She steps back, panting as she puts distance between us like it’s a safety measure. Her eyes are on the ground in front of her, chest rising and falling. The distance does nothing to undo the tension. It only sharpens it.
I don’t move.
Neither does she.
“Scottie,” I say, softer than I mean to.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers, looking up at me.
I don’t answer—I can’t.
Deep in my bones, I know she’s right, but I don’t want her to be right. When my mouth curves into a smile, her cheeks turn a shade of red in the soft glow of my porch light. She turns her head again like that’ll keep me from seeing it, but it’s too late. I’m already memorizing her. The way you study a structure before you ever swing a hammer because you know one wrong move changes everything.
I’ve never wanted to kiss someone I shouldn’t so damn badly.
I could tell her that—the truth.
That I can’t stop thinking about her laugh.
Or the way she looks when she’s not putting up her walls.
Instead, I step closer again. Just enough that I can feel her warmth and smell that vanilla again. Close enough that the line between real and fake starts to blur in a way that scares the hell out of me.
Her hand lifts like she’s going to stop me.
Instead, it lands on my chest, fingers curling into my flannel like she needs something solid to hold onto. As soon as my hands come up, ready to take her face in my hands and claim her with my mouth to hers, she steps back. She pauses, shaking her head, only to put more distance between us, thinking it will save us.
“Good night, Tucker,” she whispers.
I nod because if I say anything, I’ll ruin everything we’re pretending isn’t happening.
She disappears up the stairs and into the loft, while my feet stay planted where she left me, with only one thought on my mind.
One of us is going to get hurt when this is all done.
I already know it’s me.
EPISODE THREE
THE KITCHEN CLASH
Previously onNailedIt or Failed it, Scottie and Tucker rebuilt the front porch and nearly took each other out in the process.
This week, we’re cooking up chaos in a kitchen so outdated that it may qualify for historical preservation. These two will tackle a kitchen soaked in 1970s mustard yellow with crackled cabinets and peeling linoleum. They’re armed with sledgehammers and a plan that was never stress tested as they prepare for what’s ahead. Tension is thick and the question isn’t what will break, but who will snap first?
Can these two keep it together long enough to demo safely?
Or will the biggest blow not come from a hammer at all?
CHAPTER 14
TONE IT DOWN, ROMEO.
Scottie
The kitchen looks even worse under the studio lighting the producers insisted we use.
Which does nothing to ease the anxiety that’s been building up inside of me.
