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For some reason, I wanted to take care of him. “I guess I owe you some bread. Want some toast?”
Surprise crossed his features, but then he nodded, biting his lip. I headed over to my cupboard and pulled out what remained of my loaf of bread. As I popped two slices in the toaster, I felt his gaze on me. At this point, though, I knew better than to catch his eye. I’d only be rewarded with a cutting look or comment. So instead, I busied myself with grabbing a plate and butter.
His gaze still burned into me, hot and heavy.
“Just butter? Marmite? Nutella?” I chanced a look at him once I’d examined the contents of his cupboard. He was quiet for a change, still watching me but rubbing his temples, his forehead creased.
“I can do it.” His frown deepened. “I’m hungover, not sick.”
“It’s okay. I owe you.”
“That’s true,” he muttered. “Marmite, then.” Pushing away from the counter, he took a seat at the kitchen table, burying his head in his arms on the table with a groan.
“Bit hungover, mate?” Travis smirked, receiving an elbow in the ribs from a laughing Kira. “Regrettingla fée verte?” Liam didn’t bother lifting his head, but he moved his hand so he could give Travis the middle finger.
Shaking my head, I turned away from them, flicking the switch on the kettle. Once the toast was done and I’d made coffees for everyone, I handed mugs to Travis and Kira, then carried Liam’s coffee and toast over to the table.
“Toast’s ready.” When Liam didn’t respond, I sighed. I prodded him on the shoulder…or I meant to, but it somehow turned into more of a caress, my finger trailing across the top of his arm. I heard him breathe in sharply, his body stiffening in surprise, and I quickly yanked my hand away. What the fuck was I doing?
Luckily Travis and Kira hadn’t noticed anything, too busy getting ready to film the rest of the segment. I took my position behind the camera again, glad that I had it to hide behind. I didn’t dare to look over at Liam.
I managed to successfully ignore him as I zoomed in on what was supposed to be cakes, if you could call the flat, collapsed discs of sponge “cakes.” By the time Travis and Kira were flinging icing at each other instead of decorating the cakes, Liam was finished with his toast and heading in the direction of the door.
Halfway across the kitchen, he paused, then took a detour.
“Thanks for the toast,” he murmured as he brushed past me. His cheeks were a little flushed, and he wouldn’t look at me, but just that tiny bit of contact set off a chain reaction of goosebumps across my body.
Then he was gone, and I was helpless to stop the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of my lips.
