Page 84 of Rare Blend
My heart practically leaps out of my chest with excitement, which evolves into pure panic. I have almost no time to make myself look presentable and tidy up the place. Scrambling, I shove anything that’s lying around out of sight, jamming it into every nook and cranny I can find. The goal is to look like I don’t live here. There cannot be any evidence of life. Thankfully, my dad was able to make room in his garage for my boxes, so at least it’s not as cluttered.
Racking my brain, I mentally cycle through my inventory of clothing. I need to wear something that’s cute and put together while simultaneously looking casual and lounge-y. My current outfit of decade-old flannel pajama pants—ripping apart at the ass seam—and a stained band T-shirt aren’t exactly presentable. Strapped for time, I decide on a pair of flared leggings with a cropped tank top and an oversize, relaxed cardigan. Hopefully, it saysI was totally already wearing this and definitely didn’t change just for you.
As I’m giving myself a quick once-over in the mirror, there’s a knock at the front door. A case of the jitters hits me. I wasn’t prepared to be this nervous. It’s Ethan. We’ve shared a motel room, we’ve kissed for crying out loud, but this feels like more. Just us two, hanging out, alone, with really no reason other than wanting each other’s company. It feels like a date. But it’s not a date, right? Because we’re friends. We’re just friends.
“Hey, come on in.”
My voice is too high. I need to calm down.Calm down, Marisa.
He walks in and holds up a bottle of wine and a box of Cheez-Its. “I brought sustenance.”
He remembered. I’m positive there’s a tinge of pink shading my cheeks right now.
“I thought you hated Cheez-Its?”
He sets the wine and box of crackers on the counter. “Oh, I do. They taste like vomit. But you like them, and I heard they pair well with Chardonnay, hence the bottle.”
Why does this feel like the nicest thing a man has ever done for me? Jesus, I’m easy to please.
“What are you going to eat?”
He opens his jacket and pulls out a bag of popcorn from the inside pocket. “Popcorn for me and vomit crackers for you, win win.”
I grab the popcorn bag from him and get it going in the microwave. I have no idea what to do, so I occupy myself in the kitchen, getting out bowls and glasses. I’m so nervous I could jump out of my skin. He walks in here with wine and Cheez-Its, and I’m ready to get down on my knees for the man. I need to get a handle on myself, and I need to do it now. We’re friends. He’s being friendly. Friends totally go out of their way to buy your favorite snack food, even if they themselves don’t like it. Right?
“It smells good in here,” Ethan comments.
My head gestures toward the vanilla candle I have burning on the coffee table. “It’s the candle. I bought it the other day at the farmers market.”
He shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. It smells like you in here. It’s nice.”
“Oh.” I giggle. If I wasn’t blushing already, I am now. “Um, thank you.” I turn away from him, opening a kitchen drawer. This is going to be a long night.
“Want to do the honors?” I ask, handing over the wine bottle opener.
He grabs the opener from me, and his hand lightly brushes against mine, causing my stomach to dip. Very, very long night.
“This is our 2013 Chardonnay. It was one of our best Chardonnay years.” He goes on to explain the tasting notes, but I can’t seem to hear him over the distraction of watching his arms twist the opener. His forearm muscles are really working at it. Somewhere between when he walked through the door and now, he slipped off his jacket. He looks practically obscene in a simple black T-shirt. I’ve never noticed a man’s arms so much in my life until I met Ethan. I think I’m developing a new obsession.
He hands me the glass, now filled with wine, pulling me out of my distracting thoughts. He’s watching me like he’s waiting to see my reaction to it, so I obey, because I’m completely weak for him, and take a sip of the wine. The cool liquid dances across my tongue, its buttery flavor lingering long after I’ve swallowed. It’s delicious, but I would expect nothing less.
“Better than the fruit juice you’re used to?” he teases, nudging his head to the crappy bottle of wine I have sitting on the counter.
“Slightly.” I smile so he knows I’m teasing him, and he shakes his head at me, walking off toward the couch with our snacks.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I say as I take a seat next to him, careful to distance myself by keeping one cushion between us. “But I may have purchased the entire season of that telenovela we started watching at the motel.”
He leans back and laughs. “Seriously?”
“See, I knew you were going to make fun of me.”
He starts swiping through his phone. “I’m not making fun of you.” He points his phone toward me, showing me the screen. “I did the same thing.”
The screen shows his online purchase of the entire first season.
Color me shocked. I thought he was just pacifying me by letting me watch it when we were in the motel. Brandon would do that in the beginning of our relationship, act like he enjoyedwatching one of my shows only to tell me he actually couldn’t stand it once we were a few months in. It’s silly really, because who cares? It’s just a TV show. Except, I guess I did. He made my interests seem stupid simply because they weren’t his. From the shows I liked to the books I read, even down to my taste in music, he thought they were all ridiculous. He wanted to make me feel small for liking things he deemed too feminine to take seriously.
“You actually liked it?”
