Page 8 of Everything I Crave

I reach out to catch her as she kilters off balance. “Careful, darling.”

“I - uh-” she stammers, staring at me.

“Told you I was the better looking one.” I wink at her before setting her right and walking back to serve the slices of pizza to us both. Friday nights don’t leave me much time to eat so the sandwich I inhaled at four this afternoon isn’t doing much for me now.

Willow takes a spot at the island, gingerly taking a plate of pizza. “So, where do the other five siblings live? Are you close?” She takes a bite, and moans. Fuck this was such a bad idea. Not only is she my friends’ sister, she’s theirbabysister, as in about six years younger than me. And clearly struggling with something.

“They all live in my hometown, Balsam Cliffs, Maine, where my family owns an inn. Except Cooper. He’s a photographer and writer for a travel magazine. I never know where he is. He might check in every couple of months. Last I knew he was in the Highlands in Scotland.”

She seems happy with this information and we eat pizza in silence. A welcome silence after open mic night at the bar on a Friday. Open mic night always pushes my patience, but even drunk, Willow’s voice was a welcome addition. She seems just as happy as I am to sit here, eating andnot talking though.

She clears her plate and loads it into the dishwasher like she belongs in my space, and the thought of her belonging here is making it hard for me to shut her out of my mind. Something I haven’t been able to do since the morning she left me in my kitchen a year ago. Her fiery attitude that morning shows me she’s fearless, despite whatever circumstances she’s in now.

“I’ll sleep on the couch this time,” she offers. “Do you have some pillows and blankets somewhere?”

“No need. My mom and sister came to visit over the winter and forced me to buy beds for my spare rooms.”

She follows me down the hall. I stop at my door and point across the hall to the first spare bedroom.

“You can sleep in here. I think my sister even left some pajamas or something.” I dig through the drawers until I find the leggings I was looking for. I hand them to her, and our fingers brush.

I clear my throat, “I’ll go grab a tee for you.”

I walk past her into my room, pulling an old work shirt from my closet. “Here you go.” I turn to find Willow right behind me.

We’re maybe an inch apart, and she is staring up at me, chewing on that plump bottom lip. The smell of cherries taunting me to take her lips with mine. She starts to take a step forward but rocks back on her feet. She is clearly waiting for me to make a move first.

But I can’t.

She reaches up to place her hand on my cheek.

“Willow -”

“Kiss me, Gunnar. I know you’re attracted to me.”

“That’s not- you’re-Fuck. I can’t, Willow.” Regret ricochets throughout my entire body. I want nothing more than to lean down and take her lips, to ease the pain in her eyes.

Anger and hurt flash across her face. She rips the tee from my hands and stomps the few steps across the hall, slamming the bedroom door shut.

I’m left standing in my empty bedroom, a hard-on pressing into the zipper of my jeans, one that she clearly didn’t miss being so close to me.

Fuck.

Chapter Five

Willow

I roll over, checking my phone. It’s ten in the morning and Mom hasn’t come to wake me up. I roll onto my back and notice the industrial ceiling and walls with exposed brick. I shoot up in the bed and look around, suddenly remembering that I’m not home, I’m at Gunnar’s. And I tried to kiss him last night.Shit.

And he rejected me.Double shit.

Peeling the covers back, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet barely reaching the wide wood plank flooring. I pad quietly into the kitchen, my stomach rumbling. I open Gunnar’s fridge expecting to find some beer and ketchup, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find a well stocked, and healthy fridge full of options.

Pulling out eggs and veggies, I start chopping them up to make omelets. Making him breakfast is the least I can do since he let me stay, again. Even after he made it clear I wasn’t staying earlier in the night.

“Good morning.”

I turn to say good morning back when my breath is stolen from me. Gunnar stands bare chested again, wearing nothing but those damn sweatpants, holding onto the exposed beam above him to stretch his gloriously muscled body.

---