He stepped closer. Not close enough to touch. But close enough that I felt his warmth.
I looked up at him. “This is getting weird, isn’t it?”
“A little,” he admitted, still smiling.
“Okay. Good talk.”
He handed me the other muffin. “Let’s just eat and pretend this isn’t a slow spiral into whatever the hell this is.”
“Perfect.”
We stood in his kitchen, both pretending the air wasn’t buzzing between us, chewing awkwardly, sipping our coffee, andnotmaking eye contact, because that’s what emotionally constipated best friends did when they were maybe-sort-of starting to catch feelings for each other.
Or not, what did I know about this kind of situation?
Chapter 4
Hunter
“Ihave to go,” she said, reaching for her things like they might protect her from whatever had just passed between us.
I nodded. Too quickly. “Yeah. Totally. Makes sense. You probably have a busy day.”
She grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder, clearly ready to leave. But she hesitated, her fingers tightening around her keys. Without really thinking, she stepped back toward me and wrapped her arms around my waist in a quick, tight hug. I hugged her back, feeling the tension and comfort mixed together, neither of us quite knowing what to do with our hands. Then she pulled away, going for a friendly kiss on my cheek—only I turned at the exact moment, and her lips grazed the corner of my mouth instead. We both froze, eyes wide, too startled to say anything. The air felt charged and awkward, the kind of moment that would replay in my head for days.
She lurched out of my arms so fast she nearly collided with the kitchen counter, cheeks flushed and eyes darting anywhere but mine. We both cleared our throats at the same time—hers high and embarrassed, mine low and gruff—which only made things more ridiculous. The awkwardness hung between us, but a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at her lips, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly.
She shuffled toward the door, keys clutched in one hand like a shield. Her steps were hesitant, almost deliberately slow, the silence stretching out until it snapped.
Before she reached the handle, I tried to lighten the mood and said, “Don’t trip over all this awkward tension on the way out.”
She shot me a crooked grin, rolling her eyes. “Only if you promise not to schedule an emergency therapy appointment after I leave.” The tension cracked just enough for us both to let out nervous, awkward laughs, the sound lingering in the charged air as she finally turned the knob.
She paused at the door. Looked back at me. Then didn’t say anything at all.
And that was somehow worse than a goodbye.
The door clicked shut behind her, and I stood there in my stupid gray sweatpants and smeared glasses, holding the second half of a muffin I hadn’t asked for but now never wanted to throw away. The kitchen still smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and her shampoo—whatever she used that made her smell like lemon cookies, lavender, and defiance.
Ozzy padded into view, tail twitching, and gave me a look likeWell, that could’ve gone better.
“Shut up,” I muttered, crumbling part of the muffin into his bowl.
He sniffed it, unimpressed.
I leaned back against the counter and ran a hand down my face. My heart was doing something it hadn’t done since high school—slamming around in my chest like it had no respect for my boundaries. What the hell was happening to me?
I liked Paige. I even loved her. That wasn’t new. She was my best friend.
But whateverthatwas? Whatever it was that had just happened between us was new. And terrifying. And oddly kind of amazing.
She’d called me a hot librarian and a lumberjack.
I was going to be thinking about this all day.
It was just coffee. Just a muffin. Just our usual offbeat banter, but this time it had veered one millimeter too close to flirty and made both of us retreat like we’d stepped on an emotional landmine.
But she hadn’t exactly retreated, and neither had I. We’d stood there, biting into our muffins like we were afraid our feelings might escape if we didn’t keep our mouths full.
