Page 19 of Love, Just In

My brow tightens because I don’t know the answer to that, but Zac instantly registers my hesitation andclimbs to his feet, clutching an empty beer bottle. ‘This game’s stupid,’ he says, giving the boys all the ammunition they need.

Phrases like ‘Zac’s too scared to kiss Josie’ and ‘Zac doesn’t want Josie to see how much he likes her’ are sung in taunting tones by people I’m too scared to look at. Instead, I watch Zac stalk off towards Cody’s rumpus-room bar fridge in the hunt for another drink. An urge to get up and follow him rolls through me, but I ignore it. That’ll get us even more teased.

Instead, I cross my legs and watch the game bottle pass to Lucas. There must be a dip in the carpet or something because when Lucas spins the bottle, it stops at me again.For crying out loud.Fearful of another round of ridicule, I quickly crawl forward and tug Lucas towards me by his scrawny shoulders, planting a kiss on his trembling lips. The circle erupts in wolf whistles and cheers.

When I shift back to my spot, Amy high-fives me, and my gaze snags on Zac’s as he watches from the bar fridge. He offers me a cool, detached smile, but an empty feeling overcomes my stomach, like I’ve rejected him or something, when it shouldn’t be like that between us in the first place.

Josie, it’s just Zac. You should have given him one measly kiss.

What the hell are you so afraid of?

CHAPTER 8

Today

I’m arms-deep in garlic, mince and breadcrumbs, attempting to roll meatballs that aren’t shaped like ball sacks, when Zac steps through the beaded curtain draped across the kitchen doorway. A bottle of shiraz dangles from one hand while his other clutches a leather strap leading to the cutest dog on earth.

Before I can utter a word, Davide snatches the wine from Zac and deposits a kiss on both his cheeks, French-style, before making little high-pitched barking calls at Trouble. Zac just stares at me over Davide’s head, and I nearly choke on my snicker. When Davide turns his back, I do a little impersonation of a moustache-twirling Frenchman and immediately feel guilty, even as Zac is shuddering with silent laughter.

‘Thanks for coming, baby,’ I say for Davide’s benefit as Zac strolls over to me.

‘Any chance to see you, gorgeous.’

OK, these words sound even weirder coming out of our mouths than I would’ve thought. But I need Davide to see this so he doesn’t get the wrong idea about our living arrangement.

Zac steps close behind me, bracing his palms against the counter on either side of my arms. ‘What are we making?’ he asks. Speaking near my ear, his rich voice vibrates through me.

‘Spaghetti with Italian meatballs,’ I reply, trying not to tremble. What is with me tonight? I couldn’t count how many times I’ve hugged Zac or given him a shoulder massage. We’ve been physically close countless times over the years, but I’ve never reacted this way. It must be another unfortunate symptom of having spent so much time apart.

Davide twists open Zac’s shiraz without asking, and the bottle glugs as he fills three comically large glasses to the rim, draining the bottle.

‘Yeah, sure, you can open that. Why not,’ Zac says with a sarcastic smile while Davide hands us each a glass.

Just as Zac taps his glass with mine in a ‘cheers’ gesture, Davide gives his Tibetan singing bowl a strike with a mallet to balance the energy in the room. The shock of the hollow clang makes me jerk my backside into Zac’s crotch, my wine nearly spilling as I flinch away.Jesus Christ.

Zac sets down his glass and brings his lips close to my ear. ‘Stop bouncing.’

He scoops out a chunk of mince and cups it between his deft fingers, rolling it into a tight ball in front of me.

Davide sits at the dining table and points his gaze in our direction, so Zac dials our little performance up a notch.

‘You’re so sweet to cook for me, beautiful.’ He lightly nuzzles his nose into my hair, his breath tickling my neck and making goosebumps explode over my skin. I tilt my face away while giving myself a silent lecture to stop being so skittish and childish. This isZac.

A recording of wind chimes tingles from Davide’s back pocket. He grunts an apology and pads upstairs to answer his phone, carrying his cauldron of wine.

Cold, empty air blasts me from all directions when Zac instantly drops away now that Davide’s not present.

‘Thanks for that,’ I say a little throatily as Zac moves to stand beside me, still expertly rolling meatballs while Trouble pushes between his ankles.

‘Anytime. Although I’m a bit worried this was even necessary. What actually happened—was Davide just roaming around upstairs with his kit off, or is it a full-blown nudist colony around here?’

‘Full-blown, full-frontal nudist colony. He was parading around the house without a stitch on, and at one point, I’m pretty sure he made eyes at me while his junk was blowin’ in the wind.’

When the frown deepens in Zac’s brow, flashing me back to the time he physically threw Felix out ofour apartment, I steer the conversation towards work. As we continue rolling meatballs, I fill him in on my first week at NRN News and how I’ve made quick friends with my colleague Lola.

‘I also metMeghan,’ I say, dramatically drawing out the name.

Instead of replying, Zac attempts a sip from his overfilled wine glass, trying not to spill it down his black T-shirt, which, I notice, is stamped with the words ‘Kill Them With Kindness’.

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