Page 16 of The Shadow

If it was possible for a human to melt, I’d be in a puddle on my kitchen floor right now. He has to know the effect he’s having on me. My poker face isn’t that great.

“I’m a good girl.” My attempt to sound agreeable somehow only sounds even flirtier, my breath airy and light. “I-I just mean, I tend to follow the rules.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that about you.” His eyes drift away from mine slowly as he takes a step back and gestures over his shoulder. “I’ll get going, let you have your night.”

“Hey.” I reach my hand out toward him but it’s nowhere near touching him. He stares at me and I realize I don’t have anything to actually say; I just don’t want him to leave yet. “Um, are you hungry?”

Chapter 8

Harvey

“Isaid I enjoy baking, not cooking. Two very different things.”

“What’s the difference?” My knife pauses slicing through an onion.

“Baking is chemistry—science—something I’m good at whereas cooking is skill and I don’t have that skill.” Aspen pushes the garlic around the pan as it sautés. I watch her assess what she’s doing, her frilly pink apron with ruffles and large plastic floral buttons bringing back the color to her face. She’s even loosened her braid, her hair now hanging in waves over one shoulder.

“A skill developed through practice,” I remind her.

“Yeah, but it’s rooted in creativity and that is not my strong suit.”

“I find it hard to believe you’re not good at everything.” She turns and looks at me as I tip the cutting board and slide the onions into the pan to join the garlic. “Two to three minutes on these, just till translucent.”

“School came naturally to me, especially anything to do with numbers or statistics or logic or patterns, but I’ve struggled in other areas.” She pauses briefly, lost in thought maybe, but then she perks back up. “I actually used Excel when I was a kid to categorize all of my stuffed animals so I could keep track of which ones I slept with on which nights. It gave me too much anxiety to think about some of them feeling left out.”

“Fuck, that’s cute.” I reach around her to grab the strip steak, my body lightly brushing against hers.

“My friends didn’t think so.” She giggles. “I told one of my friends actually, Brielle Wiederman. She called me a weirdo and didn’t want to come over anymore after that.” I place the steak into the pan and allow it to sear while she chops up a tomato she found in her refrigerator along with some cilantro and smash an avocado.

“Does your family live around here?” I notice the knife in her hand pause before slicing into the last bit of tomato.

“No. I was raised by a single mom and she passed away about seven years ago so it’s just me.”

“I guess we have that in common—no dad around.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, one that tells me she knows exactly the pain and emotion that comes with a situation like ours.

“And your mom?”

“Also passed.” I juice a lime and add some jalapeños and sea salt to the avocado. “We were close though—she sacrificed a lot to raise me alone.”

Neither of us ask any more questions and I can’t help but wonder if it’s for the same reason. A wound that’s still too fresh, peppered with guilt of all the things I could have done better… or maybe she doesn’t bear the burden of regret like I do.

“This looks… kind of pathetic. I should have offered to order in.” She flashes me an apologetic smile as we both look down at our dinner. It’s not much, just a few simple steak tacos based on the very minimal ingredients she had available.

“Nah, this looks perfect.” I reach over and pull out the barstool next to her.

“Oh, thank you,” she says unexpectedly.

“Not used to a man pulling the seat out for you?” She shakes her head no. “That’s disappointing. You deserve to be treated better.” She shrugs slightly, turning her attention back to her food. “Hey.” My hand is beneath her chin in an instant, pulling her gaze back to me. “I’m serious. You shouldn’t be with a man who won’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“I’m not sure I’ve met that guy.” She doesn’t say it to ask for pity; it’s barely loud enough for me to hear.

“You have now.” I don’t break eye contact with her. There’s a shift happening between us, like that charged feeling of static energy hanging in the air right before a tornado. “I know that we’re only pretending I’m your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I can’t show you how a man should treat you. Even as your friend.”

“Okay.” It’s that breathy, whispered answer again.

My stomach growls, reminding me of the dinner that’s getting cold in front of me, but all I can focus on is her. Her eyes pull me in, the depth of their color mesmerizing. I reach my thumb up and swipe it over her bottom lip just as her tongue darts out to wet it. It’s an accident, clearly by the way her eyes bulge when she makes contact with the tip of my thumb. The spark resonates through my finger, shooting up my arm and straight down to my cock.

“All I care about is keeping you safe.” The tension grows thicker and I know that I’m tiptoeing all over the line but I can’t seem to pull myself back from it.

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