Niko shrugged, self-conscious. “Do you know who else you’re going to ask?”
“This is where it would’ve helped to have made literally any friends over the last two years besides my sister and brother-in-law.”
“You have me, too,” he said, before he could think too hard about it.
When she paused mid-motion, he was worried he’d fucked up somehow. But instead, when she met his eyes again, herswere softer than he’d ever seen them. His heart tripped and thudded in his chest.
She glanced away. “This might be a lost cause.”
He frowned. Was she talking about them? “What?”
“Your shirt.” She gathered the damp fabric in her hands. “You should treat the stain before washing, at least. Let me get something on it.” She looked back up at him, careful to keep her gaze above his collarbone. “Do you want something else to wear for now?”
“You have something that would fit me?”
She tilted her head, finally letting her eyes sweep over his torso, but in a manner that was more assessing than leering. “I have a couple of old sleep shirts that might work. You could ask Dev, but I think your shoulders are wider than his.” She disappeared before he had time to process that she’d been mentally measuring his shoulders.
She returned a minute later, tossing a folded piece of fabric at him before turning her attention back to the stain. Niko unfolded it, extending his arms so he could see the whole thing.
It was an oversized souvenir T-shirt that readDon’t Bother Me, I’m Crabby, over a picture of a sulking cartoon crab, withOcean City, MDprinted in smaller letters beneath it. The fabric was soft and faded, like it had been washed and worn dozens of times.
He studied it, then glanced back at Merritt.
“You sleep in this?”
She shrugged, her expression blank. “Sometimes.”
He pulled it over his head. It was a little tight around his arms and chest, but not too bad.
Seeing Merritt finally unleash the grin she’d been holding back as she gave him a once-over made him want to ask her if he could keep it for good.
“They’re gonna love this out there,” he muttered under his breath.
“Well, luckily, no one’s allowed to bother you while you’re wearing it. It’s legally enforceable.” She handed him the damp lump of his other shirt before opening the fridge to switch out the abandoned seltzer can warming on the counter with a cold one.
She turned back to face him and hesitated. A breath passed, then another, her eyes locked on his.
He was seized by the crushing awareness of how close they were, how alone, and it felt like the room contracted around them at the revelation. Goosebumps prickled on the back of his neck as she studied him with those big dark eyes, her lips slightly parted, a flush still lingering on her cheekbones.
He suddenly wondered what she would do if he kissed her.
Part of him was shocked that the idea had entered his head in the first place. He’d never been the stick-his-tongue-down-her-throat-first-ask-questions-later type of guy. He suspected she’d laugh in his face if he asked for permission, but he still liked to have slightly more in the way of consent than proximity and a hunch.
Even so, something about the way she was looking at him—head cocked, eyes hooded—was scrambling his brain. It was all he could think about. He could have her hoisted onto the counter, her legs wrapped around his hips and her hands probing under his novelty crab shirt, in the blink of an eye.
He took a step closer to her. She didn’t move, but her eyes flicked down to his lips, just for a heartbeat.
Fuck. If neither of them said anything in five seconds, he was going to kiss her.
He looked down, desperate for a distraction.
“Isn’t your hand cold?”
She followed his gaze to where she was clutching her seltzer can.
“Oh. Yeah.” She passed the can to her other hand, then looked back up at him. Neither of them moved.
He’d never exchanged so many meaningful glances with someone while simultaneously having no fucking idea what any of them meant.
