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Incredible.
Those lips. Her eyes. That brain…
I let myself into my room. If I wasn’t careful, I’d spend all night thinking about that one moment. Fun, but not productive. I checked my mail, and frowned at the message from my agent that simply saidyou need to see this.
I clicked the link, and waited impatiently for the page to load.
Former Child Star Donovan Breaking into Food?
The article was about Austin. Who was apparently thinking of opening a restaurant. Here. And the pictures they’d chosen were one current, and one of him and me, from the TV show. Standing next to each other. Grinning like idiots.
Because I had been an idiot back then.
Like that, my mood wilted. Why was he back in my life again? Everywhere. Suddenly?
7
kandace
It had been morethan a day, and I swore I still felt Eli’s lips on mine. Making out in the car—did adults really do that? Not that I had a clue, since I hadn’t even been the kid who did that.
Then again, when I thought about Joystick, I still felt some pretty intense tingles much lower on my body. But Joystick was months ago, and Eli was here. Now.
Which was why I was going through my closet, looking at and discarding everything I owned as looking too old. Too stuffy. Too professional. Why didn’t I own a single outfit that said casual, like I didn’t try too hard, but I know I still look incredible?
Because the entire contents of my wardrobe were on my bed now, it was time to do another pass.
My phone rang, and Lucas’s name and face popped on the screen. A distraction. Thank God. I put the phone on speaker and left it on my dresser. “Hey, hon. What’s up?”
“I. Am. Freaking out.” The panic in his voice was more along the lines of this-is-about-a-cute-boy panic, and not someone-just-stole-my-laptop panic.
I picked up a T-shirt with lacy shoulders and a flower print on the front that screamed old-lady-who-wishes-she-was-young. Which, I did if I was dating men more than 10 years my junior. I tossed it into a new pile. “What’s going on?”
“You know the guy I was telling you about?”
“Broad shoulders, square jaw, giant brain?”
Lucas sighed. “Yes. He’s coming over to study social sciences with me tonight, and I need to make snacks. They have to say this is incredible, I can’t get it anywhere else, without looking like I tried too hard.”
Yup, this was my kid. “Do you have time to shop? If not, what’s in the house?” Helping him to figure out what to make was far better than thinking about my wardrobe.
“I only have three hours. Maybe I can have something delivered if I need. I have the basics in the house.”
Which meant something different for him than for most college students. He was an internet-taught-chef, and his version of whipping something up tended to involve at least an hour of prep, and many raw ingredients.
“What about those tarts,” I asked. “Those are fast. Good.”
The way Lucas huffed, that was a big miss on my part. “Tarts, for a study not-date? Are you even trying?”
What was I thinking? I held up and discarded two more tops. “Do you have sausage in the house?”
“Not until he gets here.” Lucas snorted. “But seriously, no. I have prosciutto. Pepperoni.”
Prosciutto sounded a bit fancy for someone who didn’t want to serve tarts. “What about those mini calzones you made over Christmas break. Those were fast and incredible.”
Another huff. “That’s a brand-new recipe. I can’t serve that to a stranger.”
“You’ll never be happy with it, you know that.” Perfection. Another thing we had in common. “But unless he’s a food critic for Zagat’s—”
