“Fucking assholes, both of them,” I mutter under my breath, quickly taking a piss and brushing my teeth while collecting myself. I need to take my meds. Get dressed. Work on the internship application my student advisor emailed. There’s something else but I can’t remember.
Throwing on a tee, I pad into the kitchen—
The smell hits me first. Bacon. My mouth waters.
Not only for the bacon.
Standing at the stove in the sweats I gave him is Win with a dish rag tossed casually over his bare tattooed shoulder. I’m transfixed by the shift of muscles in his arm as he removes a skillet from the burner and scoops scrambled eggs onto a plate.
Mitz meows upon seeing me.
His spatula clatters to the floor. “Shit, baby, you scared me. I thought you were still dead to the world,” he laughs. Grey eyes squint as he sets the pan down and approaches cautiously. “You ok?”
I force a swallow around the jagged boulder lodged in my throat. “Yeah, you, uh,” I stammer, “You remembered.”
It’s agonizing to watch the memories descend on him, his expression flitting between painful and wistful. His glossy eyes round.
“‘One Day’ came.”
Don’t you dare cry, Remy. You’re not bawling your eyes out because he reminds you of the innocent boy you fell so madly in love with.
Except he is. I see him: my Win, my Starlight, my best friend. He’s there, peeking out of every quivering smile and sassy remark. But he’s more. He’s vulnerable, raw, flirty, bold, open and comfortable.
He’s too good to be true.
And it scares the shit out of me.
“I hope you’re hungry because I panicked and made enough to feed a small army,” he rambles, a blush rising in his cheeks as he rubs the back of his head.
Why. Is. He. So. Fucking. Adorable?
“It smells good,” I murmur, flashing him a small smile.
Stars sparkle in his eyes. Fidgeting, he hurries back to the stove to shut it off. The fog of sleep fades and I notice the soft music playing from his phone on the counter. It's one of my favorites.
I want to hate him— I really do— but he’s making it impossible.
I clear my throat. “Your mom called last night.”
He scrapes fried cheese and egg off the end of the spatula with his teeth. “Yeah, I texted her this morning. Thanks for answering. She would've lost her shit otherwise.”
I’m distracted by the dart of his tongue across his greasy bottom lip. He gives me one insane blow job and I’ve lost all sense of reason.
I’m a fool.
“No problem,” I mumble, digging my knuckle into my eye and plopping on a stool at the counter. He slides me a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, hashbrowns and mini pancakes covered in little chocolate chips. A bottle of syrup lands beside a giant latte.
I can’t catch a break.
He stands across the kitchen island, adding a splash of hazelnut creamer to his coffee.
My nose wrinkles. “Did you really have to bring that blasphemous liquid here?”
He smirks. “Yeah, along with that fancy mocha stuff you like.”
Pointing my pancake-loaded fork at his annoyingly pretty face, I snap, “Chocolate is superior to nuts.”
His brow arches. “Baby, we’ll forever disagree. I’ll always choose your nuts over chocolate.”
