Page 23 of Touch Me

“Mind if I join you?” I freeze, those friendly words slipping from my mouth with a casual tone I hardly recognize.

Any other day, I would sit at the table and eat on my own, even with my siblings around. It’s more than wanting to thank her for the food. Iwantto be near her.

Who even am I right now?

Her eyes pop open and she jumps. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry. I just want to thank you for breakfast. And for the step-by-step instructions. Next time use pictures, though. I told you I’m like a toddler.”

I stop just short of the table and stand still for a beat, running through memories like a flash drive in my head. When have I ever talked this much, or wanted to talk this much? I don’t even recognize myself. Cassie looks up and shields her eyes from the sun, but the look on her face says it all. She’s just as confused as I am.

Say something, you idiot.

I clear my throat and set my plate on the table. “And what’s with the toast tepee?”

“It’s a tent. It’s for the bread sweat.” She scrunches up her nose and shivers. “Grosses me out.”

I cock my head and raise a brow. “I’m sorry, did you say bread sweat?”

“Yeah. You know when you make toast, and the heat causes the bread to sweat on the underside, and it’s all wet when you pick it up?” She sticks her tongue out and mock gags.

I laugh out loud. “I have never heard of that, but that’s hilarious. And totally understandable. I’ve been a victim of bread sweat in the past, but never realized the solution was so simple. A toast tepee.”

“It’s atent,” she reiterates. “It really only works with toast. You can’t do it with tortillas or anything.”

“So, what do you do when you eat tacos?”

She straightens in her chair and holds up two fingers. “Two things. One, if it’s a soft shell, I pick it up and never put it down. Ladylike or not, I’ll eat it until it’s gone.” I smile, and she shrugs. “Two, hard shells get crushed and my taco is now a taco salad. Have you ever had a hard shell taco get all bendy in your hand? It’s criminal. Nope, can’t do it.” She shivers again, and her eyes are alight with humor, the green so bright it shimmers.

I realize I’m staring and clear my throat. She has a slight smirk on her face and closes her laptop. I dig into the omelet, and holy crap, this is amazing. Better than the piece of fruit and granola bar I would have grabbed. Hell, it’s better than anything I would’ve ordered in, too.

She brushes crumbs off the shirt she’s wearing and the smug smirk on Pat Benatar’s face mocks me. “So, do you have to work today?” she asks.

“I have a few things to do, but not much.” Before I realize it, half the omelet is gone, and I have to refrain from shoveling it in my mouth so as to not look like a caveman.

“How does that work? How are you a lawyer from home?”

I finish the bite of food before answering. “I’m not a lawyer.”

“Oh, I thought you went to law school?”

I nod, taking a smaller bite this time. “I did.”

She tilts her head to look at me, but I keep my eyes on the food. “So, you didn’t graduate?”

I chew slowly before I answer. “I graduated.”

She winces and clicks her tongue. “Couldn’t pass the Bar Exam?”

“I passed.”

She tugs on her lip, her brows furrowing. “But you’re not a lawyer?”

“I’m not a lawyer.”

She throws up her hands and flexes her fingers with her lips clamped between her teeth. I’m not sure what’s going on, maybe she got bit by a bug or something? Oh, I bet it’s cramps. Was I supposed to buy supplies for that? Does Postmates deliver feminine products? This is a whole new level of anxiety. I don’t even know what size her pu—

“Jace?” She gently folds her hands in her lap and smiles.

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