Page 16 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
He was in the living room, maybe just passing through, maybe not. His eyes flicked toward the balcony for a half-second, then away.
Had he been watching me? Or was I in the way?
I slipped back inside, tugging the door gently shut. Perhaps I should ask if it's okay to use the balcony. It was his home, after all.
Tomorrow. I’d check tomorrow.
I woke early, pulled on leggings and a tank top, and walked toward the kitchen, hair still damp from a quick shower. I figured Liam would be gone already.
He wasn’t.
We nearly collided in the hallway, he was coming around the corner fast, duffel bag over his shoulder, keys in hand.
"Oh, sorry," I said, stepping back quickly.
"No, that was me, my bad." He shifted like he wasn’t sure if he should keep moving or wait. “I don’t want to be late for practice. New coach and all.”
I smiled.
His eyes dropped briefly to my sneakers. "Heading out?"
"Not yet. Just… caffeine."
"There’s coffee in the carafe," he said. "Still hot."
I nodded, then immediately tugged the neckline of my tank top a little higher. "Thanks. Do you happen to have any milk?"
He winced. "Just black. Sorry."
"No worries. I’ll adapt."
He turned to go, then paused. "Hey, if you're out running errands later, would you mind picking something up for me?"
"Sure. What do you need?"
"Fresh basil. There’s a guy at the farmers market, on 14th, near the bookstore, who usually has the best. If you're down that way, that’d be amazing." He hesitated. "Only if it’s not a pain."
I tilted my head. The exact location where I should get the basil felt oddly specific. "I can do that."
He gave a quick nod. "Thanks."
Then he was gone.
I stared at the door for a second, then headed for the coffee.
The coffee was, unsurprisingly, perfect. Strong, hot, not burnt. The man had range.
I spent the next hour responding to emails, making a few calls for Nolan’s community fundraiser, and outlining a timeline for a new grant proposal I’d been consulting on. Mid-morning, I ran a few errands for Brooke, light bulbs, batteries, and a pickup order from the pharmacy.
By the time I reached the market, the farmers' market stalls were already packing up. I veered off to a nearby chain grocery instead, faster, no crowds, no weaving through produce bins.
They were out of fresh basil.
I stood in front of the empty bin for a full thirty seconds before grabbing a glass jar of the dried stuff and tossing it into mybasket, along with a bagged salmon fillet, pre-cooked quinoa, and microwaveable green beans.
Not ideal. But it was dinner. Efficient, dependable, not likely to spill.
Like me.
