Page 35 of Solitude

Cole huffs, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. “I’m getting out of here.”

Calvin clapsmy shoulder and gestures at Cole. “Go on out with him. Matt could use the help if he wants to be done by the time Blake gets back.”

“Sure.” The answer comes out of my mouth before I can consider saying anything else.

What would I say anyway?Sorry, sir, I’d really like to stay in this kitchen and watch Winnie get all cute and flustered by my presence.

Don’t think that would fly.

“Don’t get all filthy,” Beth orders and points a finger at us. “I don’t want the stink of cow shit to overpower my meatloaf and potatoes at the table. Do you hear me?”

All three of us share a look before simultaneously reply, “Yes, ma’am.”

My eyes find Winnie again before I clear the doorway. She’s still leaning over the tray of cupcakes, her hands frozen over the fully frosted cakes. When her eyes flick upward and meet mine one last time, I give her a small, secret grin and push through the swinging door.

I’m washing my hands in the main hallway bathroom with Beth’s special sugar cookie scented hand soap when the door opens and shuts faster behind me than I can blink. Turning around, my eyes widen at the sight of a blonde-haired crazy person crowding me back against the sink, and I raise my dripping wet hands in surrender.

“What are you doing?”

Winnie narrows her eyes, hands on her hips as she leans farther into my space. “Are you stalking me?”

My laugh sounds strangled. “What? What if I’d been in here peeing?”

“I was listening to make sure,” she confesses with little thought, and she has the decency to look embarrassed. “Just running water. You wash your hands for an abnormally long time.”

I show her the front and back of my squeaky clean hands with a cheeky grin on my face. “Gotta get all the shit and mud off, sweetheart.”

She scrunches up her nose and takes a step back.

Winnie has lost her dirty apron and changed out of her ratty t-shirt and shorts. She’s wearing a dress now, short and flowy, and she looks just as uncomfortable as I’m betting she feels in the breezy material. She doesn’t strike me as a dress-up kind of girl. If I had to guess, I would say her closet and dresser are full of leggings and sweatshirts. Probably overflowing with too many t-shirts and lounge pants.

“Is that all?” I smirk, grabbing the hand towel off the hook. “Or would you like to know more about my hygiene habits?”

She looks absolutely disgusted with me, and her lack of ability to mask how she feels in this moment is so adorable it makes me chuckle.

Her long hair is down now, freed from the haphazard ponytail she’d carelessly had it in, and it falls around herface delicately. It’s not straight or curly. Some strands twist while others hang limply, like all she did was brush it and call it a day.

I don’t really think as I reach out and pick up a piece of hair between my fingers.

“Itisas soft as it looks,” I whisper.

Her eyes are wide as she stares at me like she’s surprised. Like, not only is it the first time she’s been alone with a boy, but it’s me. Like she didn’t fully realize how tight of a fit it is for both of us to be standing in this bathroom together when she barged in.

She swallows and steps out of my reach. I mourn the loss ofheras her hair slips from my fingers.

“Do friends touch each other’s hair?”

“Definitely. Have you met Gus?”

Winnie scrunches her nose, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I don’t know if we should use Gus as a reference for how friends should act towards one another.”

“Why’s that?” I ask softly even though I wholeheartedly agree with her.

“I’ve seen the way he acts with you and Ben…” She chews her lip. “He’s so touchy.”

“I think his love language is physical touch.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear, her lips twisting as she ducks her head slightly. “What’s your love language?”

---