“That’s probably true, but don’t tell them I agreed.”
“I won’t.” I mime zipping my lips. “So with the dispensary booming during the holiday season, will you need to hire more employees?”
“Yeah, I will. I love the extra business, but it’s so fucking chaotic.”
“Hey, chaos keeps you busy and distracted.” I break off another small piece of muffin and pop it into my mouth.
“Yeah.” His eyes lift to mine. “Sometimes,” he says, his voice dropping lower.
My pulse ticks up as a charged silence stretches between us. He shifts his weight, leaning forward to brush his thumb against the corner of my mouth lightly. My breath catches.
His hand falls away, and his lips curve. “You had a crumb.”
“Oh… thanks.”
His eyes stay on mine, like he’s daring me to say more, but I don’t.
“Anyway,” I say, fidgeting with the edge of the napkin. “It’s nice you stopped by.”
One side of his lips twitches, hinting at a smile. “I like seeing you.” It takes a moment for his words to register, and when they do, my heart skips a beat. Before I can reply, he stands, reaching for the box of muffins and his cup of coffee. “I should get going.”
“Right,” I say, rising from my seat. “Thanks for coming by.”
He turns toward the door, then pauses, looking back at me. “Hey, G?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep some cranberry muffins hidden in the back for me, just in case I get the urge to stop by.”
“You’re planning to?”
He grins. “Let’s say I have a feeling I might be craving more than just muffins.” He winks and exits, pulling the door shut behind him.
I’m left standing here, wondering if I imagined half of our interaction. There was knee nudging and foot touching. He brushed a crumb from beside my mouth with his thumb and, in the next beat, told me he likes seeing me. I don’t believe I’m inflating these things in my mind. The dynamic between us has changed, and God help me, I want to see what comes next.
I stare into the firepit, watching the flames flicker and twist, trying not to notice how closely Jordan is sitting beside me on the bench. His knee keeps brushing mine—just barely, but every time it happens, my pulse stutters.
On my other side, Willow nudges my arm. “I’m glad you got caught up on your laundry so you could be here,” she says with a smirk.
I slowly blink at her. “I was happy to come.”
She laughs and bumps my shoulder. “Sure you were.”
Honestly, Iamglad I came. Skipping last Saturday night’s firepit hangout felt like the right decision at the time. Avoiding eye contact, casual touches, and a certain someone’s devastatingsmile seemed to be the pertinent thing to do. But now, with the fire crackling and laughter swirling around us, I regret it.
“Who wants a s’more?” Nina asks, waving a bag of marshmallows over her head.
“I do!” Willow answers, reaching out, but Reed snatches the bag first with a smug chuckle. “Hey!” she protests.
“Sucks to be so slow,” he taunts, winking as he hands the bag off. She snags one, then passes it to me.
I take a marshmallow, but without thinking, I hand it to Jordan.
“Thanks, G,” he says, sliding it onto the end of a stick. The bag moves around the circle. “You’re not having one?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
He squints at me. “Are you feeling okay?”
