks up at me and then notices the plate in my hand covered with Saran Wrap. “Oh.” She pauses, tilting her head as she stares at the food.
“Told you I’d bring the eggs back.” I shrug, stuffing my free hand into the pocket of my sweats.
“You…you made me an omelet?” The shock in her voice burns a hole in my chest. This woman is constantly surprised when someone does a nice thing for her, and it makes me want to run a fist into anyone who ever made her feel like doing something as simple as making her an omelet was a burden.
“Yeah, I’m known for my omelets.”
She smirks and I lower the dish to hand it to her.
“Oh yeah? By who?”
“The great state of Colorado.”
Demi nods as she smiles, looking down at the plate.
“I hope you like green peppers. That was the one thing I wasn’t completely confident in.”
Her head snaps up and she softly narrows her eyes at me. She tilts her chin down and then nods as if to say yes while the corner of her lip curves up.
She doesn’t invite me in and honestly, I don’t need her to. I just wanted to do something for her. I take a step away from her doorway. “Don’t let it get cold, Dem. Go eat.”
“Thank you, Liam.” Her words are practically a whisper.
