Page 143 of Finance Bros

Malcolm avoids the question and says, “This is really fucking good. I think your roommate has a thing for you.”

I laugh, despite the abrupt subject change. “Why do you say that?”

“Comfort food like this? Soup? It’s a love language.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Like how Mom always made us soup when we were sick,” he says.

“That’s cause she thinks it’s a cure for everything.”

“She’s a nurse. She knows what cures things.”

I grimace. “Don’t make me have to think about Deacon likethat.”

Mal laughs but doesn’t take it back. I don’t let my thoughts go there. “He made this for you, too.”

“Maybe he wants in on the action.”

I nearly spit out my mouthful. “Stop. Jesus, Mal.”

“Doesn’t appeal?” he asks.

“No!”

“That was adamant. You used to be pretty good about sharing.”

“Withyou, not…you.”

His blue-green eyes gleam with satisfaction. “Careful. Sounds like you might want to commit to something.”

“That’s not anywhere close to what I’m saying,” I say, but in terms of holding my ground in this conversation, he’s got me on my heels. I perform an ungraceful turning of the tables. “Besides, your girlfriend is back in two days. You won’t be my problem anymore.”

His mouth drops open, and I swear his skin loses a shade of color. “What?”

“Isn’t she coming home Wednesday?”

“I’m yourproblem?”

He’s always been my problem, but in this case I was joking—about that part, at least. “Look, I just needed you to shut up about Deacon?—”

“You think you’re getting rid of me Wednesday?”

“Am I not?” I ask.

“No. Are you fucking kidding?”

The chowder isn’t settling well. I reach over and put the mug on my nightstand. “It’s hard to imagine you not being with her.”

“It’s impossible to imagine not being withyou,” he says.

My stomach does a one-eighty flip.

“But if that’s some kind ofproblemfor you…”

I take his soup and put it aside, too. Call it a moment of weakness or whatever, but those words, more than anything he’s ever said to me, dissolve my resistance. I put my arms around him and swing my leg over his hips. I pull him close, pressing a kiss to one cheek while I cradle the other.

He takes advantage of my obvious vulnerability and kisses me firmly. My heart can barely tolerate it. I’m broken open. Exposed. I’m the same stupid kid with a crazy crush he had no business having. All that talk about the risks he loves so much slips into the space he opened up, and I’m ready to take one. “I want this,” I tell him.

---