eyes down, she sawed her teeth over her bottom lip and said, "I did."
11
Zelda
It was true.
What they said.
About shoes. And feet.
And penises.
It was all true.
For the hundredth time in ten minutes, I stole a glimpse at Ash over the laptop's screen, my cheeks flaming hot enough to sear a scallop. Seated at the other end of the dining table, he was studying something on his tablet while simultaneously keying numbers into the battered old calculator at his side and then frowning at the readout. Always frowning. That little TI-whatever from eleventh grade trigonometry was pissing him off.
It was so freaking true.
I hadn't intended to get a faceful of naked. I had not. But I'd heard noises—things falling—and my first instinct was to verify Ash was unharmed. While I knew he was showering when I'd heard those noises, my run-and-check-on-Ash thought process hadn't accounted for him also being naked and wet.
The wet part really pushed matters over the edge. Not the muscular grooves cut into his torso. Not the Coppertone-baby-inspired tan line. Not even the shaft that proved the best of the urban legends.
Not that I'd gotten a good look at it. The tan line. Of course, the tan line. What else would I not look at?
"Hey. Zelda. What's up?"
"What?" I leaned back in my chair and blinked up at him. "Nothing." Grabbed for the pen at my side, pressed it between my palms. "I didn't say anything."
Getting caught noodling over memories of my boss in the shower while extremely wet and naked was much like burning yourself with a curling iron. You knew the blazing hot fire wand was thiiiiiis close to your face but you were too busy shaping your tousled waves to realize and now you had your very own Harry Potter scar. Ten points to Gryffindor.
"I didn't…" He tipped his head as if seeing me from a different angle would help. He could stop right there because I knew it wouldn't. Then, he chuckled. "How's my calendar looking?"
I glanced down at the screen. It was a rainbow of overcommitment. "If you were hoping this week would be the one you make time for a new hobby, I have bad news for you."
He shook his head, allowing himself another low laugh. "I haven't had time for hobbies since I was fourteen."
I set the pen down, folded my arms on the table. "What happened when you were fourteen?"
"Nothing happened," he drawled. "I just—I don't know, it was high school. I was taking a full course load and I had a job and—"
"And the first thing to go was fun," I said. "Yeah, Ashville. I can see that being one of your moves."
"It wasn't a move," he argued. "It's growing up. People do that all the time, Zelda."
"Sure, they do," I replied. "You're not one of them."
He glared at the ceiling, sighed, and asked, "What the hell are you trying to say?"
"That you were an adult the minute you were born," I replied. "Call it being an old soul or whatever you want but you grew up at birth. I'm sure of it." I gestured toward him. "What was the hobby you gave up at fourteen?"
His brows shot up and any semblance of a smile he might've had fell. He studied his tablet for a moment before asking, "How's the inbox?"
Finding Ash's sore spots was almost as fascinating as finding the sweet spots. He was sensitive in the most delightful and unexpected—and telling—ways. He didn't like being wrong and he hated losing control but more than that, he didn't want to be found lacking. Somewhere along the way, someone told Ash he wasn't good enough and he'd never been able to shake that.
Probably because nosy people like me kept poking that sore spot and driving it deeper into his soft tissue. I hadn't meant to nudge him where it hurt. If anything, I wanted to find another one of those sweet spots. Just as I was certain he was an old soul in a pleasantly young and virile body, I was also certain he'd rest his head in my lap and fall asleep while I ran my fingers through his hair.
He was starved for affection. I was starved to give it. And I liked him. Oh, hell, did I like him. He was fucked-up in the best ways. He was an egomaniac and couldn't imagine a world where anyone was smarter or better or more competent than him. He didn't know how to ask for help and he was liable