Page 15 of Begin Again

She smirks. “You didn’t ask.”

Grabbing the nearest dish towel I throw it at her. She ducks, laughing, and suddenly, I know one thing for sure.

I’m completely screwed.

She doesn’t chase, doesn’t press for attention. But she doesn’t need to—somehow, she always keeps me on my toes, keeps me wanting more.

As we settle at the table, plates full of the dinner we made together. As we eat the conversation flows just as easily as it did at the lake.

“Dinner was great, Hot Shot—” Selene smirks over the rim of her wine glass, eyes playful. “I have to ask—how did you survive all this time without my expert knife skills?”

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. “You mean the ‘expert skills’ that nearly sent a tomato flying across my kitchen?”

She gasps in mock offense. “That was one time.”

I lift a brow. “Thatone timewas ten minutes ago.”

She points her fork at me. “If you keep insulting the chef, I might just take my talents elsewhere.”

“Oh, talents?” I tease, grinning. “So we’re just ignoring the fact that I did ninety percent of the cooking?”

She shrugs, smirking. “Delegation is an important skill.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I take a sip of my drink. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

She says it like it’s a fact, not a question. And maybe it is.

I don’t answer right away, just watching her for a second. The flickering candlelight makes the blue in her eyes stand out, and she looks so at ease—like she belongs here, like she’s always belonged here.

Yeah. I definitely like it.

Instead of saying that, I clear my throat and set down my glass. “Alright, Smartass. Are you ready for your surprise?”

She leans back in her chair, intrigued. “You mean dinner wasn’t the big event?”

I shake my head. “Nope. There’s more.”

Narrowing her eyes, she asks, “Am I going to regret this?”

“Only if you hate fun.”

Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “Alright, Hot Shot. What’ve you got?”

I push back from the table and stand. “Come on.”

She follows me into the living room, where I’ve already set everything up. Selene stops short, blinking at the setup. “No.No way.”

While she was putting the finishing touches on dinner I snuck in here to finish setting up the room. Two blank canvases,in front of the couch, a set of paints and brushes on the table in front of the couch, and I have a Bob Ross painting tutorial pulled up on my TV.

I rub the back of my neck, suddenly a little self-conscious. “You said you hadn’t used real pencil and paper in a while, and I figured—y’know—maybe this could be fun?”

She crosses her arms, studying me with a look that’s half suspicion, half warmth. I don’t know if she’s impressed or if she’s just surprised, but either way, I can feel her gaze settling somewhere deeper than I expected. “You did all this because I told you one time yesterday that I hadn’t sketched in a while? How did you get this stuff? Do you paint?”

I shake my head. “Not unless you count kindergarten finger painting.”

She presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh. “This is either going to be incredible or a complete disaster.”

---