Headphones in,music turned up loud, I put the knife down and scooped up the veggies I’d chopped and threw them into the salad. A hand wrapped around my hip as fingers pulled out the AirPod, making me scream with shock.
“What ya doing?” Jasper whispered in my ear.
I spun around, realising that I was caged in, trapped between the counter and his arms and chest, which were currently covered in a tight white t-shirt, that showed off his tanned skin and the sleeve of sea-themed tattoos that ran from his collarbone to his wrist of his right arm. Mermaids, a ghost ship, fish; the man had it all.
I looked up, my heart hammering from the shock. “What the fuck, Jas? I could have stabbed you.”
“I waited until you put the knife down. You were having a proper little disco while you chopped.” He seemed different. Playful. It had been a while since I’d seen him like this.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, taking my other AirPod out and putting it on the side.
“Probably for about three songs, if those move changes were anything to go by.” He held up the headphone he was still holding, listening to what was playing, chuckling as he cocked his brow at me. “Taylor Swift? Really?”
I slapped his chest, staring up at him, giving myself a second to dream about what life could be like. Where Jas and I were like this every day: working together, living together, me cooking for him, curling up on the sofa together, me bending him over the counter and fucking him until he came, screaming my name.
And there it was.
The slight blip in mine and Jasper’s otherwise perfect relationship.
I was in love with my best friend.
My best friend who was moving back to the UK.
My very straight, and not at all interested in me in that way, best friend.
THREE
JASPER
We sat on the beach,bellies full of the dinner I’d gatecrashed, the light from our next door to each other’s houses illuminating the clear night. It was still warm and pretty early, so a few people walked along the water’s edge.
I leant my hands back on the cool sand and took a deep breath, trying not to think about what my view would be like when I moved home.
“What will you do when you move back, and you don’t live next door to someone who will cook your dinner every night?” Travis nudged his shoulder into mine, his touch sending excitement careering through my veins. It had been happening more and more lately—he touched me in some innocent way, and my body lit up like someone had set fireworks off. I had no idea why or when it started, but I now craved contact with him.
I huffed out a laugh at how messed up my life felt. Travis and work were the only things good about it, and I was giving up this pretty amazing, idyllic life we’d built for what? Something ‘normal’?
“What’s so funny?” Travis turned to look at me.
“Just thinking, I could get a wife to cook my dinner.”
He tutted. “It’s not the 1950s, Jas. Not sure you can get a wife to take care of you anymore.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Well, for now, I’ll be your 50’s housewife. Come inside, husband, and let’s watch a movie while I rub your feet.” I pushed myself up to stand, dusting the sand off me as Travis did the same. “I’m not watchingThe Princess Diariesthough,” he announced.
“Spoilsport. It’s a classic.”
We walked back into the house just as the thunder rolled in the distance. “Are we meant to have a storm tonight?” I asked. Travis shook his head in reply.
“I probably should go check the boat. I’m sure I tied it off securely, but I don’t know if it’s storm secure.” He glanced up at the sky. Travis’ boat was his baby and had the brand new, very expensive submersible on the back that he’d not even got to try yet, so he’d panic all night if we didn’t check.
“Come on. I’ve only had one beer. I’ll drive us down there.”
He turned his head to me. “Are you sure? You don’t have to come.”
I quirked my brow. “Yes, I’m sure, and I do. I’m not sending you out in the dark on your own.”
