I roll my eyes. “Trust me, you don’t.”
“Maybe you can let me decide? You might be used to hiding from the people in your life, but I don’t want you to hide fromme.” He breathes in deeply after blurting the words at his usual quick clip. “I want to know you,” he repeats, striding toward me.
I refocus on the sink, flicking the faucet on and rinsing a dish. “You’re just bored, Zach.”
His body wedges between me and the dishwasher, bringing a heat I crave. I miss the press of another person against my skin, the anticipation in my belly during the downshift right before my heart kicks into high gear.
I haven’t wanted anyone this close to me before. It scares the shit out of me how much I want to wrap myself around the man next to me. I’m acutely aware of how badly a relationship between us could end.
He breaks the silence. “Loading the dishwasher is on our list.”
My arm brushes his as I finish scrubbing the plate. I step to the side, my hands sliding to my hips. It slips my mind that they’re still wet from scrubbing dishes, all because I’m staring into the eyes of the guy who makes me question whether I need to hide my heart. I withdraw my hands, reaching for a towel by the sink to sop up the water on my pants and the floor.
“I didn’t mean to do that.” My face burns, like it’s been hit with a wave of four-hundred-degree heat from an oven. There’s no way a rare-for-me blush doesn’t illuminate my skin.
To his credit, Zach bites his lip, half smothering the amused tilt. I’m embarrassed by the way I lose control around him, that I can’tstopwanting to be around him despite the discomfort.
He gestures in the air between us. “Is this the first lesson?”
“Stop,” I warn in mock outrage, “or you’ll talk yourself out of a lesson.”
He mimes zippering his mouth before motioning toward the sink.
I can do this. It’s just showing him how to wash dishes, for fuck’s sake.
“The first step is finding the right playlist,” I say, sliding my hands into my back pocket to grab my phone. I choose a playlist aptly namedHype Cleaning Mixand the sound of a door opening bursts through the air followed by Olivia Rodrigo’s voice and an influx of percussion. “Upbeat songs are a good distraction.”
Zach nods appreciatively. “I like it. Much better than the shit they play in the locker room.”
“Oh, that would throw me off if I had to listen to a bunch of songs I hate before I compete.”
His mouth stretches into a smile that pops his cheeks. “I have selective hearing.”
I bump my shoulder into his arm. “Me too. I never heard my family tell me to stay away from gymnastics. What’s the biggest thing you’ve filtered out?”
“That I’d never make the NHL.”
“People told you that?”
He shrugs. “No one important. But yeah, a lot of people thought I was too small for the league, worried I’d be pushed around. If I wasted even a second on the doubts, it’d be too much. That’s how much of a long shot my dream was. Yours too, eh?”
“It’s more likely I’ll be struck by lightning or win an Oscar. Something mean girls in high school loved to tell me.”
Zach grins. “Good thing you have selective hearing.”
I hold up a finger. “I’m not repeating myself, so you better elect to hear what I say, or you’ll have no idea what to do.”
“I can take direction,” Zach says, his voice deeper than usual.
Goosebumps spread across my skin. I imagine that tone in my ear while he’s inside me, and heat settles low in my belly.
“I’ve been told I’m very coachable, Finley.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I give myself a moment to internally scream before focusing on the task at hand, moving dishes from the counter to the sink.
I swallow hard, then clear my throat. “Okay. So your firstseriouslesson is the importance of a good rinse.”
