“Belladonna!”
The man jogs to the back door, Bell’s cowbell already quieting, the bovine surely far out of Dodge by now. I can’t stop my laughter as Oakley comes storming back into the kitchen.
He tosses a hand toward the backyard. “Your stew, Law. Yourstew. Can we eat her now?”
“We’re not eating the cow.”
Oakley lets out a big huffing breath, sounding a bit like Bell himself. He grabs a towel to clean up the splatter, the sight of the man down on the floor grumbling about my poor stew making my chest ache in the best way.
“Oak,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to date you.”
The man freezes, turning his head up to look at me.
“I already know everything I need to about you. I know your smile and your heart and the fact that you’re a morning person. I know how you sound when you laugh and the way it hurts me when you cry. I knowyou. I don’t need to date you to know what I want.”
He swallows heavily, leaving the towel on the ground as he stands. His eyes move slowly between my own, the blue and brown so familiar I’m fairly certain I could draw the mottled pattern by heart. “What if I want to take you out? To The Barrel or something?”
I shrug. “Then we’d go.”
“And what would we call it?”
I walk the few steps over to him, tracking the way his breathing picks up. How long has it been like this? Me affecting him this way? “We’d call it a date, I suppose.”
“But we wouldn’t be dating?”
I run a hand up the side of Oakley’s neck, his skin warm, his stubble prickling my thumb. “We’re past that, don’t you think?”
Oakley breathes shallowly through parted lips, the crook in his nose reminding me of pirates and bandana eye patches. Of sunny summer days and pixie dust on the breeze.
We’re not those boys anymore.
No, we’ve grown to be something much greater.
“You made me a promise,” I remind him.
His voice comes quiet. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”
“Like what?” I ask, bringing my other hand up to frame his face.
“Us in my kitchen,” he says roughly. “With beef stew all over the floor. There’s nothing special about this.”
“Oak, I don’t need special or extraordinary. I like ordinary quite a lot. I think this is perfect.”
He doesn’t move an inch, his hands still at his sides. “Law…”
“Are you scared?” I ask him, the panic in his eyes taking me off guard.
“A little bit. This isyou.”
“We’ve done this before. Don’t you remember?”
He shakes his head, a slow movement. “Was I conscious?”
I let out a short laugh, my hands sliding to the nape of Oakley’s neck. His shoulders come down some. “You gave me my first kiss when we were eleven.”
I can see the moment he gets it. “The acorn?”
“Mm.”
