Page 89 of On the Line

“What’s going on?” Ozzy says slowly.

I laugh. “So full of questions,” I say looking back at him while I switch my camera to selfie mode. “I want to take a picture of us.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but his expression quickly morphs into a cocky smile as he leans back into the couch, one arm over the back. Setting up the timer, I curl into his side, one arm around his waist while I tuck my legs under me, my head tilted toward him.

“So, what’s this all about? Is this going to be our soft launch to all of your friends or something?” Ozzy says jokingly after the photo is taken.

I laugh. “It’s not called a soft launch if your face is in it,” I reply, busy studying the picture we just took.We look so good together.“Besides, you only soft launch someone you’re actually dating.”

I can feel the air suddenly shift around us, and I know I’ve said something wrong before I even look up.

“Right,” Ozzy says with a dry laugh, scratching his head.

Shit.

“I just meant?—”

He gives me a reassuring smile and stands up. “It’s fine, Jimbo. I know what we are.” Holding out his hand for me to take, he asks, “You hungry? I know just the place.”

My anxiety spikes, my gaze lifting up to his while my phone is still clutched in my hand. I don’t know what to say, and by the look he’s giving me, I don’t think Ozzy wants me to add anything to the conversation.

Letting out the smallest of sighs, I take his proffered hand. “Food sounds great.”

“How didI not know about this place?” I ask in amazement while Ozzy holds the door open and waves me into Bella’s Café.

Walking in, I take in the decor, an awestruck smile on my face, the back wall filled with rows and rows of raw ceramics ready to be picked out and painted.

“Had a feeling you’d like it,” Ozzy says with a smirk.

“Like?” I say, “Ilove.”

He slides his hands into his back pockets, rocking on his heels, a pleased look painted over his features. My heart flutters with appreciation.

I don’t think I was aware someone could be so considerate.

So attentive.

After being shown to a table, we head over to pick out something to paint together.

“How did you find out about this café?” I ask while perusing the mugs and bowls.

“I’ve been here a few times with Soph,” he replies, picking up a mug and turning it around to better study it.

Now that I know who Sophia is, I don’t miss a beat. “Are you close with your sister?”

“Aside from Alec, she’s my best friend.”

I stop in my tracks and look at him, but he doesn’t notice my reaction, busy crouching down to look at the lower shelves. I force myself not to fawn over how adorable that statement was and press on.

“How old is she?”

“Fourteen—how ‘bout this one?” he says, standing back up, showing me a serving bowl with a wide lip.

I trail my finger over the bowl, my eyes meeting his. “Sure,” I say with a smile.

Back at our table, we both sit on the same side of thebooth. After ordering a plate of nachos to share, we gather our paints and supplies.

“So what are we painting?” I ask.

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