Her breath brushes against my lips.
And then?—
The door swings open.
“Oh, thank fuck, you guys are here!”
Tara jumps back like she's been electrocuted.
I close my eyes. Jesus Christ.
Ethan stands in the doorway, red-faced and out of breath, still in his gaming headset with his phone clutched in his hand. “Some twelve-year-old littlebitchfrom Redditis trying to hack my Xbox account! I'm in the middle of a tournament final—there's actual prize money and they've locked me out of everything and?—”
Tara, still wide-eyed, clears her throat. “Um. What?”
“I need someone with actual brain cells to help me get back online before this little demon ruins my life! Three years of gaming progress—my tournament rankings—my entire team is waiting and—” His voice rises with each word. “They're already posting about it on Reddit. I'm going to be a meme!”
Silence.
Tara lets out a strangled laugh. I press my fingers to my temple.
And just like that, the moment is gone.
“Shit,”Tara mutters, upending an empty paint can. “We’re completely out of paint. We need more pink if we’re making the whole thing pink.” So far, we’ve covered up the huge dick with white paint, and now we’re covering it all in a light pink. I haven’t showed Tara my design yet, I’m still working on it. But we concluded either way the background was going to be pink. Well, she concluded, I obliged.
We haven’t spoken about what happened in my bedroom last night, how close we got to kissing. Both of us have defaulted to pretending it never happened and everything is perfectly normal. Which suits me fucking great.
She looks up at me through her lashes. “Any chance you want to make a supply run?”
“I’ll go.” I’m already reaching for my keys, needing some space. Being around her is getting harder - literally. The way her shorts ride up when she stretches to paint is fucking criminal.
“I’m coming too.” She grabs her bag before I can protest, practically bouncing on her toes. That’s the thing about Tara - she attacks everything with this endless energy that both exhausts and intrigues me. “We need to practice anyway.”
“Practice what?”
Her grin is wicked. “Being a couple. What if we run into your family? We should be prepared.”
Fuck. The thought of pretending to touch her, to act like she’s mine...
“Fine.” I'm going to regret this. “I’ll drive.”
“Obviously. Like you'd let anyone else drive your precious baby.” She grins. “I've seen how you look at it. Should I be fake jealous?”
“That's ridiculous. It’s a vehicle.”
“Is it? You literally patted its hood yesterday after parking.Patted it, Alfie. That’s one step away from heavy petting.”
I actually laugh, which seems to happen a lot around her lately. It's becoming a problem.
The hardware store is mercifully empty when we arrive. Tara immediately commandeers a cart, looking at me expectantly as she positions herself on the back.
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” she whines, and Christ, the way she bites her lip should be illegal. “What kind of boyfriend wouldn’t push their girlfriend around on a cart?”
“A sane one.” But I’m already gripping the handle,because apparently, I’ve lost all self-respect where she’s concerned.
She’s wearing shorts that make it impossible not to notice her legs. My hands itch to touch her thighs where they grip the cart. I force my eyes away, jaw clenching.
