Page 79 of The Lair

He doesn’t come back until the pizzas are done, and I don’t think I’ve struggled so much to take something out of the oven before. Not because these pizzas are particularly heavy, but because Travis is wearing sweatpants. Grayones.

“Need help?” he asks as he enters the kitchen, making my cheeks grow hotter than the stupid oven.

“It’s fine. I got it.” I set one of the trays down and reach for the other one. “I hope you like pepperoni and cheese. I didn’t get too creative.”

He starts cutting the pizzas into small triangles. “Smells great, Allie. Thanks for dinner.”

Is that my heart soaring a little? I think so.

“It’s nothing. Where do you usually eat? I’ll grab us some plates.”

“You cooked. I got it from here,” he decides. “The couch is fine. You can go sit down.”

It hits me then, as I sit on the couch, that I’ve never hung out here. For some reason, I didn’t feel like I was allowed to be in the living room even though Travis explicitly told me I could hang out in every room of the house except his bedroom—as if.

Travis comes back a couple of minutes later, carrying two plates full of pizza slices. He sets them on the coffee table and goes back to grab two glasses of water and some napkins. Then he sits on the other end of the couch, as far from me as he can without falling off the edge. I try not to let it bother me too much.

“Wanna watch something?” he asks, his eyes glued to the TV he’s just turned on.

“Sure.”

I don’t know what I expected Travis to put on, but a sitcom wasn’t it. Two episodes later, both pizzas are gone thanks to my boss’s insane appetite. I mean, I get it—he has to sustain that ginormous body. I overheard him once saying he works out a few times a week, so it makes sense that he needs the energy.

Wordlessly, he gets up and carries our empty plates to the kitchen once we’re done. And then he comes back, turns off the light, and sits back down on his side of the couch.

This is fine. Totally fine. We’ve just had a homemade dinner together, and now we’re watching TV like friends would do. No biggie.

Did I mention he’s wearing gray sweatpants?

The show we’re watching is one of my favorites, but I find it hard to concentrate on anything but the man sitting only a few inches away. I steal the quickest glance at him, and I regret it only a second later. His sitting position is relaxed, both of his legs open. One of his hands is holding his head that is tilted to the side, and the other hangs loosely over his thigh. A thigh I bet would be more comfortable than this couch.

I don’t want to climb into his lap. Get a grip.

It’s late and dark, and I’m exhausted. It must be that. So when the current episode ends, I turn to Travis.

“If I don’t go to bed now, I’ll fall asleep on your couch and drool all over it, and neither of us wants that.” Is that a tiny smile? “Have a good night, Travis.”

He tips his chin. “Good night, Allie.”

As I head for my bedroom, I can’t help but do a little victory dance in my head. I survived tonight. I had dinner with Travis and behaved like a normal human being.

“Allie. Wait.”

He’s on his way to the hallway, only a few feet away, when I turn around.

“Yeah?”

Something weird happens next. Travis, the man who oozes confidence from every pore in his body, hesitates. He opens and closes his mouth once before frowning, as if he couldn’t believe he’s struggling with whatever he wants to say.

Huh.

But this is still Travis, which means he recovers quickly.

“There’s a New Year’s party by the lake coming up. A few of us are going.”

This must be the gathering Charlie and Lola told me about. But why is he bringing it up?

“Would you like to come with me?”

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