Page 27 of Just Friends

I roll my eyes at the teasing. When I first moved in here, Cam, Ellie, and Adam made fun of me for not putting curtains on the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that stretches from the kitchen to the living room, saying the missing curtains were likeMona Lisa’s missing eyebrows. As much as I didn’t want it to stick, it did, and I now have moreMona Lisamerchandise than I know what to do with. It’s a fan favorite gift in our friend group.

Hazel’s hips swish as if there’s a melody in her head that only she can hear as she makes her way through my condo. I follow after her like a lost puppy, cataloging every bit of her, the way I only can when she’s not looking. Today she’s in paint-stained overalls, and there’s a smear of purple fingerprints on the side of her neck, like she was pushing back those stray wisps of hair while she worked. There are matching green smudges on her elbows too, and thinking about how they got there consumes my every thought. The cropped tank she’s wearing leaves slivers of exposed tan skin on either side of her waist. Little temptations that look like they were carved out just for my hands and will haunt me for the rest of the night.

The paper bags rustle as I drop them on the counter, and my eyes flick up to collide with hers. They’re the dark blue of a fathomless ocean that I want to drown in. “How was your day?”

Her fingers tug at the elastic at the end of her braid, and she sifts through the waves, letting them fall around her shoulders. “Good. I finished that big project I’ve been working on.”

“The one for the fitness start-up?”

She nods, sifting through the last of the tangles in her sheet of golden-brown hair.

“And then you painted?”

Her eyebrows pull together like magnets. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

I can’t help but reach out and trail my finger over the spot on her neck, the one I’ve dreamed about tasting. The smoothness of her skin sends my pulse skittering.

“Missed a spot,” I tell her, my voice growing a little huskier at the feeling of her skin on mine.

“Man, I really thought I got it all today,” she says through clenched teeth, flipping on the faucet.

A smile plays at the edges of my lips as I watch her scrub at her neck with a damp paper towel, and I decide not to tell her about the spots on her elbows. They’ll be my little secret, those twin smudges that are more erotic than anything I’ve ever seen.

I’m in a bad way if paint smudges on skin are getting me hot and bothered.

Shaking my head, I start unloading our food. Fresh garlic, earthy cilantro, tangy lime, and fragrant meat perfume the air, making my mouth water.

“I got that Mexican soda you like too,” Hazel says, still wiping stray paint from her skin.

“Want some?” I ask as I pull the glass bottle from the bag.

She waves me off. “I’ll just have a sip of yours.”

My lips press together to hold back a smile. Hazel always orders one drink and thenhas a sip of mine. Which really means she drinks over half of it.

Filling two cups with ice, I split the soda and pour it into each glass. Hazel sidles up next to me.

“I just wanted a sip.”

One of my eyebrows quirks, and a laugh escapes her, more melodic than a symphony.

“Okay, okay, you’re right. Thank you.” She clinks her glass with mine and takes a drink. “What’s the movie tonight?”

With hands loaded up with our food, we make our way to the couch. The white couch gives beneath our weight, cushioning in all the best places. When I moved into this apartment, my first investment was this sofa, and it was worth every penny. I’ve spent countless nights here sharing a blanket with Hazel and watching her watch the movies because I’m a hopeless sap, and her reactions are better than anything on the screen.

“Emma,” I say, handing her a taco wrapped in tinfoil.

“Really?” Her tone is incredulous, and okay, I get where she’s coming from.Emmaisn’t my typical choice, but Lucy gave me homework, and I intend to put more effort into this assignment than anything I’ve ever done.

My shoulders lift in a shrug. “I heard it was good.”

“Good is an understatement,” she says seriously, her eyes lighting up in all the shades of blue: sapphire and cerulean and cobalt and slate. “Emmais a masterpiece.”

I can’t help the smile that tilts my lips at her enthusiasm. Hazel is always beautiful, but when she gets excited about something, she’s absolutelyradiant, like sunshine reflecting on the rippling surface of a cresting wave or light glittering on cut diamonds.

“There’s this one scene when they’re dancing. You know what? You just have to see it,” Hazel says quickly, her words tripping over each other in her eagerness as she searches for the movie. “You’re buying this one, not renting. It’s too good.”

My arm slides over the back of the couch, fingers grazing the smooth silk of her hair. “Yes, ma’am.”

---