Page 26 of Quarantine Crush
“Sure,” he says with a grin. “I could use a little fresh air.”
I bite my lip, keeping my eyes averted. When I spot my laptop on the side table, I cross the room and snatch it up.
“’Kay. Well, I guess I’ll see you out there,” I say, motioning over my shoulder. I spin, pushing open the sliding glass door, and step out onto the balcony before I can embarrass myself further.
I’ve barely opened my word document and started reading back over the last thing I wrote when Knox finally emerges from the apartment.
“Hey,” he says, sitting down with his own laptop across from me.
I wave, refusing to let him pull me from the story I’m so desperate to finish. But even more than that, I keep my eyes on the screen and hope he doesn’t ask to see what I’m working on. The details of this project are still a secret. Knox knows that I’m writing a book while doing graphic design stuff for the dads part-time–a gig I’ve been holding onto since I graduated. It’s just enough cash to keep a roof over my head while giving me the free time to pursue my writing. What Knox doesn’t know is thekindof book I’m writing. And with any luck, he never will. It’s not like the weirdo reads this kind of stuff.
Whatever mask of concentration I’m wearing must look serious because instead of talking, he begins typing away at his keys, leaving me in peace.
When the latest timer for my word sprint goes off, I glance at my phone, startled to see it’s already noon. I pull off my headphones and glance over at Knox. His brow is furrowed as he alternates between typing and writing something down on paper. I decide not to distract him and push back from the table as quietly as possible.
Knox looks up, his expression puzzled, and I pause halfway out of my seat. “Where ya going, Hess?”
“Sorry,” I say, standing fully and stretching out my back. “You looked like you were in the zone, and I didn’t want to distract you. You ready to take a lunch break?”
“Definitely,” he says. I wait as he closes his laptop and slips the notebook back inside his bag. “I’m starving,” he says, standing and rubbing his stomach. “I forget that breakfast isn’t really a big deal in the US.”
“Sorry,” I say, grimacing. “I live for the liquid breakfast.” I jiggle the long-ago-emptied coffee cup.
He laughs, reaching around me to open the door. “As long as you feed me lunch, you’re forgiven.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not going to die without breakfast, Jacobs.”
“I’m a growing boy,” he says before turning his best puppy-dog eyes on me. “Please feed me, Emy.”
Something about his words and the close proximity of our bodies sends heat pooling low in my belly. My breath hitches, and I open my mouth to tell him exactly what he can eat. I’m saved from the embarrassment that would have sent my best friends running when the doorbell rings.
Knox’s brows bunch in surprise. “Were you expecting someone?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so,” I say, the words sounding far too breathy for my liking. I clear my throat and motion to the table. “You can leave your stuff out here if you want, and we can get a few more hours in after lunch. I’ll go get the door if you want to start digging around in the kitchen. I’m not sure what we grabbed for lunch.”
Knox’s hand lands on my arm as I move past him, stopping me. I glance up at him, confused.
“No way, Emy,” he growls. “If you’re not expecting anyone, I’m coming with you. We’re supposed to be quarantined. It’s not safe.”
I huff out a sound of annoyance and turn back toward the door. “Well, come on then. It’s rude to leave someone waiting.”
“It’s rude to show up at someone’s house uninvited,” Knox mutters under his breath, and I grit my teeth to keep in my retort.
I throw open the door, frowning when I realize there’s no one there, but a smile lights my face when I see the package on my doorstep.
“Did you forget you ordered a package?” Knox asks as he follows me back into my apartment.
“No,” I say, setting the bag on the breakfast bar. I pull off the note that’s taped to the front and smile as I read the scribbled words.
“Embry, not cooking for people is going to drive me crazy, so enjoy this new recipe I’m working on. Maybe we can hang out on the rooftop later, and you can tell me what you think? Reed.”
I pull open the bag, groaning when the smell of ripened tomatoes and garlic hits my nose.
“Well, it looks like lunch is settled,” I say, moving to the kitchen to grab plates.
Knox frowns, peeking into the bag.
“Someone sent you pasta?” he asks.
