I leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Besides, when it’s just me and them, I become the eternal third wheel. Ezra and Micah are so in love they make Hallmark movies seem repressed. It’s nauseating in the most heartwarming way possible. They communicate in a series of emoji-eyed glances, intimate touches, and don’t get me started on the way they wash dishes together. It’s practically foreplay. I need reinforcements, Ollie. Think of it as a rescue mission for my romantic equilibrium.”
“You don’t want a relationship like that?”
“I definitely do. Just haven’t found my person yet. I’m somewhere on the demisexual to gray-ace spectrum, so I’m what you’d say is a feelings first over body first kinda guy. If I don’t have a strong emotional bond with someone, I’m basically on airplane mode. Even with feelings, the attraction isn’t guaranteed to flip to sexual later. People don’t always love that, they want sex to be a sure thing.”
“That does seem to be the way of things,” Oliver said.
“It’s totally valid. But with me, it’s not a guarantee, which tends to shrink the dating pool. But yeah, emotional intimacy, connection that has each of you bending toward each other from the pull of it, like Ez and Micah have... I want that.”
“I do too,” Oliver whispered.
“Well, if neither of us has someone in our life like that yet, we can always live vicariously through Ezra and Micah. Their love is enough to have you singing ballads in the rain and googling engagement rings before dessert.”
“And when is this dinner?”
“Nothing locked in, but what would you say to tomorrow evening? Could be a good way to close out the week. Ezra and I are both off from nightclub duty, and it gives you the whole weekend to kick back and veg out if it turns out to be more peopling than you’re ready for.”
“I’m good with that,” he said.
“Tomorrow night it is. You, me, and the most offensively adorable couple this side of a romance novel.”
Chapter 14
Oliver
The kitchen smelled like the aftermath of a bake sale explosion. Sweet, buttery notes, with vanilla, cocoa, and faint traces of burnt sugar from the one pan I left in a few minutes too long. Cooling racks covered every inch of counter space.
Rows of golden peanut butter cookies sat beside snickerdoodles, classic chocolate chip, and double chocolate and caramel with sea salt cookies. I’d also made a couple of batches of brownies.
Luke wandered in as I slid the final tray out of the oven. “Well, damn,” he said, surveying the sweet surplus. “Are we feeding a small army, or bribing our way into their affection?”
I glanced around at the sugary confections, and yeah, okay, maybe I’d gone a little overboard. From what began as nervous energy baking, emerged the fact that I wanted Luke’s friends to like me. Not out of politeness or obligation, but really like me. I wanted them to see me as someone worth having in Luke’s life, not as the damaged stray he’d taken in.
With Vincent, I’d always been endured by association, present only because he hauled me with him to social events like luggage with a pulse. His friends appraised me like one might a squashed bug on glass—an unsightly smear that distortedthe reflection they preferred. It taught me early that likeability functioned as currency, one I could only afford if I made myself small.
I didn’t want to be tolerated as someone’s accessory, and I didn’t trust my voice to carry me across the gap into belonging. So I’d baked, telling myself it was hospitality. But now, framed by Luke’s teasing statement, the treats did kind of seem like bribery. It occurred to me that I was still trying to barter for acceptance. Different method, same old habit.
“I wanted to make a good impression,” I mumbled, embarrassment curdling my stomach. “I wanted to contribute something. They’re inviting us over and providing a meal, so it seemed polite not to show up empty-handed. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“Hey,” he said his tone shifting from teasing to sincere, as if he’d read my internal emotions. “You didn’t get carried away. I acted like a jackass with a mouth that runs faster than my brain.”
I shook my head. “You weren’t—”
“I was,” he said, not unkindly but firm enough to cut off my reflexive dismissal. “You were being thoughtful while doing something that soothes you, and I poked fun at it like an insensitive idiot. It was careless and I’m sorry. Besides, only a fool would complain over an abundance of sweetness. You can never have too much of a good thing, right?”
I stood rooted in shock. The apology had come without defensiveness and deflection. I’d learned to expect something so different from Luke’s response it almost didn’t register as real.
Vincent would’ve rolled his eyes, voice dripping with condescension, and asked why I had to be so sensitive all the time. He’d have said I should be grateful he even joked with me, that it signaled inclusion in his inner circle. He’d have turned it into a lecture about how fragile and difficult I was, and I would’ve folded under it because I always did. I would’ve smiled,told him it was fine, and been the one to apologize to make it stop.
Reaching past me, Luke plucked a peanut butter cookie from the nearest tray, taking a bite. “Holy, Batman. These are unreal. If Ezra and Micah don’t immediately declare undying loyalty after one bite, I’ll be forced to reevaluate their humanity.”
Taking another bite, he hummed low in appreciation, eyes fluttering shut. My pulse stuttered, heat flooding my face for reasons that had nothing to do with embarrassment anymore. I forced my attention to the nearest cooling rack, analyzing the cookie spacing, distribution, surface cracks, anything that might save me from the inappropriate and confusing effect Luke had on me. That did little to distract me. These breath-catching, stomach-tightening reactions to Luke were becoming harder to dismiss.
After his next bite he traced the outline of his lips, licking them clean. Shit, did I just moan? I did. That was one hundred percent a pleased sound. Albeit small, but... Oh, sweet Jesus, he licked his fingers now!? I emitted another sound of interest. No! Distress. Obviously, distress. Because if he didn’t stop, a certain body part supposed to be traumatically dormant would take avid interest in the scene playing out before me. Christ. I did not need to be composing hymns to Luke’s mouth while my body and mind still sang the pains of my last relationship.
Needing to move away from the highly inappropriate thoughts flooding my brain, I pivoted. “Do you think I should ditch half of this and only bring one batch, or maybe a sample of each so it doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard?”
“Ollie, don’t let my dumbass comment get in your head. Bring all of it. You made this with your whole heart. That’s not something you ration. Your heart isn’t something you ration, period. It’s the best part of you. Don’t shrink that down.”
