Spending time with Demi tonight has me excited. So fucking excited. And I refuse to let anything ruin that—even if my phone just buzzed with a text from my father.
When I get to Liam’s door, I can already hear music coming from his apartment. I straighten out my top, pulling at the bottom, and glance down at my jeans. I can’t remember the last time I think I felt sexy, but every time I’m around Liam that’s the word that pops in my mind.
I feel confident and good about myself most of the time, but he takes it to another level. The way he stares at me, longs for me almost—I always thought someone’s attention like that would make me uncomfortable, but it’s the complete opposite.
The door swings open before I can even knock, and I glance at the tiny camera near his door. He literally saw me coming.
I pause before I speak. Before I move or even breathe.
Because he looks perfect. And it’s the first time I’m finally letting myself see him instead of rushing past the thought. He’s absurdly handsome on a regular day. He takes on a hot, masculine approach in his uniform, but tonight there’s a navyblue apron against his light gray T-shirt and black jeans. His hair is styled in that perfectly messy way where some pieces are in his face but you can tell they’re supposed to be. His eyes are so pretty, and that smile—someone help me before I say screw dinner and just start kissing him again.
Because, of course, his lips are softer than a freaking pillow.
“Wow.” He opens the door and the simple three letter word comes off his lips effortlessly.
“Hi,” I say, smiling.
“You look really pretty, come in.” He opens the door wider and steps to the side to let me pass.
“Thank you. It smells really good in here,” I say, removing my shoes.
His apartment is becoming one of my favorite places to be, which is saying a lot since I’ve only been here twice. But I’m instantly comfortable. The same way I am around him in general.
“It’ll be done in about five minutes. Grab yourself a drink if you want—there’s some decaf coffee in the fridge and some other things too.”
“You know, just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t. I know you like a beer here and there, maybe even an old fashioned.”
The fridge is stocked with beverages and food. A major contrast to what I previously knew about his empty fridge.
Liam’s standing against the counter, two bowls in front of him as he starts plating the food. He layers things, beginning with the rice and then some corn, followed by everything else. He looks good in the kitchen. Almost as good as he looks on the football field.
“I know.” He shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t drink a lot during the season. But you’re right, I do love to have one now and then.”
I nod as I come up to his side. There’s a mixture of aromas around me and it’s making my stomach growl, it smells so fresh and so appetizing.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says, turning to me. There’s a pair of tongs in his hand that he uses almost as a wand, waving it around when he speaks, and I pull my lips together to avoid laughing at the very cute gesture. “I’m not feeling a drink right now, but I promise not to hold back if I end up wanting one later.”
“Go crazy,” I tease, and his lips curl up as he finishes plating the meal.
He brings both bowls to the kitchen island, then grabs napkins and utensils before he pulls out one of the barstools for me.
“This looks really amazing, thanks for cooking.”
Liam unties the apron, pulling it off his body and places it on the counter before he takes a seat next to me.
“Any time.”
We eat in silence for the most part. Each looking at one another every so often, nodding our heads in agreement that this dish is fucking good. Likegood, good. If I didn’t walk into him actually cooking, there’s a chance I would’ve given him shit about ordering takeout and pretending he made it.
Both of us clear our bowls and he even goes back for seconds after inhaling the first helping.
I can’t help but notice his phone has been buzzing on and off for the last hour, and even though I’m trying to ignore it and be nonchalant…I am, in fact, very nosy about it.
“Should we finish our puzzle?” he asks just before it buzzes again.
“You don’t have to avoid your calls or texts on my account, Liam. If someone needs you or something, just answer the phone.”
There’s a bite in my words. It’s unintentional for the most part, but after all the bullshit I went through with my ex, I’d rather not be a fool again.
