“Well, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I like teasing you.”
I blink at him, caught off guard. I’m unsure if I should be flattered or offended. “Oh.”
“You get this little crease between your eyebrows. Righthere.” And then, I kid you not, he reaches out and touches the spot with his finger. I suck in a sharp breath, caught off guard, and my heart—my stupid, traitorous heart—starts pounding again with a ferocity that I’m certain he can hear.
“I do not,” I say quickly.
He laughs a little, a soft, deep rumble that does weird things to my insides, and watches me with something almost like…affection? “You do. It’s cute.”
It’s cute.
If my heart wasn’t thumping viciously before, it is now, and for once, I’m at a loss for words. I’m not kidding. My mouth just kind of flaps open and closed while my brain goes blank, and I’d probably be embarrassed if I could think straight. Landon sits back on the couch with another self-satisfied smirk, reaches for the remote, and puts the show back on like he didn’t just use the wordcutein reference to something related tome.
I try to focus on the remainder of the episode, but again, it’s difficult. I can’t concentrate, hyper-aware of the man beside me. Of the damp hair curling softly across his forehead, of the black sweatpants that hug his perfectly toned thighs, of the soft-looking t-shirt stretching tight across his defined chest.
When the credits roll and Landon starts cleaning up the living room, my brain finally reboots, and I scramble to help him. It doesn’t take long with two people, and when everything’s returned to its normal, spotless state, we just sort of look at each other.
I can’t tell if there’s a weird tension in the air or if I’m imagining it. Probably imagining it. “Well,” I say, clearing my throat. “Thanks for watching.”
“Sure. It was…” he trails off, searching for the right word. I’m half-expecting something along the lines ofpainful, agonizing, torture,but he surprises me again. “Fun.”
I blink at him. I never thought I’d hearthat wordcome out of his mouth in a completely non-sarcastic way. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.”
We stare at each other some more, and the corner of his mouth does that weird twitchy thing where I can’t tell if he’s trying not to smile or trying not to frown. “Well, goodnight,” he says after a while.
I give a quick nod. “Yeah. Yeah, goodnight.”
He gives me a final strange glance and leaves the room. Moments later, I hear his footsteps on the stairs, and I release a quiet breath. I wait a couple minutes before following him up.
I haven’t given much thought to the fact that Landon sleeps right down the hall from me until now because it never seemed important. He had his side of the house, and I had mine. But now…now I can’t stop thinking about it. About the proximity.
I’m thankful I never saw him and my sister share a bedroom, because if I did, all I’d be able to picture would be him and her and what I’m sure they’ve done a billion times. And not just sex. The pure intimacy of sleeping next to someone. Of sharing their space. Brushing your teeth beside them. Letting your guard down as soon as you close your eyes and not having to put it back up when daylight peeks through the blinds.
It’s something I’ve never experienced before, but I’ve imagined it, longed for it, more than I would like to admit. The late-night kisses and the early morning whispers. The subtle touches, the tangled arms and feet. The stuff that comes after sex. The tender moments shared like secrets.
The house is quiet as I ready for bed. It’s not until I’m tucked beneath the covers that I touch the spot between my eyebrows, the spot Landon traced with his finger.
I can’t help it. I smile.
THIRTY
After I finish applying sunscreen to my arms, I toss the bottle into the beach bag, along with a colorful towel and the scones I baked last night. Shoving my feet into a pair of silver flip flops, I adjust the shimmery sarong at my waist, excited for my day off.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Jake:What time are we meeting again?
I’m midway through typing out a response when Landon wanders into the kitchen, dressed in his normal work clothes despite the summer heat. I glance up from my phone to find him eyeing my bikini, but I can’t tell if his look is disapproving or admiring. Maybe a bit of both. My face flushes, but I chalk it up to the ninety-degree temperature.
“Don’t you have work?” Landon asks. “You always work Saturdays.”
“Nah, the dining room’s closed today,” I tell him. “They’re repainting or something. We’re hitting the beach.”
His mouth tugs down at the corner, and he studies me with that dark gaze. “Who’swe?”
“Just Sienna, Brit, Jake, and Ollie.”
“Who are they?”
