Page 75 of Late Nights

24

Demi

It was Tuesday, which meant I didn’t work at The Bridger tonight. I should have probably started packing, but after school today I’d come home and ended up lying on my bed watching TV. I hadn’t mentioned anything to Cannon about moving back in with my parents. I’d been waiting for the right time, not waiting and hoping by some miracle that things could go back to normal.

I wasn’t waiting for Cannon to come home tonight, hoping that we’d hang out. Nope. I was just relaxing and enjoying some alone time.

Oh, who was I kidding? I was totally waiting for Cannon. And I was totally hoping he would ask me if I wanted to eat dinner with him so we could talk about our days and then stay up late playing video games.

Normally that was our go-to, but last night it hadn’t happened. I’d gotten home from The Bridger, and he had been in his room instead of waiting on the couch for me to get home. I’d almost knocked on his door to make sure he was okay but then got ready for bed and went to sleep instead. And yesterday morning and this morning, he’d said he had to be at work early and skipped out on breakfast.

He’d been different since he’d talked with his grandfather on Sunday night. There had to have been more to their conversation than just his grandfather telling him he was proud of him. Right?

After that dinner, I’d had a sliver of hope that maybe Cannon was coming around to the idea of being in a relationship with me, but now that he seemed to be avoiding me, I wasn’t sure. I’d thought that hearing the wonderful things my dad said to him would help ease some of his fears, but I guessed I was wrong.

His avoidance had me wondering if he was either sick of spending so much time together or he was really trying to push the friends thing even harder than before. Both those reasons had me holed up in my room, wanting to give him the space he needed either way.

Eventually I heard the front door open and close. Soon I heard him moving around in the kitchen, the clinking and clanking of pans and plates a sure giveaway he was cooking dinner. Without me.

Not that we always cooked dinner together since we weren’t always home in the evenings, but when we were, we usually made something to share. My heart dropped as I continued to hear him making dinner, ignoring whatever was on the TV screen.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on my bedroom door.

“Come in,” I called out, not moving from my spot on my bed, keeping my eyes on the TV screen on the wall.

In my peripheral vision, the door opened slowly, Cannon’s head poking in as I finally turned to look at him.

“Hey,” he said tentatively. “I made you some dinner.”

My gaze swung to where he opened the door wider, and there he stood holding a plate filled with a grilled cheese sandwich and a side of fruit.

He made me dinner?

I didn’t know if I’d seen anything sexier. This gorgeous man stood in my doorway holding a plate of yummy food he’d made for me.

He must have taken my silence for not wanting the food because he said, “Unless you already ate.” He looked down at the plate. “Which you probably already did.” He started to back out of the doorway. “I’m just going to go.”

“No,” I exclaimed. My cheeks heated from how desperate I sounded. I took a breath, trying to calm myself. “Don’t go. I haven’t eaten, and that looks delicious.”

I sat up as he walked farther into the room, the normal-sized plate looking small in his large hands. And this man thought he didn’t know how to be in a relationship? He was totally boyfriend material.

He set the plate of food down on the nightstand. “I, uh…I hope you like it.” He held his hands, fidgeting with them like he was nervous, and it was possibly the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

“Thank you. That was very thoughtful,” I said, giving him a smile. “You should join me, and we can watch a show together.” I hadn’t planned on saying that, but the desire to be with him overrode any rational thoughts. And friends ate dinner and watched shows together. It didn’t need to mean anything more than that. And whether anything ever happened between us, I didn’t want to lose him as a friend.

He stilled. “In here?” he asked, like he was struggling to process what I had said. “Like, on your bed?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” I kept my expression as innocent as I could. Maybe he needed proof I was on board with the whole friends thing. What better way to show him than hanging out in my room together, eating and watching a show? He didn’t need to know about the times I’d imagined him lying next to me on this bed in a totally different kind of situation.

He put his hands on his hips like he was reprimanding a toddler. “You know exactly what is wrong with that.”

My mind immediately jumped on his reaction to being alone with me on a bed. I internally sighed at how he had said in so many words that he was still trying to control himself around me. Cue the internal happy dance.

“I can control myself,” I insisted, keeping a straight face. “Can you?”

He shook his head adamantly. “Nope. Not even remotely.”

I laughed, loving that he was being so honest and finally showing some emotion with me. “Oh, c’mon. Go grab your dinner, and we’ll eat while we watch a show. Perfectly innocent and friendship-like.”

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