“Can I make pancakes?” I scoff, hand pressed to my heart in mock offense. “Please. It’s theonlything I can make, thanks to Halle, and a little birdy told me that lemon pancakes are your favorite.”
Her eyes narrow at me, and I send her a wink before turning for the kitchen. I hear her footsteps following behind me, feel her warmth skimming across my back, hercitrus scent wrapping around me. The heaviness between us lifts to something lighter.
“Is your little birdy by any chance”—she lifts a hand to her shoulder, measuring the height—“about this tall, has blonde hair to here, kinda looks like me, lives in scrubs, andlovesmeddling in my life?”
I laugh, loud and carefree for the first time in what feels like forever. I don’t answer her because we both know she’s right. And if I admit that her momismy little birdy, I’d have to tell her that’s where I disappeared to this morning after coffee. How I left her sitting there so I could go fix her mom’s broken washing machine. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m doing it to get back in her good books, to score points, to win her over. That’s not what this is. Claire’s always been there for me, for everyone in this town, and no matter where Madison and I stand, I’ll always show up for her. It’s just what you do for the people who’ve never stopped showing up for you.
“You’re not denying it.” She hops onto the counter.
“Deny what?” I grab the mixing bowl from the shelf.
“That you were with my mom.”
“I’m not confirming or denying.”
I crack an egg into the bowl, keeping my eyes down. As I measure out the rest of the ingredients, I can feel her gaze burning into me. I glance up, a smirk escaping as I hand her the whisk. We fall into an easy rhythm, mixing, pouring, flipping. Every move feels natural, like we’ve done this a hundred times before. But it’s the in-between moments that have me hoping. The way her shoulder bumps mine when she reaches for the milk. The soft sound of her laugh when I spill flour across the counter. The way her eyes quickly dart away when I catch them on me. How her hair slips loose from the hair tie,framing her face in a way that makes my fingers ache to touch it. I lean over the counter as she stacks the last pancake on the plate, tucking the fallen strand behind her ear. Her breath catches, and she smiles at me with the kind of smile that reaches her eyes. Something’s shifting between us, and I don’t think either of us can pretend not to feel it anymore.
“Yo, are you guys decent?”
Asher’s booming voice carries through the house, and I drop my hand at the same time Madi steps back, eyes flicking to Asher as he strides in.
“What else would we be?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t know.” He smirks, waving a hand between us. “Halle said you guys were here alone, and who knows what one could walk in on.”
“One could also learn how to knock,” I mutter.
“Ah, I’ve never knocked on that obnoxious red door, and I’m not about to start now,” he fires back, as if he’s offended by the idea.
He pulls out a chair at the table and smiles at us.
“So, what brings you here? You know Halle’s not home, right?” I ask, taking my plate and dropping into the chair across from him. I lean over and pull the chair next to me out, motioning for Madi to come sit.
“You know, before Halle got here, I spent most of my time here, too. Can’t a guy just miss his best friend?”
“This is weird,” Madi mumbles around a mouthful of pancake.
“What’s weird?” I ask.
“Him.” She points her fork at Asher. “Not being broody and moody all the time. It’s like getting fucked daily has turned him into this new guy that can crack jokes and wants to be around people all the time. It’s weird.”
The bite of my pancake catches in my throat. I coughhard, hitting my chest as it burns on its way down. “Fuck me,” I rasp between coughs. “Not what I want to hear. Ever.”
Asher shrugs, mouth twitching as he turns to Madi. “Hey, she said it, not me.”
I glare at Madi while her laughter echoes through the room.
“Alright, fine, I was lonely. Halle’s out at dinner, Connor’s with his sister, Jace is still at work, and you two are here, so no chance of me walking in on anyone fucking.”
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “For the love of God, please no more talk about fucking.”
“Why? Are you jealous?” Asher leans back in his chair with a smug grin.
“Man, you lost your privileges to talk about fucking with me the day you fell in love with my sister. That’s a no-go zone now.”
Asher laughs, tipping his chair back on two legs. “Fair. But speaking of Halle, I wanna run something by you, and preferably without you punching me in the face.”
“Please don’t tell me you want to propose.”
