Page 17 of Except You

The two of them would make great friends, and I smile at the thought. I think the two of them would get into so much trouble together.

That thought carries me out of the bathroom, set on making us breakfast.

I’m halfway through frying the bacon when Beau meanders into the kitchen, looking adorably rumpled.

“God, I’m so sorry I fell asleep and probably snored the entire night through, but that bed is delicious.”

He plops down at the small table opposite me and rubs at his eyes. He’s wearing one of my flannel jackets and it hangs off him, dwarfing him. I’m slightly bigger than him so it makes sense that my clothes would sag on his smaller frame.

“It’s okay,” I reply and then hold up my spatula. “I’m making breakfast. I have work in a few hours, so I can’t hang out today.”

“Oh, right. I guess I have to work too. Such a bummer, being an adult.”

I grin at him, and he smiles back, pushing himself up and walking to the coffee machine.

“Don’t have an espresso machine, do ya?”

“Nope. Nothing fancy. Just this.”

He sighs, and a part of me wants to go out and buy one for next time, but I push that thought away. That’s just insane. There won’t be a next time.

This is a one-time thing. It won’t happen again.

“You have to hit that button,” I explain, and Beau rolls his eyes at me.

“I know how to make a coffee, okay? This thing is built for kindergartners.”

I nudge him and he nudges me back, and then I reach over and hand him a mug.

“Why thank you, kind sir. Also, what are you making me?”

He hits the coffee button and then props his chin on my shoulder.

“Eggs, hash browns, some bacon.”

“Very fancy. You know, Max, you treat me better than most men. And those men are getting some.”

I shift on my feet, feeling my body heat slightly. “Well, all I got was your drool on me last night.”

Beau gasps and then pokes at my side. “I do not drool. I’m angelic when I sleep.”

I mean, he kinda was, but I’m not gonna admit it, so I just shrug and get back to cooking. Beau grabs his cup of coffee, douses it in cream and sugar, and then sits up on the counter, his long legs swinging back and forth as he chats with me.

I nod my head as I listen, his words making something inside of me flutter and come alive. I haven’t felt like this in so long, maybe my whole life actually. But something about Beau brings it out of me, he pulls it from me so effortlessly.

Why is it so easy with him?

I hand him his plate and he sets it on his lap, shoveling food into his mouth, moaning like he does when something tastes really good. I heard him do that last night while sipping those fruity drinks, and he wasn’t even ashamed people were staring.

Maybe one day I can be like him—not caring what people think and just being myself.

“Damn, you make good eggs, Max. I’m gonna call you the egg maker.”

“Please don’t.”

He grins and then snaps off a piece of bacon.

“You know what you need? You need a dog.”

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