Page 35 of Ablaze

I look up at him when he puts me down on my feet, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, my eyes fill on their own. I punch his arm and he feigns being hurt. Two weeks is a long time to be absent when you’ve seen or talked to someone almost daily.

“Jerk,” I chide in a wobbly voice.

His smile wavers as his hand comes up as if to cup my face, but he stops himself, putting it back down to his side. “I’m sorry, Mala.”

So, I was right. He was purposely avoiding me, which is why he’s apologizing now.

He looks around the café, likely noting that there aren’t many customers at the moment, before gesturing toward the doors to the kitchen in the back with a tilt of his head. “Can we talk?”

Without thinking too much about it, I grab his hand and drag him behind me, through the double doors, before crossing my arms across my chest. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He lets out a sigh before running his hand over his face. His blue eyes plead guilty. “I just . . . I needed a minute, Mala.”

I slant my head. “That was a lot longer than a minute. It’s been two weeks since I saw you. You’re usually blowing up my phone because you can’t keep your trap shut, but aside from a text here or there, I’ve honestly wondered if you even remembered me.” I stab him with my index finger. “That’s not how best friends act. How could you be mad at me for that long?”

He gives me his stupid crooked smile that I both want to slap off and kis– It drops off his face when he grabs my hand and sees the mix of emotion in my eyes. “You missed me.”

“Yes, you big dummy! I missed you. Didn’t you miss me?”

Letting go of my hand, he encircles my neck with his large palm. His thumb caresses the bottom of my jaw. “You have no idea.”

My eyes bounce between his. “Then why did I feel like there was distance between us?”

He closes his eyes before focusing on me again. “I just needed a minute, Mala. That’s all. I needed to clear my head. Please . . .” He strokes my jaw with his thumb again. “Don’t be mad at me. I can’t fucking take it.”

I furrow my brows even though I lean into his touch. My mind and heart battling to have it out with him–to ask him why he abandoned me for two weeks, or why he can be mad at me for that long, but I’m not allowed to be–but I let it go. “Are we okay now?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, we’re okay. I told you that day, remember? This is forever.”

I smile. “You never answered my text about tomorrow. Are you coming for movie madness? You still owe me Titanic.”

His hand drops from my face, and he looks to the side before our gazes tangle again. “Just the same crew . . .?”

I know what he’s asking–whether Warren will be there. “Yes, just us.”

He responds with, “Yeah, I’ll be there,” right when the doors to the kitchen swing open.

Warren looks from Dean to me, striding inside with a smile. With his dark hair perfectly combed back, his suit and tie hugging his well-toned physique, he looks out of place in my messy kitchen. “Hey, gorgeous!”

Heat travels to my cheeks and I smile at him, praying that the strange tension twisting my gut will abate. “Hi! What are you doing here? I thought you had that open-house until late afternoon.”

His hands wrap around my waist when he gets closer before his lips find my temple. “It ended early.” Warren turns to Dean, who’s taking him in with a hard gaze and tight jaw. I don’t miss the way Dean’s eyes flick from where Warren’s hands lay on my waist possessively back to his face. “And who might this be?”

Tugging the collar of my sweatshirt up, I clear my throat unnecessarily, feeling the tips of my ears heat. I’m positive they’d be red if I viewed them in the mirror. “Warren, this is my best friend, Dean.” I smile wider than required. “Dean, this is Warren.”

Warren offers his hand to Dean. “I’ve heard a lot about you, man. It’s good to finally meet in person.”

Dean throws a glance at me before taking Warren’s hand, and only I can tell how reluctantly he accepts the handshake. “Likewise.” Pulling his hand away rather quickly, Dean turns to me. “Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, sprinkles? Text me if you need me to pick up anything.”

He’s rushing out so fast, I barely get a chance to call out to him, “I have a box of those pumpkin treats–er, cookies–for you at the front. Make sure to grab it.”

Dean pauses at the double doors before he leaves, and my heart feels like it’s galloping inside my chest. That was . . . difficult, but I suppose it went better than I expected.

My thoughts are interrupted when Warren turns me so I’m facing him, pulling my arms around his neck. “So, sprinkles, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, it’s just something he’s called me for a while.”

Warren nods. “Okay. What’s happening tomorrow?”

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