“No.”
“You’re annoyed, aren’t you?”
I let my silence speak volumes.
Penn sighs. “It’s the sight of my chest hair, isn’t it? I know. I don’t have enough. Or do I have too much? I can’t tell.” I refuse to comment on his body hair, so he tries again: “Does it help that I’ve made us a shared calendar?”
A pause. “Yes.”
Reluctantly, I back my head out of the fridge and close it, slowly panning to Penn. He’s closer than I expect. Although I could touch him, I don’t. But I don’t step back, either.
“It’s not the chest hair,” I tell him. “It’s…”
My attention unwittingly falls to his lips before I rip my gaze away and groan. “Penn.”
“Yes, Wynne?”
I turn back. “You’ve messed with the vibe.”
“What vibe?”
“Penn, I’m going to kill you.”
He sucks air between his teeth. “That would not be good for business.”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I don’t have to play at being dumb.”
“Alright, that’s a solid and accurate self-own,” I admit. “But I’m serious. With you and me.” I gesture between us, my knucklesknocking against his broad chest. “You’re responsible for the vibe.”
His voice is a low rumble. “Meaning…”
I scoff, tired of Penn’s trailing half-sentences. “Meaning I’m not the one who played your arm like a sexy clarinet today, okay? So I’m not exactly sure how to proceed.”
He bites his bottom lip, barely containing his smile.
My cheeks are blazing. “Yes, I said ‘sexy clarinet,’ and I stand by it. That’s the best metaphor I can come up with on short notice.”
“Mm-hmm.” He nods, looking far too triumphant for my liking.
I grit my teeth, frustrated. Penn’s thrown me off today with his many surprises, and I know he’s thrilled to see me losing my cool.
“Well,” he says, eyeing me up and down. “You seem like you could use a break. So how about you head home, and I’ll help Theo. Later, we can address the vibes and…proceed?”
I need to fill Penn in on the electrician and the taste test, but if my impulse to deep-freeze my own skull is any indication, I’d better leave before I do something I can’t take back.
“Fine,” I say tightly. “See you at home, then.”
For a second, we just stand there, staring. Waiting for the other one to move. Then Penn’s gaze drops, and his hands move to my hips. I gasp as he shifts me sideways, his body warm and closer than it needs to be when he slides past me. Still gripping my waist, he tilts his mouth to my ear, his voice a rough scrape when he says, “See you at home.”
12
Okay, Peter Pan
It’s been yearssince I last took a bath, so I gravely misjudge the required amount of soap and end up chin-deep in bubbles that spill over the tub’s edge if I move so much as an inch.
Turns out, I’m terrible at relaxing. But I’m trying; I have to.
