Joss shrugs like it’s nothing. “Harrison wanted to name the chicken sandwich after Finn. I left him and Tanner alone with that concept and they ran up the walls with it.”
I can see that. Joss’s name is attached to four of the menu items. Which makes sense. He fuckin’ cooks them.Bowenis the hot farmer from Cheesefactory Road. I know he’s hot because Joss told me—
Oh hell no. That’s not jealousy burning my blood. It can’t be. I’m not that guy. Even if we were married or some shit, I’mnot that guy. People are hot. People notice. Same as they do the sky is fuckin’ blue. So why does this dude’s name make me wanna die just a tiny little bit?
Because you like Joss.
It’s not rocket science, but it makes me squirm all the same. It takes Joss bringing his knife down hard on the cutting board to snap me out of it.
He’s smashing garlic to go with the lemon peel he’s already minced. Vegetables. Smoked almonds. I remember now. I watch him bring it together, moving around the kitchen like he does. Like poetry. I know it doesn’t come as easy as it looks, but I love seeing him like this.
I like eating the results too. Green shit and nuts. It’s magic. Who knew?
Joss cleans up. I help him, scooping up the random things he forgets. Things that are right in front of him, but he can’t seem to see. I run the dishwasher while he cleans the counters.
He grins at me through the steam. “You don’t have to help.”
“I want to.”
“Why?”
So many answers. I go with the simple one. “I want to be where you are.”
“That’s cute, Fletcher.”
“Molly calls me that.”
“She’s cute too.” Joss slips out of the kitchen. He comes back a second later with a single bottle of the Belgian beer I know he likes to drink from time to time. “Come share this with me?”
“In the bar?”
“Nah. Upstairs.”
I don’t need asking twice. I brave the thickened crowds and trail him up the stairs to the apartment. He takes a shower. So do I. Then it’s just us, the couch, and the bottle of Leffe.
Joss stands in front of me while I sit. He’s wearing a smile and the sweatpants that sit low on his hips. “Is it weird that I’ve missed you?”
“Only if it’s weird that I missed you too.”
“You were asleep on the couch every time I came home.”
“Kick me next time.”
Joss wedges himself between my legs. I don’t know if he means to bring his dick to my eye level, but that’s what happens. And I look.
I can’t stop.
Joss grips my chin. “Eyes up here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to know I didn’t wake you up for a reason.”
“What reason?”
“You don’t sleep much. I kept thinking about you fucking with power tools and sawing your damn hand off because I’d knackered you out.”
“What had you done to me in that scenario?”
