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His eyes light up. “I’m listening.”
19
SEBASTIAN
Playlist: “Transatlantique,” Beirut
“This is…wild.” I take another bite of flourless chocolate cake and savor it, butter-rich and bittersweet, melting on my tongue. “It’s gluten-free. And it doesn’t taste like ass.”
Ziggy grins my way as she swallows her bite of (gluten-free) berry muffin. “Pretty darn good, right?”
I stare at her as she turns back to watching the sunset from my second-floor balcony, enjoying the dramatic irony of sitting here with her when just two weeks ago she was staring me down while I moped in my underwear. “Pretty darn good,” I agree.
“I’m glad you like it.” Ziggy takes another bite of her muffin, chewing thoughtfully. “Rooney, my sister-in-law—the one I texted earlier who sent the gluten-free kitchen essentials list—she’s the one who recommended this bakery. She said, eating this way is really manageable, so long as you make sure you’re stocked up on good substitutes, and that includes a good substitute bakery.”
“My belly thanks you, and soon my kitchen will, too.”
Ziggy smiles. “Online grocery shopping is a beautiful thing.”
“Usually I’d agree, but I wasn’t anticipating it being beautiful. I figured I’d be scouring every goddamn item for proof of being gluten-free. You, however, saved the day.”
I use my fork to cut into the cake, then stretch my hand toward her, a big chocolatey bite poised on the fork’s edge. “Want a taste?”
She smiles my way, eyes lighting up. “Thought you’d never ask.”
“Well, as our chocolate milkshake history dictates, it was offer you a bite or have the whole thing pilfered from me.”
She laughs as she leans in, clasping my hand to guide the fork into her mouth. A groan leaves her. “Wow, that’s good.”
I stare at her mouth as she shuts her eyes, savoring her bite.
God, I’m torturing myself watching her, but I can’t stop. Wanting her, denying myself her, it’s the kind of pain that consumes me like the hardest practice on the ice—muscles shaking, burning lungs, sweat pouring down me. It’s what Ziggy called it that first night at the diner. A good hurt.
“One more bite,” she mutters, guiding my hand with the fork, breaking off another piece of chocolate cake, then bringing it to her mouth. I sneak a swipe of my thumb across her hand, just to feel her skin, warm and soft.
“Why didn’t you get this, too?” I ask. “You like chocolate, obviously.”
She shrugs, sitting back as she sets her feet on my deck railing. “Chocolate’s too rich for me to want all of a chocolate something. I just like little tastes.”
“Not what your consumption of my chocolate milkshakes and breakfast smoothies indicate.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, I don’t drink that much of them.”
“Verily, Sigrid, you do.”
“Verily!” She laughs. “Now who’s talking like a nerd?”
I laugh, too. “Maybe I am a giant nerd, and you just didn’t know it. I’m a man of many mysteries.”
Ziggy glances my way, her expression changing to something soft, something curious. Something that makes me want to kiss her. Very badly. “I know you are.”
I stare at her, telling myself to do what I promised myself I would—stay strong, keep my hands to myself. I won’t let myself wrench her onto my lap and kiss her until her hair and the sky are the same breathtaking fiery color, until all I know is that flame-bright beauty wrapped around me, the sea breeze mingling with her sweet clean scent and the warm satin softness of her skin beneath my hands.
Steeling myself, I exhale slowly, steadily. But it’s hard to do that, let alone think straight, when Ziggy stares at me, too.
Slowly she leans in. I hold my breath, telling myself I won’t let her kiss me—if she’s going to kiss me. God, I want her to kiss me. God, I shouldn’t want her to kiss me—
She swipes her thumb across the corner of my mouth, then brings it to her own and sucks it clean. “See?” she whispers. “Just what I like. A little taste.”
