AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh.” My tongue darts out, licking it away. “Thank you. Aren’t you going to have a piece?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“No, please, have as much as you want. Want something to drink?”
“What’ve you got?”
“Water, sweet tea, and milk.”
“I’ll have a water.”
I take two waters from the refrigerator. When I nudge the door shut with my hip, I notice it doesn’t close as fluidly as my fridge at home. After I give Drake his bottle of water, I press my hand to the front of the fridge, give it a little push to make sure it’s sealed, and then run my fingers along the crack down the middle to make sure both doors are shut. At home, if one of the doors isn’t completely closed, they’ll be uneven when I run my hand down it.
“Is something wrong with your fridge?”
I spin around to find Drake watching me curiously. “Oh…” I shake my head. “No. I was just… The door sticks a little, and I was making sure it was shut.”
Because if it isn’t, then all of the food I just bought will spoil, and I’ll have to throw it out and make another trip to the grocery store, not to mention the money that would be wasted.
And just like that, the familiar uneasiness I’ve grown accustomed to sets in. It settles like a lead weight in my belly, begging me to keep checking the door until the restless feeling subsides.
Come on, Abby, don’t do this. Not today. Not in front of Drake.
I take a deep breath and press my hand to the door one last time.
This is the last time I’m going to check the door. It’s shut. The door is shut, and I’m being ridiculous.
“Want me to take a look at it? Maybe the hinges need to be loosened.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Drake shrugs, grabs a piece of pizza, and takes a bite. As my stomach settles and the weight slowly dissipates, I allow myself a second to give him a onceover. He wears a set of surgical scrubs that look identical to the ones he was in yesterday morning, only these are a little tighter around the chest, making me wonder if he works out. Who am I kidding? Drake is probably one of those guys who gets an hour of cardio in and a shower before I even consider rolling out of bed.
I raise my eyes to Drake’s when he moans, hoping I wasn’t staring too much.
“This is great,” he says, lifting his pizza. “I’ve never had St. Louis style before.”
“It’s the Provel cheese—makes all the difference. Did you come straight here from work?”
He nods, finishes off his square, and goes in for seconds.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
I can’t remember the last time a man did something this nice for me. The last memory that comes to mind was when my father made it to one of my dance recitals. Afterward he presented m
e with a bouquet of flowers before darting back to work. It was the only recital he made it to in the five years I danced, and to this day I’d be surprised if he remembered.
“Thank you.”
Drake’s hand stops halfway to his mouth. “You’re welcome.”
We eat the rest of the pizza in silence, enjoying our meal, and when I toss the empty box in the trashcan, Drake perks up.
“I have something for you,” he says, slipping out the front door.
A few seconds later, he returns with his hands behind his back.
