He rolls his eyes at me while taking my hand. “You know, technically, we slept together last night, and I think we are past the hand shaking stage of our friendship.”
I shrug.
“Now,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee. “How the fuck do we defeat this bastard?”
Chapter 27
Myssa
It’s been a few weeks since our decision to just be friends. Things have been eerily quiet with Jasper. I’ve been focusing on self-control and not letting my emotions get the best of me. I think it’s helping because it’s become easier not to shift. It also helps that either Zayne or Knox are in the building at all times. Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m still on guard. Call it intuition, but I can feel something coming.
This past week, I’ve barely seen Zayne. Frequency has been becoming a big hit in Chicago, and they’ve already booked their first band to perform, although everyone here has apparently been told not to tell me who. I have tried to get it out of Vix, Knox and Zayne, but they’ve been tight-lipped. I couldn’t even bribe Eddie.
“You are Evil.” I pouted.
“That’s me,” Eddie said.
Knox had walked out of the door immediately, looking right at me.“Leave Eddie alone, woman, he’s not going to tell you.”
The alarm on my phone jolts me back to the present. I know the last week has been hard on Zayne. So, I decided to make dinner tonight for when he gets home.Home. That’s what it feels like to be here, but I have to remind myself again that this istemporary. I take a deep breath, trying to ease the knot in my stomach at the thought. I don’t even want to think about how hard it’s going to be to go back to my apartment once this is all over.
Stopping the alarm, I grab the oven mitts and pull the lasagna I’d made out of the oven. The aroma wafting through the loft makes my stomach growl.
This morning, as we waited for coffee to brew Zayne had seemed withdrawn.
“You, ok?” I asked, getting out two mugs from the cabinet.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Myssa, inspections are today.” The stress of it prominent on his face. “City inspections are brutal, so I’m just going over it all in my head and reassuring myself that all the boxes are checked.” He grabed his mug from the counter and mindlessly tapped on it, waiting for the coffee. I gently touch the back of his hand. The zap of electricity sent a current down my spine. I took my hand away quickly and motioned to pour the coffee in his cup for him. His throat bobbed as he held out his cup. I schooled my features and looked at him.
“You got this,” I said in confidence.
“I hope so,” he said with a small smile.
If this concert goes to plan, this could open the door for future gigs. The list of things to do to make that happen is endless. Permits, ticket sales, security, traffic, parking, and marketing, to name a few.
Today was a go or no-go for the show, and I’ve been waiting all day to hear from him. The wait has been agonizing. As if on cue, I hear front door unlocking.
“I don’t know what that is, but I want seconds already.” A disheveled but very happy Zayne walks into the kitchen.
He kisses me on the top of the head, giving me a half-hug. Not even realizing what I’m doing, I wrap my arm around his waist. Then it hits me, and I freeze for a second. The gesture isso innocent, yet so intimate at the same time. He, too, pauses for a moment, unsure how to move from where we’re at right now. I clear my throat, trying to break the awkward silence after his familiar embrace as I take a step towards the cupboard.
“I made lasagna. Figured maybe it would be nice, since you were stressing so much this morning. I’m sure the inspection was brutal. How did it go?” I say as I pull out some plates and silverware.
Zayne wipes his hand down his face. “You’re right, it was grueling—some minor tweaks will need to be taken care of, but we passed, so we’re good to go.”
“That’s awesome, Zayne.” I want to reach out to him, jump in his arms, and kiss him. And it’s taking everything in me not to. Instead, I keep myself busy by shredding some parmesan. “I know this has been a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah, it has, but worth it.” He walks over to the fridge, grabbing a beer for himself and water for me. The routine between us is now so fluid, like this is what it has been between us forever.
“Table or living room?” he chimes at me.
“Living room,” I say, and he nods, putting our drinks on the coffee table in the living room.
“Give me ten minutes. The garlic bread is almost done,” I say, checking my timer.
“Perfect. I’m gonna take a shower and get comfortable.”
I start to plate our food, just as I hear his bedroom door.
