Page 43 of I Just Want to be Yours

“Braden?” The shock of seeing him works some type of magic, and I feel less like a zombie.

He holds up a container in one hand, and a six-pack in the other. “You looked a little down this morning, so I made you pesto pasta.” He glances at the bottles in his other hand. “I didn’t make the beer, but you looked like you could use that, too.”

I freeze at the top of the stairs. “You made it for me?” Blinking, I add, “The pasta, I mean.”

He grins. “Yes. That part I made.”

My stomach rumbles. Now that I think about it, I didn’t eat lunch. My eyes jump to the container again. “That was really thoughtful. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Are you kidding? I could make this stuff in my sleep at this point.”

Walking toward him, I laugh. It’s the first time I’ve laughed today, and it feels like something inside me cracks open at the force of it. “You do make it a lot.” Pulling out my key, I unlock the door.

“Well, you seem to like it a lot.”

My eyes flick up to meet his, and the way he’s looking at me is enough for me to look away. I open the door and step inside, determined to lighten whatever made that look so heavy. “Didn’t want to use the spare key?” I ask as I set my bag on the kitchen counter.

Braden stretches the back of his neck, and I can’t help noticing the way his striking blue eyes are accentuated even more by the color of his cobalt shirt. “You looked a little surprised to see me this morning. I didn’t want to scare you.”

I let my hair down, loosening the strands as I massage my scalp. “Yeah, sorry. I was a little off my game.”

“And now?”

My movements stop as I consider him. He’s putting too much weight into his stare again, and my pulse quickens. “Stilla little off.” I look around the apartment to shake off some of what I’m feeling. “No Rae and Matt?”

Braden gets two bowls out of the cabinet overhead, and just the fact that he’s moving helps to make things feel less . . . serious? “They’ll be here soon, but they said we can go ahead and get started.”

Relief floods through me. Rae and Matt will make this less . . . whatever it is. I don’t know why being alone with Braden leaves me restless. He’s never been anything but nice. He’s always been respectful, too. Something about him leaves me guessing, though. It’s like he never says what he’s really thinking, and I’m too afraid to know what thoughts lie beneath those blue eyes. “Sounds good to me,” I say with my best smile. “I’m starving.”

He flashes me a smile before turning back to our bowls and spooning pasta into each of them. The silence that falls between us makes my entire body constrict, so as soon as he walks toward me with a bowl in hand, I ask, “How was your day?”

He raises a beer before answering, and I nod. As he opens the bottle for me, he says, “My day was good. Classes were fine, and I have a little time before I have to head to work.”

He sets down the beer in front of me, and I thank him. “You work nights? Why did I not know that?”

Braden shrugs as he sits on the barstool. He clinks his beer with mine and we take a sip. “I think there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

He’s right, of course. I haven’t spent a lot of timetryingto get to know Braden. Anything I do know about him are little crumbs I’ve picked up through Rae and Matt. “You’re probably right,” I say with a light laugh. “Where do you work?”

“I’m a barback at Fields.”

I blink. I’ve heard the name, but I’ve never been. I don’t know why I find him working in a bar setting so surprising. Hecertainly fits the mold of being the hot guy behind the bar. Even if he isn’t the one serving the drinks, I’m sure the girls at Fields notice him. I tilt my head a little. “You must meet a lot of people there.” Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen Braden bring home anyone. I’ve never seen him date. He’s never invited anyone to hang out with us. All I’ve ever seen Braden do is provide alcohol, cook pesto pasta, and occasionally get stoned.

He shrugs. “A few.”

My eyes narrow. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

He gives me a sideways glance.

“Or boyfriend?”

With a breath of laughter, he shakes his head. “Girlfriend, Margot.”

Something tingles in the back of my mind at the sound of him saying my name, but I brush it off and jump to my next question. “You go out. You even work at a bar. I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would want to date you.”

He gives me an unconcerned nod and goes back to eating. “And there are a lot of guys who would want to date you.”

“But I’m with Jackson,” I blurt, my spine going rigid.

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