Brock: I’ll bring pizza for lunch. Don’t argue.
Grace: Okay then.
If he was coming over, then I needed to make more progress on the project. Thus, my cram session from hell began. Notes, sources, highlighters and note cards blurred together as I began the start of the fifty-slide presentation. I had pictures saved on my phone from the internship and the types of injuries dealt with. Airdrop saved my life. After three straight hours, my back ached, my eyes burned, but I had a good three quarters of the project done. I stretched, taking a quick shower to wake up for round two. If I was going to work all day, I was going full comfort mode—baggy sweats, an old Bulls sweatshirt, and hair in a ponytail. I put on a pair of my favorite fuzzy socks, a tradition my mom and I always had. My throat burned as I thought of her and what she would think of me right now.
Would she be proud? Happy? Would she tell me I was doing the right thing with Brock? Would she call me careless and unfocused? I never had much fun in high school. It was always work and taking care of her when she got sick. Before that, it was therapy to help my knee.
“Get the door, G!” Gilly yelled from her room, causing me to jump. I hadn’t heard anything but ran down the stairs to check and saw the massive outline of Brock holding a pizza box. I smiled with a fluttering heart. I opened the door and took in the light in his eyes, as well as the exhaustion.
Actions speak louder than words.
“Hey, Brock. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until right now. Thank you,” I said, taking the box from his hands.
“Good. I had a feeling you hadn’t eaten. When you focus on something, nothing else really matters.” A small smile formed on his lips. “I got meat lovers. I took a chance.”
“Great freaking guess.” I motioned for him to come inside. “Holy shit, this smells good.”
He chuckled, running a hand quickly down my arm in such a sweet gesture. “I forgot how much you love food.”
“Your mistake, then.” I took a piece and took a huge bite, crossing my eyes. With the piece still in my mouth, I went to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water. “Come on, you have some, so I don’t look like a total scarf hound.”
“Scarf hound?” He tilted his head just slightly.
“Ah, it’s something my mom always called me,” I said, the sadness of earlier creeping back in. “I’ve always had the metabolism of a teen boy, and when I would eat two or three burgers as a thirteen-year-old girl, she began calling me that. I realize now it could’ve done major damage to my self-confidence.”
“I love that you eat.” His blue eyes sparkled, reminding me of my favorite crayon color of all time—cerulean blue. He grabbed a piece of pizza but not before giving me a quick, heated stare. “No one should starve themselves to feel attractive. You’re perfect just the way you are. So, eat away. No judgment from me.”
I gulped, the food hard to swallow now at the way he was throwing compliments my way. I squeaked a small “oh” at him. “Well. I’m blushing now. Thanks.”
He laughed,then took a bite of the pizza and leaned against the counter in his gray running shorts and black pull over. That outfit, paired with a backwards hat, was the death of me. Well, maybe not me but definitely my morals. “How is your project coming? I worried about you.”
“Me? I worried about you!” I pointed at him, enjoying the perusal of his long torso. The pullover fit him tight enough to get the outlines of amazing muscles. “You got zero sleep last night. You have to be super tired. And you brought me pizza. You get a gold star for today.”
He set his piece down on a napkin and walked toward me. I gulped, backing into the counter. His eyes darkened, dropping down to take in my outfit. He laughed, bringing one of his hands up to my face. “You work so damn hard all the time. I enjoy helping you.”
Oh.
Okay.
Shit. That was a good line. A really good one. I bit down on my lip, my legs quivering with need at his proximity. He smelled amazing, and the need to run my nose along his neck was way too strong. His jaw tightened when I leaned toward him. “I am tired, but I wanted to get back here to see you. Once I got here, I forgot I was tired.”
I blinked. I blinked again, unable to find words. Those amazing blue eyes lingered near my mouth for more than a minute, so long that I hoped I didn’t have pizza sauce on my face. “Is there something on my face?”
“Nope. You’re good.” He grinned, breaking the stare down and moving to sit at the table. “Did you get a lot done?”
Whiplash. Again. I shook the cobwebs from my head and joined him at the table. “Yes. I have about thirty different slides entirely completed. I need about twenty more, real life examples and sources on why it is or isn’t the best practice. But, I need a break right now.”
“Anything you want to do? I took off the rest of the day, so I’m all yours.”
Was it me, or did his voice drop in that innuendo? I gulped, avoiding his gaze. “I want to pound a couple more pieces of pizza and go on a coffee run. It’ll be another late night because I’m a perfectionist.”
“Done and done. Now, pound that pizza, woman.” He nudged his shoulder with mine, earning a laugh out of me. He dug into his pizza and held my gaze. I didn’t feel self-conscious, more confused as hell. Were we flirting? Was this best friends hanging out? Ugh. I hated this shit.
“So, how was it today?”
“Eh, it was okay. If you are wondering, I had about fifty people ask where you were. I’m beginning to wonder if they know I’m the one who actually works there all the time.” The tone of his voice let me know he was joking. His words warmed me. People missed me. That was pretty cool.
“Iamawesome,” I said with a little shoulder wiggle. “What did you tell them?”
