Page 6 of Discord
“Good call,” I retorted.
“Here.” Brandon tossed me a cereal box and started organizing the cabinets with the items on the countertop. I gave a start to follow suit, categorizing as he put away each item. “What are you doing?” he asked tartly when I stuffed the cereal box into one of the cabinets.
“That’s where you put the other cereal box,” I replied, surprised. “You gave me the cereal box—”
“Not to organize,” he barked. “To eat. You didn’t have breakfast.”
Oh.
I awkwardly lingered as Brandon blew out an impatient breath. He opened a different cabinet and took out two bowls. I noticed he had also set out a second coffee mug. I supposed he meant to eat with me.
Brandon had put away most of the items when the machine whistled, indicating the milk was heated. He poured hot milk and espresso into the cups, then grabbed the cold, oat milk box and pointedly raised his eyebrows at me.
“Right.” I hastily retrieved the cereal box, hovering as Brandon dumped a generous portion of milk and cereal in both bowls.
He located two spoons and started toward the wooden table with the bowls in hand. Making sure to maintain distance, I grabbed the mugs and took the seat across from him.
“Thank you.” I practically inhaled the coffee.
His gaze flickered over me, but he gave no other acknowledgment, dipping his spoon into the bowl. Who knew we could act civil after all that transpired between us? What a difference sharing a cup of java could make.
We ate in silence for a few minutes. Soon, I became distracted by the milk stains on my baseball shirt. I grabbed a paper towel from the roll sitting on the table and rubbed at the spot.
Brandon stared at me with a heavy frown.
“I don’t want this to set—”
Brandon made an exasperated noise at the back of his throat. “That’s not how you take out a stain.” Annoyed, he rose from his chair and walked to the kitchen sink, grabbing a white rag en route. He turned on the faucet to wet the rag and retrieved a box of baking soda from the fridge. When he returned to the table, he gripped the back of my chair to rotate it, making the legs creak.
“What are you doing?” I protested as Brandon took a knee on the marble floor.
“Stay still,” he ground out, scrubbing my shirt with the cotton rag.
Adrenaline flowed through me, but I remained immobile. Perhaps his hand trembled slightly when it accidentally brushed against my chest. It was also possible my eyes were playing tricks on me since his hands were steady as a rock within the second.
I didn’t dare look at him while he vigorously rubbed the shirt over my stomach. His intense gaze heated my skin, and I held my breath until the large hand disappeared, taking his warmth with it.
I stared at the previously marred spot. “Whoa!” I awed, fascinated.
Brandon stood, balled the rag, and threw it into the kitchen sink. “Do you want another cup of coffee?” he asked, nodding at my already empty mug.
I handed the cup over, saying nothing more. Brandon held my gaze for a moment before grabbing the mug. This was dangerous territory. Living together meant ample access to feed my previous fixation, and I had barely broken free as it was. I munched on another bite of my cereal, preoccupied with the alarming thought.
“Did you hear back from Yale?” he asked while fiddling with the machine.
I spun in my chair to find his eyes resting on me. His stare was so intense that I wondered if I spilled on myself again. Resisting the urge to check, I bobbed my head for yes.
He snorted. “By your enthusiastic response, I assume you can’t wait to start college.”
A ghost of a smile danced on my lips.
“It’s not too late if you don’t want to go.” Brandon cast me a placid look as espresso dispensed into the cup. “It’s not worth wasting years of your life just to please your family.”
“I’d never consider gaining knowledge a waste of time.” I’d never want to stop learning, even if I pursued my other passions.
I could tell my words surprised him by the way his shoulders tensed.
“Besides, how would you know if it’s worth it? You’ve no grounds for comparison.”
