“Busy,” he repeated, with more than a trace of skepticism. She looked down at the ground and crossed her arms, thenuncrossed them when she realized how suspicious her body language was.
“I’m not avoiding you,” she lied. “I swear.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Neither of them moved. Merritt knew what he was waiting for, but she was reluctant to give it to him.
Shehadbeen avoiding him, obviously, ever since their trip to Silverton. Spending that much quality time with him had kind of knocked her sideways, and not in a way she’d expected or could even articulate. In a way that she couldn’t blame on a well-balanced face or disproportionately broad shoulders or even overpowering pheromones.
She’d hoped that getting to know him better might kill her physical attraction to him, which was what usually happened within five minutes of conversation with anyone who was too hot for their own good. Instead, she’d just learned that he loved painting and disco and his grandmother and that he smelled so good it made her a little lightheaded, which had only made things worse. It certainly wouldn’t help to put herself in a position to learn anything else.
She’d needed some time to regroup before she was ready to face him again, and, as was usually the case, days had turned to weeks before she knew it.
She met his eyes, which looked black and bottomless in the low light of the studio. “So…I’ll come by this weekend, then? You can show me…whatever you want to show me?”
He cocked his head and smiled a little. “You’re not doing me a favor here. It’syourhouse.”
Shame coiled through her. She was being a brat, all because she had a stupid crush on him and didn’t know how to handleit. But acting like a hormonal teenager was no longer cute halfway through her thirties.
“You’re right. Sorry.” She gave up trying to take the other mat from him and started toward the door. He fell into step beside her. “All the pictures you’ve been sending me have been great. I know I’m in good hands.”
Do NOT think about being in his hands.
He grinned. “Thanks. It’s been fun so far. It’s a really incredible space.”
“Yeah,” she replied blandly, following him out of the studio door to where Olivia was waiting.
They piled into Niko’s truck, which Merritt noted had been tidied considerably since the last time she was in it. After another split-second eyes-only negotiation with Olivia that she once again lost, Merritt took the middle spot on the bench. She tried to lean as much as possible into Olivia, who shot her an annoyed look and jabbed her with her elbow.
The studio was only half a mile from their house, so the drive couldn’t have been more than five minutes—but if someone had told Merritt it was an hour, she’d believe it. Niko and Olivia chatted about something or other, and she may have even joined in, but all she could focus on was the spot where her thigh was squished against Niko’s, warm and rock-solid.
As soon as he pulled up in front of the house, it was all Merritt could do not to push Olivia out of the truck’s cab before he’d even come to a complete stop. As she slammed the door, Niko managed to squeeze out a “See you this weekend?”
“Weekend!” she repeated brightly, waving at him through the window before hurrying inside.
Olivia retreated to her room immediately, Merritt following soon after with two steaming mugs of peppermint tea. Sheperched on the side of the bed as Olivia propped herself against a mountain of pillows before taking her mug, blowing gingerly.
“You wanna watch a movie or something? I emailed my supervisor and told her I need to take a sick day.”
Olivia’s data science job had gone fully remote several years ago, around the same time Dev had sold his first book, spurring them to relocate from New Jersey to their favorite vacation spot. They’d met here fifteen years ago on a college ski trip organized by mutual friends, drawn together by the fact that they were the only two who didn’t actually do any winter sports but had tagged along out of a mutual desire to drink hot cocoa and read by a fire. They’d fallen in love with the town and with each other simultaneously, returning every year after for almost a decade before deciding to make the leap for good. Like retirement without the retirement, Olivia had explained to her.
Somehow, they managed to both work from home without killing each other. Having their own workspaces probably helped—the other side of their bedroom had been transformed into Olivia’s office, while Dev worked out of the third bedroom, where he was currently in the middle of a contract ghostwriting a popular series of espionage thrillers. They were also less on top of each other during the school year, when he taught writing classes as an adjunct at the local liberal arts college.
“Sure.” Merritt climbed up next to her, hugging a pillow to her stomach as Olivia scrolled through their options.
“Ooh, have you heard ofBottoms Up? It’s this new dating show where the contestants have to choose who they want to marry based only on their butts.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“So you’re down?”
“Obviously.”
Olivia hit play, and the two of them settled in.
“So is it, like, naked butt? Underwear butt? Jeans butt? That makes a big difference,” Merritt mused. Olivia shushed her, and before they knew it, they were both completely absorbed—even though Olivia had to pause several times to go throw up again.
