Page 25 of Weaponized

“Yeah. That is exactly what I mean,” I tell her with a grin.

“Dear God,” I hear Rowan mutter.

Gráinne raises her eyebrow at her brother and then slides out of the booth. She wraps her arms around my waist and goes on tiptoes to give me a peck on the lips. “Good. I already miss you.”

“I’m going to be sick,” is Rowan’s opinion.

What’s odd is that I miss her too, and I’m holding her in my arms right now. I can’t understand how this relationship escalated as quickly as it has. I lean down to kiss the top of her head before pulling away. “I’ll see you soon.”

Is it supposed to be like this? I understand this is lust and not love. I barely even know her. But I want to. Being around her calms me. It just feels so fucking good to be in her presence. Like I can breathe. I like being important to someone. I like that she is honest with me and is candid about how she wants to be with me.Me. No playing hard to get or stupid games. I didn’t even know I was missing this until I found her.

* * *

I show up at her door at 6 p.m. sharp. I decided against bringing anything, because it became too anxiety provoking the longer I thought about it. When I asked Matteo about it, his reply was, “Are you for real right now?” I took that to mean I was supposed to show up empty-handed. I brought my backpack, because she did mention studying. I want to be respectful of that, but there is no way I’ll be able to concentrate on any of my classes with her so close.

The door swings open and I’m greeted by my angel. She’s changed into a yellow sundress with little straps. Her feet are bare, her toenails a pale pink. I’m taking her in when she steps into my space and cups my cheek. “You look good too,” she says and then kisses me.

I get lost in the kiss. I groan when she fully presses into me, and I take the kiss deeper. She tastes like cherries and the feeling of her tits pressed against me is indescribable. Once again, she pulls away too soon.

“I think we’re giving my neighbors a free show.” She smiles shyly before grabbing my hand and pulling me inside. “I made dinner, so I hope you like chicken piccata. It should be out of the oven in just a few minutes.”

“You cooked for me?” I am having a hard time not throwing her onto that oversized sofa I’m looking at. A very hard time.

She nods. “I don’t eat much pasta, but this is still Italian, right? It’s a new recipe to me, but it smells incredible. So far so good.”

I am blown away. She wanted to cook Italian food for me. This girl.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have Coke, Diet Coke, water, Smithwick’s, white wine. Oh, and I think I still have some apple and cranberry juices.”

“You drink beer?” I don’t know why this surprises me.

She shakes her head. “Rowan.”

I guess it makes sense. He must come here a lot for her to stock his beer. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

She cocks her head, considering. “So, you like Sauvignon Blanc?”

“Sauvee—what?”

She laughs. A real, full-bellied laugh. I love the sound enough not to be embarrassed by my lack of wine knowledge.

“It’s a white wine, but you don’t have to drink it. I’m happy to get you a beer.”

“I don’t want to drink your brother’s beer. Pretty sure he hates me enough.” And, while I don’t want to care about that, it’s obvious that Gráinne loves her brother. I can tell by how affectionately she looks at him.I don’t need him giving her a hard time about me.

“It’s my beer,” she says with a smile. “It came with my grocery order.”

I nod at this. “You’re twenty-one?”

“Nope,” she replies but then gets pulled away by the oven timer before I can ask her how she gets alcohol delivered at her age. What is she? Maybe nineteen? Twenty? I add it to the list of the many things I want to know about her.

“What can I do to help?” I have to ask not only because it’s polite, but also because I’m standing here, completely useless, while she’s fussing around in her small kitchen.

“If you’d set these plates and silverware on that table”—she nods in its direction—“that would be great. I’ll bring out the food.”

I do as instructed, grabbing our drinks as well. Soon, Gráinne begins placing a few platters of food on the table. “I know it looks like a lot, but I’m guessing you eat more than I do.” Yeah, good guess.

She’s made chicken with a few different side dishes. She motions to it all. “Go on. Load up, big guy.” And I don’t need to be told twice. I pile food on my plate before I can contemplate whether I should be showing better manners than eating like I normally do. I guess not, because Gráinne looks pleased as she watches me. I wait for her to fill her own plate with not enough food to keep a pigeon alive before taking a bite. I moan. It really is good.

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