Niall and Larsonmust’ve brought spare clothes with them, because they were both clean and dry when they came out as I was finishing up with my feet.
Niall hadn’t put a shirt on, which was an absolute pleasure for me, because he was fucking gorgeous. His tattoos covered his entire upper body and arms, disappearing into the sweats he hadon. It took everything I had not to stare at them the way I so often had when we were together.
He was a painter, so it wasn’t his art, but his artist was incredible too.
I’d never been brave enough to choose art that permanent myself. Tattoos didn't usually play nicely with bargain marks, anyway. The only tattoo I had was a tiny, fine-line battery shape behind my left ear, and I’d only gotten it to prove to Niall that I wasn’t a chicken, after he’d teased me about it one day.
He had touched it all the time, afterward.
Playfully, when he was making me laugh.
With his tongue, when he wanted to drive me crazy.
With his nose, when we were cuddling.
God, I needed to stop thinking about him.
Being around him was not healthy for me. Not at all.
When Niall brought me a long-sleeve shirt he must’ve pulled out of my closet, I muttered a thank you.
He didn’t say that my tits had been distracting him again, like he would’ve when we were together. Or playfully point out his sort-of issue with me walking around in a sports bra without a shirt over it most of the time.
It was good that he hadn’t.
But I still wished he had.
"You should stay off your feet," he told me instead.
"I should do whatever I want."
He decided against arguing further, for some reason.
I slipped off the countertop and started rummaging through my fridge and pantry, pulling out a few sets of leftovers that looked like they'd be somewhat good together. I threw them in a pan, and tossed some vegetables and a few other things in to make it all work.
The men sat down in the tall, comfortable barstools at my kitchen island. They watched me as I cooked.
"What's she doing?" Larson whispered loudly.
"Fridge cleanout," Niall murmured back. "They always turn out annoyingly delicious."
"Maybe if we ask nicely, she'll share with us."
"She won't," I said flatly.
Mostly because I was starving, hadn't consumed anywhere near enough calories for the day, and Niall was still my ex for very valid reasons.
Well,onevery valid reason.
Two if you counted the fact that he wasn't my mate, but I didn't. Not really.
Together, Niall and Larson had almost managed to kill me, which was a very difficult task.
"I'll order takeout," Larson said.
Niall leaned back in his chair, like he had so many times when we were together. "You'd be better off asking if she can add it to whatever she's making."
"The answer's still no." I didn’t look up from my food.
