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I feel bad that he bought the supplies but he wouldn’t take no for an answer and I’m finding that I can’t say no to this man. It feels dangerous but I won’t deny that I love being with him. He’s funny and kind and he has this constant smile on his face, and every time he raises his arms to grab something off a top shelf I get a flash of tanned skin across his stomach and a smatter of hairs disappearing into his waistband.

He pays for everything but I won’t let him get away with that, he will let me pay for the rest before he leaves. I mean that will be in a second, I’m done in here and he needs to go shopping. I just need to figure out the easiest way of carrying this all home with as few stops on the way as possible.

“Thank you Ste…” a raise of his brow stops me from saying his last name to completion. “Thank you Cole, it was a really nice thing for you to do but you are not paying for the rest. Please don’t argue with me on it either,” I’m toeing the ground and staring at his firm jaw as his smile falters for a moment before returning in full force.

“Okay Luna, I’ll let you pay me back if you let me drive you home. There is no way I am letting you carry all of this back to your house,” his tone holds no room for arguments and I don’t really want too. I will struggle to get it all home and at least he’ll let me keep some of my pride by paying him back.

It’s a win-win situation, right?

He leads me to his car and loads everything into the trunk, before placing his hand on the small of my back and leading me to the passenger side. His palm is warm even through the fabric and I can’t help the shy smile I give him as he opens the door and I slide in. He even closes it behind me, damn it. Can he get anymore perfect? Because this gentleman stuff is killing me.

We pull up outside my home and he wastes no time in grabbing my things and following me inside, I really am out of my comfort zone now.

“Shouldn’t you be buying food,” I mumble as I take one of the bags and carry it into the kitchen.

“I have plenty of time for that, do you want some help with the painting?”

This guy is confusing the hell out of me, in all honesty I think I want him to leave. But it would be rude to kick him out after everything he’s done and I don’t know how else to do it.

“Why?” He looks confused so I guess I better continue, is there a problem with just using that one word and hoping for the answer? “Why do you want to help? I’m just your patient’s sister. There’s no need for you to be this nice to me,” hooray, not a single stutter. Maybe I’m not completely useless at talking after all.

“This has nothing to do with that, don’t get me wrong. I like to consider myself a nice, helpful guy but I don’t do this for anyone. I like you Luna, you’re easy to talk to and you face the hard stuff even if it feels impossible,” he runs his hand along the back of his neck as he looks to the floor. Guess I’m not the only one feeling uncomfortable. “It’s nice to see you outside of the hospital and I guess, I considered ourselves on friendly terms. Everyone can use a friend, right?” His words are gutting me, but he’s right. A friend would be great even if it is with the only guy I have ever crushed this hard on.

“Let’s get painting then,” it’s weak and stupid but it’s making him smile, I guess I can count it as another win for today.

“I never realized how therapeutic painting could be, I always just saw it as another task to get done,” he rubs at his jaw and I can’t help but snigger at the line of paint he leaves in his wake.

“What’s so funny?” He narrows his eyes at me and even though I’m holding it back, I only want to laugh. It’s a pleasant feeling, one I hope I’ll get to experience more often once I’m older and wiser.

“Nothing just thinking about how terrible I am at anything that resembles art, I can’t even draw a stickman without it looking like he has a squiggle for a body.”

“That’s why you snickered while looking at me, nope doesn’t add up. Don’t hold back on me now Luna Carter,” he steps closer and his scent wafts over me, is there anything about this man that isn’t utterly perfection.

“You got a little bit of paint,” I raise my hand, suddenly courageous I guess as I run it over the paint and show him the blue that now covers my fingertips.

His hand comes up to take mine and my breath halts as he looks down on me, not hard considering my height but it’s the flare in his eyes that has me not even daring to move.

He smiles as he lifts his other hand and then runs his brush all the way down the center of my face, I’m shocked that he would do something so childish.

“Dr. Stevenson, you should know better,” I admonish as I pull away and place my hands on my hips.

“You make me sound old when you say my name like that, I prefer to hear Cole coming from your lips instead.”

I swallow hard, please tell me this isn’t imaginary. Because if he’s flirting with me, and I know it’s beyond inappropriate, but I wouldn’t care. Fuck Harkwright I’d start right here.

“You’re older than me,” I say on a whisper and he steps even closer until the toes of our shoes are pressed together.

“Ten years, doesn’t seem such a difference to me,” he looks at me, his smile replaced with a look so intense I can’t even name it.

My head is rising without permission. I want to know what it feels like to be kissed by him and I want to see if he’ll close the rest of the distance and… the front door is opening. He steps back and his huge smile falls back into place like nothing happened and I guess it didn’t, other than me making a fool of myself. I’m just glad my mom didn’t witness my shame.

The look of joy on her face when she sees what we’ve done makes my frustration and humiliation fall on the back burner and she seems genuinely happy to have Cole in our home. Surprised sure, but she has no problem with asking him to stay for dinner and for some reason… he accepts.

I will share my last dinner with my mom and a man - because I can’t call him a boy - who I can't stop looking at or fantasizing about. If I feel this stressed now, what the fuck is tomorrow going to do to me.

5

The Final Selection

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