Page 49 of Sterling Fight

Throughout dinner, we eat as if the crackle between us isn’t like a third person seated at the kitchen island. Once we finish, we clean up in silence, washing dishes and putting away leftovers like an established couple.

The moment feels . . . nice.

Eventually, Judd asks, “Want to watch a movie?” Strangely, he sounds nervous.

“Sure. What do you typically watch?”

Judd shrugs, and I’m puzzled.

“Well, when you’ve gone to the movies, what did you pick?”

“I didn’t pick.” Judd quickly glances at me and away, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans while we stand in the great room.

“What do you mean you didn’t—” I stop myself, sensing Judd’s discomfort and the possibility that Judd didn’t ever get to decide on a movie. When he had dates. Or when he was with a certain someone.

“Okay. Let’s see.” I hold out his remote, nodding toward the television for him to find the streaming service, and then we scroll through some options.

“I love this one,” I pause on The Adjustment Bureau. A little intrigue. A little romance. A little fantasy. Basically, a movie about free will and fate and the choice to love whomever you wish. “Want to watch it?”

I want Judd to feel he has a choice as he focuses on the preview. “Sure.”

We settle in on the couch that faces the fireplace and television head on, sitting not exactly next to one another, but not necessarily tucked into opposite corners. It’s a relief that I’ve seen this movie before because this anxious electricity is circling around me again due to the closeness of Judd’s body.

To break the tension, I slump to the side and rest my head on a throw pillow, tucking my knees to my chest and my feet in the space between Judd and me.

Judd picks up my ankles and moves my feet to his lap, rubbing his thumb deeply into the bottom of my bare foot. The strength of his thumb. The pressure in the arch of my foot. I flinch.

“Ticklish?” Judd teases.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” There are places I am ticklish. Areas that are sensitive. But I can’t share that with Judd, and I don’t know why I said what I said. My zero filter is zero-filtering.

Still, the snap-crackle-pop exists.

Judd hums in response and I close my eyes a second as the purr in his throat shoots straight to a part of me that wants to feel the vibration of his mouth.

And suddenly, I think I’ve made a grave mistake.

I should be kissing my fake fiancé.

The next morning, I enter the great room and see Judd dressed and moving about his kitchen like he has plans for the day. A bag rests on the floor near the large island. Two travel coffee mugs sit on the surface. Two water bottles rest beside it.

“Are you going out?” Judd hasn’t left my side other than Saturday night for his fight.

He pauses after filling the first mug with coffee. “I was hoping I could take you somewhere today.”

“Really?” I’m surprised and thrilled that he’d like to take me out.

Judd looks up at the crack in my voice. His eyes assess me. Like he can see inside me and wants to. I’d love a better understanding of myself as well.

“How do you take your coffee?” He watches me. “I feel like, as we’re dating, I should know.”

“Oh, black is fine.”

Judd tilts his head. “But is that how you really take it?”

My cheeks heat. “Actually, I love a splash of almond milk and honey but that’s complicated and⁠—”

Judd turns away from me, miraculously producing both products. “Do it for me once. I want to learn.”