Page 7 of Reverse Pass
Just then a timer goes off and he pulls his headphones down to his neck, creating the perfect opportunity for me to ruin his good time.
“As much as I appreciate the view, generally the rule is hookups don’t get to use the kitchen.” I cross my arms over my chest, feigning more irritation than I actually feel and daring him to argue with me.
He flinches ever so slightly, clearly surprised by my presence, and turns around slowly to face me. His warm brown eyes meet mine, and a slow smirk spreads across his face as his eyes search over me with interest. I’m distracted again, because his chest and abs are, well, a lot. All of him isa lot.
I’ve never really been envious before, and certainly not of Joss as we’re polar opposites. She likes guys in rock bands. I like nerds in lab coats. I had been happy with Cam, and happy for Joss. But now, in this moment? The green-eyed monster might finally be rearing its little head.
“Violet,” he says warmly, with a voice that sounds like what honey over gravel might if it had a sound.
My eyes snap back up to his face at the familiarity with which he says my name, like he knows it all too well. I almost ask him to repeat it. Maybe I misheard him.
His smirk reaches his dimples at my confusion, and then my brain catches up with all the clues I should have put together, making it obvious exactly who’s standing in front of me. Who I’d just been lusting after like an absolute idiot.
Fuckity fuck.
“Ben!” My voice hits an irritatingly high-pitched note I didn’t know I was capable of as I attempt to cover my tracks.
I rush over and throw my arms around him like I would have if he were still the little kid I remembered instead of the hot-as-hell man who is currently standing shirtless in my kitchen. Bonus points that the hug was giving me the opportunity to hide my face and the hot flush of embarrassment I’m sure is spreading up my neck and cheeks as we stand here.
His arms loosely and hesitantly wrap around me for a moment before bringing me in for a tighter hug. He smells and feels as amazing as he looks, and I immediately regret the rush to hug him. His warm skin against mine is setting off tiny sparks of interest, quickly chased off again by my embarrassment and the result is me just feeling like an entire pool of awkwardness. It’s like my otherwise very sensible brain is short circuiting trying to make sense of this.
Best friend’s little brother. Best friend’s little brother. I’d just keep saying it as a mantra, and it would stick, right?
I glance up at him and then back down, realizing it was a bad idea as I seem to have zero control over my eyes or anything else in this moment. I feel like I can barely contain my reaction to him, and I’m just praying I seem awkward from tiredness and time and not your sister’s-friend-is-perving-out-on-you awkward.
Focus.
“I’m so sorry. I forgot you were going to be here today. Class was a mess, I had to deal with a student problem and got locked in a meeting with a professor, and then I just assumed you were Joss’s…” I trail off.
“Chef?” he offers, something dancing behind his eyes as he watches me.
“Something like that.” I turn toward the counter, pretending it holds interest for me as I grasp for something else meaningful to say. Vegetables are sprawled out over the surface, rice is cooking, and there’s some meat in a pan with sauce, and are… Are those herbs?
I blink. It’s possible I’m dreaming. That I’ve fallen asleep in my little closet-sized office on campus and my mind is taking wild liberties with reality. That has to be what’s happening.
“I’m sorry for the mess and using the kitchen without asking first. I just got done with a workout and shower, and I was starving. I thought maybe you and Joss would be hungry too, so I was going to cook. A thank you for giving me a place to crash. Mom’s old recipe,” he explains, looking a little sheepish.
“Oh god. You’re fine. I mean it smells amazing. And here I am being all bitchy. I didn’t know guys your age cooked, but I will take a Mama Beth recipe any day.” I smile sharply.
I wish this was a dream, that I could escape this because the awkwardness is making my skin crawl.
“Mom taught me a few things. Said it would help me survive college, and maybe impress some women on the way.” He shrugs, and his smile is gorgeous, but my eyes are drawn back to his shoulders.
This boy really needs a shirt, stat. I feel like I’d be doing so much better at this if he had a shirt on.
“She always was a great cook. How’s she doing?” I bring my eyes up to meet his, pretending I was just momentarily distracted by something over his shoulder, and not him.
“She’s good,” he says slowly. But I can tell he’s watching me carefully. Studying me.
He knew it. I knew it. He’d caught me flat out ogling him. And I have a sinking feeling he’s tucking that little nugget of information away for future amusement.
Where was Joss when I needed her? I glance at the door.
“She said she’d be back before dinner was ready. Had to run and pick something up.” He reads my mind. Hopefully, not all of it.
But Joss had known he was here and said nothing. Not a call. Not a text. What a traitor! She was going to pay for that. Netflix was going to magically disappear from the TV one night right before one of her favorite shows premiers.
“Speak of the devil and she appears!” Joss’s voice calls from the hallway as she closes the door behind her.
