“One too many, apparently,” I giggle. “I was told the treats still exist, and if you lied to me, I’m going to dump you.”
“Dump me?” he asks. “Moving a little fast there, Hellcat?” I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or not, and I freeze, trying to read him, but there’s a little smirk on his face, and his eyes are the lightest shade of blue I’ve ever seen.
“We’re working backwards here, I've already moved in…” I throw out the joke, and mid-sentence, he sits up, presses his hand into my hair, and takes my bottom lip between his. “About those beignets…” I say jokingly as he pulls back slightly, this warrants a long groan from his throat, but he reaches to the bedside table to grab them. I, too distracted and too drunk to notice he had even set them there, hum with excitement.
“Open up,” he says, cradling the bowl in one hand and grabbing a beignet between his fingers with the other.
“You’re gonna feed it to me?” I sit up a little straighter, hyperfixated on the way his eyes follow my every movement.
“It’s the only way to ensure you don’t get powdered sugar all over my bed,” he says and holds it out to me. I wrap my lips around it without breaking eye contact, and I feel his whole body go taut. I chew the confection with a smile on my face as he steals the other half and cleans his fingers. “These are really good,” he says, as I lick my bottom lip and look up at the stars on the ceiling.
“Did you do that on purpose?” I ask about them, brave with liquor and high on his gaze.
He nods.
“Hit me,” I point to the bowl and ignore how warm his quiet confession makes me feel. “You know the girls—”
“I don’t care, Rhea,” Brighton cuts in. “Whatever they said aboutthis. I don’t care.” It’s not that he doesn't care about them or their opinions; it's that he holds what’s going on between us in high regard. I see that. It’s written all over his handsome face. “Even Day.” He cuts off my thoughts as they come through. “You four share everything. Let me be selfish with you. Just for a little while, until we—”
“Figure this out?” I finish for him, and he grabs my chin with a stern nod. “Okay,” I whisper as he kisses me gently, our bodies leaning against each other as it deepens and unlocks all the closed doors between us.
“You taste like vodka,” he groans against my mouth.
“And sugar,” I giggle and keep kissing him.
“And sugar,” he confirms, tangling that hand back into my hair, setting the bowl aside, and pulling me down against him until there’s no space between us anymore.
Brighton wanders into the apartment after dropping Daisy off at her mom’s, scowling, a bag in his hand. “Here.”
“Oh, hello to you too…” I dry my hands on the towel by the sink as he kicks his shoes off and puts them away.
“Open it.” He points to the bag as he hangs his keys.
I roll my eyes at his dismissal and dig into the bag. “You didn’t…” I pull the box out and hold it in my hands. “Brighton.”
“You’ve been sulking around.” He wanders away as I look at the headphone box and smile, my eyes lifting to find him disappearing down the hallway like the gift is no big deal. And maybe it’s not to him, but to me, it means everything. When he returns, I’ve got them out of the box, they’re sleek and dark purple and fit over my ears perfectly. “I couldn’t find the stupid—” he motions up and down over his chest.
“It’s okay, I love the purple. They’re comfy too.” I slip the headphones off and set them down. “You really didn’t have to do this.”
“Say thank you.” He stares at me; it’s not a demand, he doesn’t even want the praise or the gratitude. He just wants me to stop fussing over his kindness.
“Thank you,” I repeat back to him.
“What are you doing?” His eyes scan the kitchen across the mess I’ve made.
“Well… Iwastrying to cook you dinner, in a pathetic attempt to ask if you want a couch date with me?” I string the words together and straighten out to hide the mess with my body.
“Couch date?” His heavy brow furrows as he surveys the damage. “What’s wrong with a real date?” I can see he's panicking, questioning whether or not we’re even ready for that.
“It’s quiet, less busy, no variables,” I explain. “Just us.”
“And what were you attempting to make?” He cocks his head to the side.
"Sushi, but the rice got too sticky, and the nori’s gone soggy,” I groan, raising my rice covered fingers in defeat. “I’m a mess.”
“To your core, Hellcat.” He agrees softly. “I’ll clean up. Youordersushi.”
I nod, letting him shuffle me out of the way, but not before he steals the softest kiss. I’m still not used to the tenderness that follows around Brighton in the quietness of his own space. But I like it.A lot.
