I snort, despite myself. “That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
He hesitates, voice soft. “Can I come in?”
The air between us changes instantly, becoming heavy.
I step aside to let him in. While he disappears to the bathroom, I return to the couch, wrapping the blanket around me again.
A minute later, Holden plops down next to me and snatches the bag of Doritos from my lap.
“Wow,” I say flatly. “Home invasionandtheft.”
“You invited me in.”
“Mmm. No. You forced your way in under false pretenses.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“You literally announced you were here for the toilet.”
He holds a finger up. “Allegedly.”
I laugh under my breath. I can’t look at him too long without the discomfort from earlier creeping back in. Iwanthim here. I know I do. So why do I feel like a part of me… doesn’t? Is it only because Sophie and Miles might know? Or is it because we haven’t really said what we’re doing?
“What are we watching?” he asks, shoving a handful of Doritos into his mouth.
“People getting yelled at over cake.”
He arches a brow.
“Miles and I are binging the early seasons of Nailed It.”
“Perfect.”
My heart craves him, despite the noise in my head. Shifting in my seat, I lean toward Holden and prop my knees on his thigh. Holden smiles at me, clearly relieved.
He should call me out on my behavior. Demand we talk. He should saysomething.But he’s not. And somehow, that only makes it worse. How can he be so calm about this? Walk around like we didn’t just shift the entire foundation of our friendship last night?
Then again, Holden has always seemed better about this stuff. Keeping things casual.
The thought burns just as hot as all the other times it’s circled in my head today. I hate it, even if it’s true.
He shifts lower on the couch, sliding a hand under the blanket to rest on my bare knee. He brushes his thumb absently against my smooth skin. It sends tingles up my legs.
It’s all I can think about. Him. Us. Sitting together like this. We’ve always been touchy, but not like this.
I probably shouldn’t enjoy it as much as I do.
“You aren’t even watching,” he says after a while.
“Huh?”
He tilts his head at me suspiciously. “You usually complain about shows like this. You’re quiet.”
“I’m watching.”
“Mm-hmm. What are they making?”
“Some kind of…cake?”
