Page 46 of Close Knit

Cool. :)

A seriesoftap-tap-taps comes from my front door. I pause, not wanting Cameron to think I’ve been pacing by the door waiting for him like a lovelorn heroine in a cheesy rom-com.

Because I haven’t—at least, not for more than fifteen minutes.

The day whirled by as I penned a rough agenda for my knitting retreat, created a shiny new page on my website for sign-ups, and planned out my content for the month.

I know better than to believe the grumpy, brooding man haunting our apartment complex is gone for good, but everyone deserves a second chance. Being friends with someone I’ve seen naked…that’ll be a feat in itself. Sure, this might be one of those mistakes I told Juni I needed to make, but maybe that’s okay. I’ll learn, grow, and clean up any mess that comes my way.

Another knock comes.Be cool, Daphne. Be cool.

I open the door. Cameron occupies the entire frame. His black leather jacket conceals a dark sweater that matches the rest of his grim outfit. The small golden hoop dangles from his left ear. Despite his solemn appearance, he’s dreamy.

I swallow.Be fucking chill, girl.

“Oh, it’s you,” I say in a breathy voice, casually leaning against the door. My socks slide across the floor as my body slowly slithers toward the floor. I readjust.

“Like I promised.”

“Cool, I just finished shooting.”

He glances into my apartment, which is a carefully curated chaotic display of outfits tossed everywhere, surrounded by props and lightboxes. In the corner, my tripod stands ready, my phone still clinging to it, capturing the aftermath of the day.

“Good.”

“Are we making a stop at a funeral?” I tease. “Or is the all-black outfit for an emo concert you’re taking me to?”

“This ischarcoal.” He shoots me a playfully disappointed look.

“My sincerest apologies.”

“Did you make your outfit?” He gestures to my striped, cable-knit sweater woven in hues of pink, yellow, and orange yarn with a matching skirt.

“I did. It’s the second skirt I ever had fit me properly after blocking it.”

“Blocking?”

“It’s like giving your finished piece a spa day. You soak it until it’s sopping wet, or, you know, steam it. Then you use your hands to stretch it nice and taut, and then you let it dry!”

“That’s—uh,” he stutters, palming the back of his neck in that cute, boyish way. His pupils swallow the brown of his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps.Did I say something?“Guess you could say we both block balls.”

“Was that an actual joke?” I snort, playfully nudging his shoulder. “We must really be friends.”

“Well, give it a spin,” he says.

“A spin?”

“So I can see your skirt. I have a very sudden interest in knitting.”

“Oh!” I blush.

“Come on.” He tips his head at me. “The full three-sixty.”

I swallow and twirl. He makes a noncommittal sound. Has the hallway suddenly gotten warmer? I never feel particularly sexy, but as his gaze trails over my legs, the confidence he roused in me returns full force.

“Since you’re suddenly interested in knitting, I’ll have to give you a real lesson soon.” I smirk, and he nods. “So, can you tell me where we’re going? I hate surprises.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for someone who hates surprises.”

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