Page 48 of Never the Bride
His eyes don’t leave mine as he picks up his bowl, brings it to his lips, and slurps the milk from the side. A small drop of liquid rolls down his chin, but he only smiles as he wipes it off with his forearm.
What used to be an ick for me has become the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I head to the pantry, spotting a jar of uncooked rice on the top shelf. It’s annoyingly high, but I climb the stepstool anyway, stretching my arm as far as I can. My fingers brush the glass but don’t quite grip it. Just a little farther…
The stool wobbles beneath me, and my breath catches. My stomach dips as the wood tilts to the side, my balance slipping.
And then Hess is there.
I don’t even know where he came from.
Strong hands close around my waist, steadying me before I can fall. The stool stops rocking, but he doesn’t let go. His palms are firm against my skin, and a spark shoots through me when I realize my shirt has shifted, allowing his warm touch.
I turn my head and meet his eyes. They’re closer than I expected, and for a second, I forget why I was in the pantry in the first place. The air between us feels tight, ignited, my chest rising and falling too fast.
I should step down. I should move. But I don’t. Not right away.
“You good?” His voice is rough, lower than usual, and it makes something flutter deep inside me.
I nod, but I can’t move. Then his thumb shifts against my hip, the tiniest brush, but enough to send my pulse racing. My throat thickens, and I have to look away to ease the tension.
He releases me slowly, his hands dropping from my sides. I clutch the jar to my chest, trying to steady myself. When our eyes meet again, just for a second, I know he felt the spark of attraction too, in the most ordinary moment possible.
It’s then and there I decide that hiding away in my room might just be my only option.
Camila
It’s early,sun brimming on the horizon. I tiptoe to the front door, trying to leave for work without disturbing Hess. I could say it’s because I don’t want to wake him. I mean, that’s part of it, but also, I don’t want him to know how early I’m going to work. There’s already been some judgmental looks from his side the past three weeks when I got home late at night.
But Hess is partly to blame for my crazy work hours. The ridiculous commute from his house forces me to leave and return when traffic isn’t as heavy. So maybe I should be louder in the mornings. Maybe he deserves to be woken up.
Just as I get to the front door and step onto the porch, Harvey, the dog I want nothing to do with, barrels after me, tongue lolling, eyes bright. He jumps up on me, paws smacking against my clean skirt.
“Ugh, Harvey!” I grimace, stumbling back. His fur brushes my hands, and I flinch, holding my palms in the air to minimize the touching. “No. Down.” My voice comes out sharper than Iintend, but I don’t care. Dogs arenotmy thing. And this dog has been following me to the door every morning for the last three weeks as if we’re friends, and it’s getting old.
He tilts his head, confused, before lowering himself to the ground, tail wagging slower now. When I turn away, his whole body seems to sag. The sight of him standing there, ears drooping like I’ve just broken his heart, stops me mid-step.
I sigh, rolling my eyes at myself, and turn back. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
The second I move toward him, he perks up, tail thumping wildly against the porch. I crouch a little, holding my bag close so he doesn’t slobber all over it. “Since we’re living together, and you don’t seem to be getting the hint, we need some ground rules.” My tone is firm, businesslike, the same way I’d negotiate a contract.
His ears twitch. He listens.
“Rule one: no jumping on me. Not on my nice work clothes. Not on my ugliest sweats. Never. Okay?”
His tail keeps going, unbothered.
“Rule two.” I straighten, pointing a finger at him like he’s an associate in training. “No lying on my bed. Ever.” I learned quickly the last few weeks not to leave my bedroom door open, or Harvey will plant himself on my mattress. “I know it used to be Hess’s bed, but there’s a new sheriff in town, and I’m not living like that.”
Harvey blinks up at me, still grinning that ridiculous dog grin.
I give him a quick pat, more a bop on the head than anything, and turn toward my car, calling behind me, “Don’t open the door to strangers! I’ll be home really late tonight. I’ve got dinner with my friends.” I swing my car door open and glance back at him. Harvey sits tall, tail sweeping the porch as if he’s just been promoted. “Don’t wait up!”
Tonight isour monthly friend dinner at Oregano’s. We’ve been doing this since we graduated high school—probably a big reason why our friendships have lasted over the years.
We go around the table, each giving an update on our lives over the past month. It’s Juliet’s turn.
“I have some news to tell you all that might not come as a surprise, but?—”
