Page 28 of The Likelihood Of You

It’s only after a minute of me wandering the ground floor and darting my eyes into every little corner, when the gentle slam of a door catches my attention. I twist my body in the direction of the slam, and I freeze as I watch her stride her way over to me.

“Sorry, I had to change. Baking in a cute outfit makes me nervous.” Her smile grows as she emerges from the door that I’m guessing leads to the bathroom, but all I can do is stare like a weirdo at how effortlessly gorgeous she looks in grey sweatpants and a tight white bodysuit.

I’d enjoyed seeing what outfit she chose to come to work in these last couple of weeks—and also resented it. On the one hand, the girl knew how to put an outfit together that made me want to do nothing but burn my script and stare at her all day; on the other hand, I had a really hard time not following through with that plan.

Her casual elegance that was striding across the floor as she tied her hair in a loose bun was no exception either.

“Would you like a beer, or water, or… whatever beverage I have in my fridge before I get started?” she asked, pulling an apron that had little red hearts embroidered on it over the top of her head and synching it around her waist.

I felt like an asshole for staring while she pulled the two strings tighter until they were in a bow, but the way it made her figure morphinto even more of a silky hourglass shape put me in the deepest of trances.

“Uhh,” my mouth went bone dry. “Uh, no, I’m good, thanks.” She smiled sweetly before pulling ingredients from the cupboards above her head. I mentally shake out whatever hold she’s got over me and join her in the kitchen.

“So… explain to me again why I’m here,” I ask, a laugh slipping from my lips when I notice the mountain of baking gadgets and the dozen eggs rolling around on the counter.

“Is there a more sophisticated way of calling you my lab rat?” She asks, herding up the eggs.

“You know, I don’t think there is.”

She giggles. “Well then… you’re my lab rat.” We both laughed this time. “Before I go all in with my bakery, and before I even think about looking for places to rent to set up shop, I need to get a general idea of what you New Yorkers are actually going to like. And in the name of not playing into stereotypes, I won’t be stocking any basic bagels.”

Her mention of the word ‘bagel’ didn’t affect me straight away; maybe it was her accent that distracted me (it usually is), but once I remembered that I had a giant beast of golden fur waiting for me at home, my heart stopped.

“Fuck, bagel!” I whisper-shouted, bringing my palms over my face.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I do love them, but for one, I can’t make them, and two—”

“No,” I say calmly. “I meant my dog… Bagel. I completely forgot about her.” I try not to picture her waiting by the door, wondering what on earth happened to the tall human who provides food and babbles about his life.

My mind flicks to Nate, wondering if there’s a chance he could go over and check on her, but he doesn’t know I’m here either, and after already getting a spanking from Charlie, I don’t know if I’m in the mood to have another collaring from him about Florence and how I feel about her. He also left work with Addy again tonight, so asking her was probably pointless, too.

I had a feeling this was karma catching up to me for derailing all my responsibilities for the girl in the apron, who looked more concerned than I wanted her to.

“We can reschedule… if you'd like?” She said, “If you need to go, that’s okay.”

Without thinking, which seemed to be a running theme for my brain today, I straightened my spine and said, “Come with me.” Her face didn’t budge. “Grab whatever you need, and we’ll do this experiment at my place instead.”

Part of me was referring to the baking.

She looked up at me, and I’m surprised she held my gaze for as long as she did without hurting her neck from how far back she had to angle it to reach my eyes, but those sparkling green gems stayed on mine, the floor beneath my feet seeming to shake the more we stared.

Until her lips parted, and my attention drifted down her face. “Are you sure? I didn’t want to disrupt your time this much. I—"

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to help, Flo.” I dashed her a quick smirk before turning towards the countertop to collect the eggs that were still rolling around amongst the scales and measurement cups.

It took her a few seconds of staring at the side of my head before she joined me in grabbing her things. She kept her apron on but threw acardigan over the top to hide it, slipped on some fluffy slippers that sat by her door, and then grabbed her keys to lock up as we left.

We were in a car on the way to my apartment now, neither of us are talking, but it’s less of an awkward silence… and more of a comfortable one.

Like we’ve done this a million times. Like this was our plan from the moment she asked me if I was free tonight. The more time I spent with her, the more I released this calmness and ease between us wasn’t my brain trying to trick me into thinking it was something more than just us being friends. It was truly just that easy.

Part of me hated that it felt this right sitting next to her, knowing what she’s been through to even be sat next to me. Part of me wants to ask her if she feels it, too.

And part of me was still sending shivers of sheer terror through me at the thought that I was being naive again, and her easiness was just a play I’d sat through before.

Chapter eleven

Florence

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