“Yes,” Zef agreed, taking another step back. “Goodnight, Bryce.”
“Goodnight.”
Another step.
“Sleep well,” they said, and Bryce propped his shoulder on the door jamb with another one of those boyish, crooked smiles.
“You too.”
Another step, and they bumped into the wall. They yelped in surprise but caught themself before they fell over. “There is a wall here.”
“Yup. It’s been there since I moved in,” he said, and that smile was unfairly flustering now.
“I seem to have forgotten,” they said as they side-stepped down the hall, lower hands on the wall to ensure they did not run into it again.
Bryce propped a hand on his hip, looking far too smug as he said, “I can see that.”
“Do not look so pleased with yourself,” they scolded, and gods, that grin sharpened.
“Why? I quite like seeing you this way.”
With an embarrassing chirp, Zef balked, wings buzzing in agitation. “That is—you can not—entirely inappropriate,” they stammered as they backed out of the hallway.
“Goodnight, Zef,” Bryce said, and another full-body wave of tingles rushed over them. Two innocent words, but it was the way he said them. Heavy and crooning.
They narrowed their eyes suspiciously. “Are you attempting to woo me?”
With a laugh, he shook his head and stepped into his room, only his head and one hand visible around the frame. “Not yet.”
“Your audacity is astounding,” they sniffed haughtily, and he absolutely beamed at them.
“You’re cute when you blush,” he said before he ducked into this room and shut the door.
They gasped in outrage, nearly stamping their foot like a hatchling as they said, “And you are a complete scoundrel. Go back to bed immediately and take your philandering with you.”
The only response they received was the echo of his laugh, and gods, if it did not fill their chest to bursting.
Chapter eighteen
Extenuating Circumstances
Bryce
The next morning, Bryceawoke first. He brewed enough coffee for them both, then heated the kettle in case Zef would want tea instead. In the mood for French toast, he sliced some of Zef’s homemade bread and whipped up an egg wash usinghunleteggs, cinnamon, and a pinch ofkanyl, a Hellian spice that was similar to cinnamon but with a spicy edge to it.
As he fried the toast on the skillet, he heard noise from Zef’s bedroom, and nerves exploded in his belly. Last night had been a rollercoaster of emotions, but he was feeling centered now. Not to say that he wasn’t anxious to see how Zef felt this morning, after sleeping on things, but he didn’t feel off balance and lost like he had last night.
Zef’s bedroom door opened when Bryce was cooking the last pieces of French toast, and he glanced over his shoulder, drinking in the sight of the Mantodea. They were already watching him with large, white eyes, top hands smoothing the collar of their fluffy, pink robe, their lower handsfidgeting with the tie. Their hair was in a messy braid, their feet covered in their fuzzy, pink slippers.
Bryce smiled at them, and their cheeks flushed dark green instantly. “Good morning,” he said, and they fiddled with the end of their braid as they returned the greeting bashfully.
Sometimes, they were so adorable he could barely stand it. His arms itched to pull them into an embrace, to rub the tension from their back and smooth the concerned wrinkle between their brows. Maybe one day, they’d let him reassure them that way. For now, he simply turned back to the stove to keep the toast from burning.
Approaching cautiously, Zef paused at even intervals, like they were measuring their comfort level as the distance shrank. Their gaze was heavy on the back of Bryce’s neck, but he didn’t turn around. He gave them the time they needed as he finished the food and turned off the burner.
“Thank you for the coffee,” they said as they filled their Sunday coffee mug.
“You’re welcome.” Bryce retrieved the honyl from the cupboard and the powdered sugar from under the kitchen island. “You sleep okay?”
