“I made fajitas for dinner, there’s cheese, and Greek ranch sauce. They are all different: chicken, steak, and shrimp. There’s plenty in the kitchen if you want more,” I mumble, looking down at the food in my hands.
I try not to let my fingers tremble as I hold the plate, and I also don’t know why I can’t look at him. Maybe because I don’t want him to judge me. Or maybe I am waiting for some kind of rude comment that I know will never come.
“Thanks, it looks good,” he says, taking the plate from me. When he does, I look up to see him already looking at me.
I nod slowly.
He holds my gaze. It’s intense, like he wants to say something, but doesn’t.His eyes are striking, fierce but not mean. Briar only looks at me like I’m a stain on his tie, not with tenderness or care like Beckett is looking at me right now.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you’d like to join me,” I say, quickly turning and leaving. My cheeks heat realizing that I was staring at him for way too long. I close the door to his office behind me and walk back to the kitchen.
I grab the plate I made for myself and sit down on one of the barstools at the island. I pull my knee up to my chest as I use one hand to eat my food, and the other to scroll through my phone.
I didn’t post a lot today, but the video I posted yesterday is doing really well.
140k Likes-3,083 Comments-342 Favorites-1473 New Followers
Any videowhere I get followers is a good video. A lot of times, I’ll get a video that performs well, but I don’t get any followers from it, and that’s ok. But it always makes my day when my follower count goes up.
To me, it means that they don’t just like my video; it means they likeme.
I smile to myself as I scroll through my drafts, uploading a video I made earlier while I was unpacking my stuff.
My content usually performs better when I post at night, anyway.
I’m in the middle of making a photo carousel for Flykr when Beckett surprises me with his presence. His food is half eaten, and I frown.
“Is it not good?” I ask, setting my phone down and looking up to meet his eyes.My voice is a lot softer than I mean for it to be.
“The opposite,” he says, sitting down next to me and taking a bite of one of the fajitas.
I nod and turn back to my food. For the rest of dinner, neither of us says anything as we eat in silence. I smile to myself when he gets up to make himself a second plate.
After dinner, he excuses himself and goes back to his office.
I clean up, packing the food into containers for easy meal prep.
Before I put everything up, though, I grab a container and put a little bit of all the meats in it.
I then grab a packet of pre-made instant rice, a thing of smashed avocado, and some of the Greek ranch sauce I made. I put it all into a black lunch box and place it in the fridge, with a little note.
I then store everything else in the fridge, making sure the kitchen looks spotless before grabbing the rest of my stuff, heading upstairs to finish my Flykr post, and getting ready for bed.
Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad staying here. It would be like having an invisible roommate.
His presence is there, but he isn’t.
I can do this.
4
BECKETT
Sixteen hours.
That’s all it took for my neat, clean life to go up in chaos.
The Sloane who knocked on my door was not the same girl who had braces and wore baggy hoodies.
