Page 25 of Exes and O's

“Oh yeah? Like group meals?”

“Yup. We make most meals together every day. One of the guys on my shift used to be a chef in the military, so he takes food pretty seriously. The other day he made homemade ricotta gnocchi with pancetta, and crème brûlée for dessert.”

“Damn. That’s fine dining. Are you guys hiring?” I ask half-jokingly, leaning a hip against the island.

The corner of his mouth tugs upward into a half smile. “We’realways accepting applications. Think you have what it takes? You’d have to be able to lift and carry about two hundred pounds.”

I make apfftsound. “Easy enough. I’m stronger than I look from hauling around books my whole life,” I lie.

He gestures to himself. “Okay, let’s see. Try lifting me.”

“Like, actually pick you up from the ground?” I squeak.

“Yup. If you’re as strong as you say, it should be no problem.”

It’s an impossible feat for my weakling body. I know this. Surely he knows it too. But something about Trevor brings out my playful side. Putting a smile on his usually stone-serious face has become one of my favorite tasks. And I’m always up for the challenge. Being the cause of those crinkle lines around his eyes and that deep, bellowing laugh gives me a high like no other.

To his amusement, I make a show of cracking my knuckles and bending my knees to loosen my joints, like a senior citizen warming up for tai chi in the park. He sucks in a sharp breath, bracing himself when I wrap my arms around his torso. While his spicy scent is an energy booster, he’s a solid mass of muscle that’s virtually unmovable. I attempt multiple times, even restrategizing the angle, squatting to lift him from under the bum, to no avail.

On the fifth try, he sets his hands over my shoulders and squeezes gently to stop me. I don’t blame him. I’ve made this awkward. My forearms are folded snug under his ass and my entire front is pressed into his. “All right, Chen. You’re gonna throw your back out.”

“Yup. This isn’t happening,” I say, wincing as I straighten my spine. “In my defense, you’re a giant, probably much larger than the average person who needs rescuing. And what I lack in strength, I’d make up for in bravery on the job.”

He smiles. “I bet you would. Oh, and you have—uh—some flour—” He points in the vague direction of my face before reaching to brush it from my cheek. The gentleness of the swipe and the warmth of his thumb catch me off guard. My breath hitches when his eyes snag mine. They’re a whirl of darkness pierced by flashes of gold, reflecting from the dim light above us, swirling with all the many things he keeps locked away.

Our eye contact breaks when my phone vibrates against the counter, pulling me back to reality, stopping my overactive mind in its tracks. Trevor steps back a few paces, his shoulders dropping in what looks like relief as he pops the container of cupcakes in the microwave for safekeeping (his grandma’s trick to keep them fresh).

Before I have the chance to scold myself for making things weird with my prolonged eye contact, I see Brandon has texted again, preemptively, even without my planned response.

BRANDON:Want to catch up? There’s a cool new mini putt bar downtown I want to try out.

Trevor’s smug-ass smile has me regretting showing him Brandon’s follow-up text in the first place.

“This was a one-off, by the way,” I point out, still in shock over Brandon’s response as we head down the hallway to our respective bedrooms.

“You just can’t handle the fact that I knew something about dating that you didn’t,” he says, pausing in my doorway.

I catch myself staring at the swoop of the bird’s wing partially visible under his collar. I promptly snap my focus back to my phone. Back to Brandon. “Okay, dating guru, what do I say now?”

chapter ten

LIVE WITH TARAROMANCEQUEEN—THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

EXCERPT FROM TRANSCRIPT

[Tara sits crisscross applesauce on her bed, cradling a worn mass-market paperback like a newborn baby. The ex-boyfriend link chart is out of focus in the background.]

TARA:Hello, romance book lovers, welcome back to my channel. Today we’re talking about the One That Got Away.

The One That Got Away is potentially one of the most tragic of all tropes. I’m hesitant to call it a romance trope, because more often than not, it ends in death and tears. It’s related to second-chance romance and comes in many forms. It could be two lovers who get split up during war and famine, unable to find each other. Maybeone party disappears behind magical stones, two hundred years into the future, where they belong.

If you close your eyes right now, I bet a face comes to mind. It’s someone you wonder about every so often. Someone you have to stop yourself from drunk texting, perhaps? You often wonder what could have been? Maybe you’re already fully aware that you’re missing this long-lost someone, which prevents you from moving forward in your life.

This is Brandon Wang for me.

Anyway, I’ve gotta finish getting ready. I’m about to meet him for drinks in an hour. If anyone has any advice or favorite One That Got Away books, let me know in the comments!

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