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I have to do it myself.
chapter fourteen
emily
When I hear Colton get back from his night out with August that Friday, I battle with myself for a long while before I slip downstairs in my pajamas and make a cup of tea.
Maybe it’s stupid of me.
Maybe it’s ridiculous in a million ways.
Maybe I’m making a fool out of myself.
But I love our conversations when it’s just the two of us, this wonderful, special connection we have. So I just can’t help it when I see a possible opportunity to have a night to myself with Colton.
I make my tea, hop up on the kitchen island again, and then I wait. Five minutes pass. Ten.
And then I hear that creak, the same one from last week, the sound of Colton coming down the stairs.
My pulse begins to race, and before I can even fully comprehend the fact he’s coming down here again, the light flicks on. This time, it’s just the light under the cabinets that casts a soft glow through the kitchen.
“I thought you might be down here,” Colton says, a small smile on his face. “Figured maybe you could use a drinking buddy.”
I laugh. “Well, I’m only drinking tea, but you’re welcome to go for something with a little more…bite to it.”
His lips tilt up and he crosses to the fridge, opening it to pull out a beer. “This is as much of a bite as I’m looking for,” he tells me. “The last time I had something more stiff, I smashed up a Porsche with a baseball bat.”
I gasp dramatically. “No. It was a Porsche?”
He nods, twists the top of his beer, and takes a sip. “Yeah. Wasn’t one of my finer moments.”
“Well, we can’t be perfect all the time.”
“No, we cannot.”
There’s a pause, and Colton leans his hip up against the island just a few feet away. My eyes scan over him almost without my permission, part of me wishing he’d not worn a shirt again, the other part of me thankful he did.
“So, how’s baseball?” I ask, raising my mug to my lips. “Been hitting home runs?”
Colton chuckles, and I hide my smile as my eyes track over the beautiful contours of his face.
“No homers, but I wasn’t ever a hitter. I was a catcher.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah. But I did slide into home and win the game for my team on Wednesday.”
I snort at the super relaxed way he says it. “Oh is that all?” Then I laugh, thinking back to the way his shirt was covered in red clay when he came home after the game. “No big deal. Just winning it with a sliding run.”
We laugh together.
And that’s when I notice something.
Colton’s eyes.
They drop to my mouth when I laugh, and just the knowledge of that has my neck growing hot.
I’m imagining that, right? I mean…that’s not really happening.
