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Jenny: Sorry, I’m supposed to be cool about this. Have fun. Don’t do anything you can’t tell me about later. Because you have to tell me everything later. Noah says he wants details too.
In their dreams. I decided not answering was the best answer and put my phone away, tiptoeing back down the hall and towards the kitchen. I’d missed having all this space, with the big bay windows and the round oak table that was extremely dated but the perfect size for a crowd.
Denver was staring into the fridge, and I came up behind him. “What are we looking for? Eggs?” There was a carton on the top shelf, and I reached around him and took it down. Empty. “Might want to throw this out.”
“Yeah.” He took the carton from me and tossed it behind us onto the counter. “Sorry, I have very hungry friends, and they were over last night eating everything.”
Was he blushing? Denver never blushed. Without meeting my gaze, he returned to perusing the fridge, as though if he stared long enough, the ingredients for omelets would appear.
“Hey,” I poked him in the side. “It’s okay. We can make something else.” I reached around him again and grabbed the grape jelly from the door of the fridge. “Bring the milk. Let’s do PB and J.”
Denver took out the milk and set it down next to me before heading to the pantry. He came back with the peanut butter and bread—all five pieces that were left. “Why is it, when it comes to you, I’ve got no game?”
“You don’t need any game because we’re only friends.”
I realized my mistake when he smiled. “Oh, so you admit we’re friends now?”
“Yeah, creepy. You wore me down. We’re friends.Justfriends.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
His English accent was terrible. I shook my head. “Grab me a butter knife. And it’s ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’ FromHamlet.”
“That’s it. The friendship is off.”
I shrugged. “Do I get a sandwich first?”
“Of course.” He took over making the sandwiches and cut them into triangle fourths, probably to make it look like there were more of them. We ate in comfortable silence and then I got up to rinse my plate.
Denver jumped up and met me at the sink. “I’ve got this. Go sit and relax. Find a show I’ll hate.”
“Oh, I…” My instinct was to shut him down. And he knew it. He waited for me to finish my sentence, knowing exactly what I was going to say. Which made me not want to say it. “I’d love to.”
Why did I say that?
I turned and fled into the TV room, grabbing up one of the couch cushions and hugging it to myself while I turned on the TV. Of course, the volume was way up, and I about had a heart attack trying to find the mute button. I’d bet he planned it that way.
Denver slid in next to me a few minutes later and put his arm around the back of the couch. Close, but not too close. Touching me, but not. The guy really did have game. He couldn’t help himself. Which was why I’d picked what I did. There was nothing less romantic than watching soapbox car races on YouTube. Denver was immediately hooked.
“What is this?”
“People in dumb costumes going down a track until their homemade car falls apart.”
We watched four old guys dressed up like chefs hit a speed bump and lose all four tires off their cheese wedge car.
“This is amazing.”
“I know, right?” My brother Dan loved this kind of stuff. He watched these races on TV with his kids on Saturday mornings, which was how I’d discovered them.
Denver nodded. “This would make a great group date.”
“Going and cheering maybe.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” I sank deeper into his couch. Like everything else in the house, it was a little on the older side, but comfortable. “So, no more roommates?” I asked.
“After Stinton leaves, it will just be me.”
