Page 56 of Drop Three

He’s so close that I can see every detail of his striking features: the smooth planes of his poreless skin, the brightness of his emerald green eyes, the light stubble adorning his cheeks, and the fullness of his soft lips. I remember vividly caressing every inch of my body.

“Milk,” he interrupts my intimate thoughts as he hands me the gallon.

How did I not hear him?

“Oh, right. Thanks,” I respond, sending Bodhi a small smile.

He nods.

I squeeze past him standing still at the pantry entrance and grab a bowl from the top cabinet to commence my indulgence.

“I never knew you were a fellow cereal lover like me,” I say, doing my best to distract myself and regulate my body temperature back to a normal degree.

Probably noticing the space I left between us, Bodhi heads back to his place on the couch and responds, “Every night.”

Hmm. It seems tonight is a night of learning many new things about the unapproachable Bodhi St. James.

“Interesting,” I say.

“My mother is Cuban-American and would make all of these crazy Hispanic foods for dinner. I was a picky kid and didn’t like any of it. Wild to think about now because I can throw back some ropa vieja and plantanos. I would legit toss my plate of food out when she wasn’t looking and sneak in the kitchen at night for some cereal. I guess I never really stopped.”

“I didn’t know that. That your mother is Cuban-American, I mean,” I tell him honestly.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Navy.”

“I can see that. Books too, I’m assuming,” I say as more of a statement than a question.

I make my way to the coffee table in front of Bodhi, who is seated on the couch, and settle myself with a large helping of cereal.

Bodhi nods, watching me intently as I consume my body weight in one sitting. “I picked that up on my own. Do you read? I don’t think I ever asked you that.”

I shake my head at the thought. “No. I can’t keep still long enough to focus, and if I do, I’m falling asleep.” I giggle. “Unless I’m sketching.”

“Sketching?” Bodhi looks at me, puzzled.

“Yep.” I nod. “Fashion and interior design. I love it.”

“I guess that explains all the notebooks.”

“Were you snooping in my room? When was this?” I tease him.

“Your door was open, and I might have peeked my head in to see what you’ve done with the place. You are a very chaotic woman.”

I giggle and send him a small smile as I finish my cereal. “I think there might be a lot of thingsyoudon’t know aboutme, catcher.”

“You’d be surprised how much I already know about you, Navy.”

I feel the weight of his stare on me as I look anywhere but at him.

Is this the start of a bridge between us? We fought it out in the alley, apologized, and now we attempt a friendship?

It feels like we’re starting over from scratch.

We both have accepted and come to terms with our new relationship as friends and are building the groundwork.

I love it and hate it all at the same time.

Six months ago, Bodhi knew everything about me. Now, he hardly knows where I am or where I’m going, even while living under the same roof.

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