Page 57 of There's No Us Without You
“What are you doing?”
Will’s voice startles me, making me jump and spill coffee down the front of my bare chest. It burns all the way down to my stomach, then seeps into the elastic of my grey sweatpants.
“Fuck, dude. Seriously?” I glare at Will as I snatch a tea towel from the bench and wipe the remainder of the cooling coffee from my skin. I’ll have to fucking shower again thanks to this arsehole.
Will shakes his head and shoves past me to grab a mug from the cupboard next to my head. “Maybe you would have heard me if you weren’t so busy daydreaming.”
Clearing my throat, I try to ignore the tingling of the skin on my upper arm where Will’s naked chest just brushed against it. The guy is cut as fuck, and if that wasn’t enough to have the women and men flocking, the tattoos covering his body definitely do. It’s just the constant scowl on his face that’s somewhat of a deterrent. Although, that’s the way he likes it—feelings bad, emotionless arsehole good.
“I wasn’t daydreaming,” I say as I throw the towel back on the bench and bring the mug to my lips, pausing to finish my sentence. “I was thinking.”
Will slams his mug onto the granite and side-eyes me. “Tell me you aren’t sleeping with Eden.”
Well, this is interesting. Is Will... jealous? Never thought I’d see the day when Willis Becker cared enough.
“Is that why you’re in a mood? You think I’m having sex with her?” I keep my focus on him, following his movements as he grabs the instant coffee from beside the kettle, then heaps two teaspoons into the mug before filling it with boiling water.
I don’t know how many times I need to tell him that instant crap is... well, crap.
“Don’t be stupid—move.” Shoving me with his hip, he opens the fridge door and grabs the milk from the shelf. “I know you aren’t having sex. What you’re doing is worse.”
I raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Worse? Enlighten me. Please.”
“Don’t be cute.” Tipping the milk bottle, Will pours a small amount into the mug and stirs it into the coffee with the teaspoon. “You know what I’m fucking talking about, Emerson Grant de Silva.”
Well . . . shit.
We’re using full names. He’s pissed. And that’s reiterated when he drops the milk bottle back in its place on the inside of the fridge door and slams it shut, making everything inside rattle. Is his anger purely in relation to what I’m doing with Eden? Or does it have something to do with the fact it’s Friday and he’ll be preparing himself for his regular weekly visit into his childhood trauma? I just wish he would talk to me about it—I hate that he bears the pain alone.
“Listen, man,” I say, nudging him in the side with my elbow to try and lighten the mood. “I’ve got it under control, okay? Don’t worry about it.”
Although, that’s a lie. I don’t have much of anything under control, especially when it comes to Eden. For starters, two things were apparent when I woke up this morning in her bed alone. The first, and most obvious one, was the massive bonerI was sporting. The second one—also the worst—is the fact I’m becoming more and more attached to the dark-haired beauty I’ve been sleeping next to for the last week.
Will frowns, bringing the mug to his lips. For a moment he’s in suspended animation—the only thing moving is the tiny throbbing vein in his forehead. I’m almost tempted to wave a hand in front of his face. That is, until he breathes heavily out of his nose and finally takes a sip.
“You better hope you have it under control,” he says after swallowing. “Because I’m not picking up the pieces when your little game goes to shit. Eden literally broke off her wedding two weeks ago tomorrow.”
I suppress the urge to smirk. Will is doing that thing where, when something is meaningful or important to him, he counts days, hours, minutes. If he realises it or not, it isn’t for me to say, but it sure as hell is adorable.
“Go on,” I say, drumming my fingers on my mug. “Two weeks, you say. I hadn’t noticed. It’s also very precise.”
“What does that have to do with anything? I have a good memory, so what?”
“You like her.”
Will scoffs, averting his eyes from my face to the contents of his mug. “If you think I have feelings for?—”
The latch on the front door clicks before the door opens and Eden appears. I clear my throat while she drags her feet towards us, rubbing her stomach. I’m not sure she’s even seen us until she glances up.
With a yawn, she mumbles, “Afternoon,” and shoves past us both on her way towards the coffee machine. Looks like we’re all living off fumes today, coffee our saviour.
It’s hard not to stare at her, and I’ve done plenty of that over the lasttwo weeks, but right now, it’s more out of concern.
Her hair is piled on the top of her head, and she’s wearing a pair of black tights that hug her thick thighs and an oversized T-shirt cropped to her waist. As much as I’m loving witnessing Eden feel more comfortable around us, she’s also more pale than usual, which is saying something because she’s as pale as they come.
With a frown, I grab a mug from the cupboard and hand it to her. “How was your first day back at work? You feeling okay?”
Our fingers touch for the briefest of seconds, but Eden ignores the fact she just zapped me, and shoves the mug under the spout of the coffee machine.
