Right? Surely, this will all blow up in my face, a recipe for disaster if I’ve ever seen one.
It’s even more awkward considering I haven’t spoken to Alex or Kane in a few days. After Alex called himself propositioning me and running into Kane while investigating at Wyndmoor, I needed space to clear my mind.
And then there’s whatever this is with Mountain. He’s so different from the others, and with everything that’s been going on lately, I can use his brand of simple. He’s peace and stability packed into a burly six-foot, two-hundred-something frame. It’s easy with him, and that’s something I haven’t had in a long time. He settles my nervous system, while the others have done nothing but wreak havoc on it.
So here I am, in his room, staring at pictures from his childhood and taking in just how methodical his space is. Everything in its place, and there’s not a speck of dust in sight. Shoes are perfectly shelved on the wall. Hockey gear is stacked neatly inthe corner behind the door. His bed is made to perfection, the corners tucked and pillows fluffed.
I stroll over to the books arranged by trim size on his bookshelf. It’s an array of topics from textbooks to sports magazines and a handful of fiction titles.
The bathroom door flies open, and Mountain steps into the room. I peer at him as his eyes roam over my frame. There’s a softness in his gaze that I haven’t seen him give anyone else.
Lately, the air seems to still when he looks at me. At first, it caught me off guard, made me feel vulnerable. Now I welcome his attention. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the fact that with him, I never feel judged or mocked. When the world is so busytellingme who I am, Bryden sees me for me, every broken inch.
Yes, I’ve crossed a line I can’t come back from with both Alex and Kane, but Mountain? He’s the one I’m not sure about. He’s always kind, always respectful. But he never makes a move, never slips, and never relents.
“Come on. Let’s knock out this project.” He crosses the space while his eyes remain fixed on me, and for a moment I freeze. He towers close, peering down at me as I stand there like a deer in headlights. I lean in, our chests only a hair apart. When I breathe deep, so does he.
“Sam,” he utters my name. It’s low, and if I didn’t know better, it’s sensual.
“Yes?” I whisper.
“I need you to move so I can get into the closet.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” I stammer and move to the side and suck in a breath.
The sound of the closet door fills the space, followed by the ruffling of a plastic bag.
He closes the door and gestures for me to follow him over tothe desk. After setting the bag of supplies down, Mountain walks over to the left corner of the room to grab another chair, holding it out for me to sit. We briefly make eye contact again as I settle into the chair and allow him to push me closer to the desk. Mountain claims his spot, his leg brushing against mine, and I squirm.
As he settles and removes things from the bag, his legs spread ever so slightly. I can’t help but take in his thickness. Ever since walking in on him that night, it’s hard not to let my mind wander. And right now, in his room alone with him, my eyes find their way to that bulge, and I have to force myself to look away.
He lays everything out in front of us. I should be paying attention, mentally preparing myself to work on the project. Instead, I’m busy watching the veins in his forearm every single time he reaches in front of me.
For the next hour, we work through our notes and piece our structure together. Working alongside Mountain is easy. He listens intently, never tries to control the narrative, and truly values my input. He’s always on time and actually puts in as much effort as me.
Mountain puts the final screw into place then sits back, his hands out at his side as if it’ll come crashing down if he moves too quickly.
“Done,” he says proudly.
“Oh we’re definitely getting an A.”
Mountain looks at me. “I’m glad you think so.”
“And you don’t? The calculations are solid, we’ve tested and proved our theory, and it’s sturdy. We’ve got this in the bag.”
“I love your confidence.”
I smile at that, throwing my gaze around to mask the heat I feel rushing to my cheeks. He moves to clean up the leftover supplies, tossing scraps into the plastic bag.
I stand and go back to browsing his books.
He glances at me between each piece he picks up. “What?”
Holding up one, a popular graphic novel about a superhero kid, I smirk, my brow cocked.
He scratches his nape. “Yeah. I’ve been doing a buddy read with my little brother.”
“So?” Smiling, I return it to its place next to the others.
