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Jesse leaned across the bed and caught my wrist in a light grip. "That's fair. You need time. I get that. But I'd like to revisit this conversation, at some point."
"When the semester ends, you can bring it back up. There's a decent chance I'll shoot it down again, but you can try. Until then, please just leave it alone." I headed to the doorway without his confirmation, waiting for him to get ready to go downstairs.
He stepped into the bathroom, remaining where I could see bits of him as he moved, and came back out a few minutes later wearing a t-shirt along with his shorts.
We walked down the stairs together, everything made a bit less comfortable by the conversation we'd just had.
"You want coffee?" Jesse asked, as I sat down at the kitchen table.
"Sure." I opened my laptop, massaging my temples as the screen lit up.
Damn, I wished I had a Red Bull to drink.
Jesse turned on music while he started the coffee, then grabbed two dozen eggs and set them on the counter. The eggs were followed by a pack of bacon and some bread—for toast, I assumed.
"I don't usually eat breakfast," I reminded Jesse.
My stomach growled as he shot me a warning look.
"Fine," I muttered, looking back at my computer screen and pulling up the list of shit I still needed to do.
"Consider me your werewolf dietician and personal chef," Jesse said, turning back to the stove. "Most girls could only dream of having their own were-chef, but you're lucky enough to have me."
I snorted. "Most girls would run screaming from a were-chef."
"Haven't you heard of paranormal romance books? If girls like sparkly vampires, you'd better believe they like muscular werewolves cooking them eggs."
He didn't turn around to see the grin tugging my lips upward.
"Who said you were muscular?" I countered.
"I do own a mirror, Teapot. Doesn't take much more than a mirror and a pair of eyes to deduce that when you've got this to work with." He gestured to his body from the side.
"I don't know why men think it's attractive to talk about their muscles. Obviously, they're there." I gestured to his body, like he had. "You know it, I know it."
"You asked."
"I was teasing you, Kettle." I rolled my eyes, opening the document I had set up for a particular assignment on my computer. Two could play the nickname game. If he wanted to call me Teapot, you'd better believe I'd be calling him Kettle.
"It seems like every time I ask an attractive guy what he likes to do, do you know what he says?" I asked, mostly ranting to myself at that point. "Go to the gym. They think that's an interesting hobby, but what girl wants to date someone whose idea of a good time is working out?"
"A girl whose idea of a good time is working out?" Jesse suggested.
It took a minute to realize he was answering my rhetorical question...
And in an interesting way.
"No one's idea of a good time is working out."
"Sure it is. There are plenty of people who enjoy the way they feel when they get their heartrate up." He continued cooking eggs, arguing with me casually, in a way that I hated to admit I loved.
"If this is where you tell me your favorite thing to do is work out, I'm moving."
He shot me a grin over his shoulder. "I don't personally work out. I'd rather read a book."
"Ditto." I tried to focus on my assignment, but now that Jesse had gotten me ranting, I had a million things to say. "Why do guys think it's sexy to say they love working out, though? Is it supposed to make us think of sex or something? Because when a guy tells me his favorite hobby is the gym, I immediately think he's a few brain cells short of intelligent."
Jesse laughed. The sound was enough to nearly make me smile.
