I shrug, then lean back against the counter while the coffee machine fills the first cup.
“We never meant any harm by it. Sure, we swapped places for a test or presentation in high school, but most of the time it was just to prank our friends and– oh, come on, don’t look at me like that.” I roll my eyes when instantly there’s this air of judgment around him again, his brows pinched.
“What you did is basically cheating. You know that, right?”
I take a deep breath to prevent myself from throwing an egg at his face.
“No, but thank you for making me aware. I will now do the only right thing and return my high school diploma—Jesus Christ, Hart! Don’t tell me you weren’t up to a little mischief at that age.”
“I had other worries then.”
I snap my mouth shut with an audible clank of my teeth. It’s common knowledge that Hart was adopted by his mothers after the death of his parents. But he never made any details public; in fact, this is the first time I’ve heard him reference it.
Probably by accident, because his hand flies up to his mouth in a belated attempt to keep the words in.
I shift in my spot, very aware that there’s no good response to this, nothing I can do to make this situation any less awkward.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out after another moment of no sound other than the coffee maker filling up the second cup. “That you had those worries, I mean.”
It’s a true sentiment. No stupid-ass fight could be big enough to wish that on any of my rivals.
“Don’t be. I have wonderful mothers.”
I blink once, and he’s back to his usual self, posture straight and eyes hard, like he’s gearing up for a face off. But there’s a slight tremble to his fingers as he’s reaching for the eggs.
“So no reason to act nice just because you feel sorry for me,” he adds as he cracks the first egg on the edge of the counter. There’s way too much force behind it, the egg white spraying the surface and then slowly dripping to the floor. Hart curses and dumps the egg, along with some of the shell, into the cold pan.
“What’s wrong with feeling sorry for your loss? It’s a horrible experience to go through,” I tell him cautiously as I watch him try to fish out the pieces of shell with his fingers.
“You don’t need to find another reason for why the Rebels drafted me. You know, losing my parents in addition to me being gay.”
I huff, taken aback by his words. “I never said you got draftedbecauseyou are gay. That’s what you made out of it in your fucking head.”
“Is that so? Because I’m pretty sure we can still find the sound bite online and– fuck!”
I bite the inside of my cheek against a laugh. Hart has stepped into the small puddle of egg white on the floor, slipping and stubbing his toe against the kitchen island. Letting out another string of curses, he leans against the opposite counter, rubbing his foot.
“What are you even doing here?” I finally ask, gesturing around us in an attempt to escape all of these uncomfortable topics.
“Making breakfast.”
“Ah, good to know. It looks more like a crime scene.”
Hart glares at me as he still balances on one foot. “I wanted to surprise your parents as a thank you for hosting me over the holidays,” he huffs out, a pink flush blooming on his cheeks.
I grab one of the coffee cups, mainly to hide my grin behind as I take the first sip. “And here I thought you were trying to impress me.”
“What, the orgasm I gave you wasn’t impressive enough?”
I snort into my coffee at that, the hot liquid burning my tongue and throat. Hart snickers, and I glare at him while I cough and bend over the sink.
“You actually don’t deserve this,” I inform him as I press the second cup of coffee into his hand a moment later, then shoo him away from the stove.
Hart retreats with quiet protest, pulling himself up to sit on the counter, his long legs dangling next to me while he observes my actions with quiet curiosity.
“You know how to cook?”
“It’s scrambled eggs, Hart, not rocket science.” I extract the last pieces of shell with the tip of a knife before pouring the sad yolk into a bowl. Despite my words I can’t help showing off by cracking the next egg one-handedly.
