I focus back on the TV. “Or they’d all think I’m so irresistibly adorable they all want to tuck me in their back pockets.”
His chuckle makes my smile grow. He can pretend he doesn’t find this show interesting, but he watches it like he does. I can tell he’s calculating who will be voted off and who will form the alliances that’ll save them. When he leans back and spreads his leg to get comfortable, I know he’ll want to watch the next episode.
So, we do.
I wake up when something stabs me in the ribcage and sends pain shooting through my body. When my eyes open, I’m instantly met with a face full of strawberry hair tucked in the front of me, and a pointy elbow digging into my side. I wince and try not to rouse the little girl who tucked herself on the couch at some point last night. Looking over when I hear a faint sound of deep snoring, I notice Easton still perched in the chair with his face resting against the back.
We all slept in the living room.
Bladder screaming at me to empty it, I try figuring out how to get up without waking Ainsley. It’s barely light out which tells me we have time before she needs to be up, so I shift ever so slightly and practically yelp when a voice cuts through the silence. “Need help?”
Biting my lip to keep quiet, I let my tired eyes drift back to my roommate. He’s scrubbing at his hooded lids as he yawns and tips his head toward Ainsley. I just nod, watching him get up and roll his neck before walking over and carefully picking her up. He cradles her against his chest while I slide off the couch, then slowly lowers her back down and pulls a blanket up to cover her.
And I watch them with something filling my chest that I can’t decipher. Not wanting to analyze it, I escape to the bathroom to relieve myself and quickly wash my hands, run a brush through my hair, and head back downstairs to see Ainsley still sleeping soundly where Easton left her.
I listen to him make noise in the kitchen. When I walk in, he gestures toward the coffee pot which he already turned on. “Should be done in a few. Want me to cook breakfast?”
I look at him and I think, thank you.
It’s my first thought, but many more accompany it. Ones I don’t let myself ponder on as I grab a mug from the cupboard and set it on the counter. “Only if you’re having some. I know you probably want to run this morning.”
His palm reaches behind his neck and kneads at the skin. “Nah, I think I’ll take it easy today. Slept wrong and think I pulled something.”
“Here.” I walk behind him and reach up, taking over his hand and feeling the knots in his neck and shoulders. Working them out, he rolls his head forward and groans as I dig my thumbs into one of the tougher areas.
“Fuck. That feels good.”
“You were twisted when I woke up,” I note quietly, trying to get the knot to loosen. “It doesn’t surprise me you’re sore.”
He doesn’t reply, just absorbs the message I’m giving him. I don’t really think about how I shouldn’t be touching him even if it’s innocent. A friend helping a friend. Two roommates. But then he turns and looks down at me, my hands drift to work the tops of his shoulders as he watches me with dark eyes.
I let out a quiet breath as he watches me with the same intensity that weakens my knees. My heart reacts in one way, with fullness, and my body with another. He doesn’t make a move. There’s no kiss or touch or words that make this more than just me massaging his shoulders.
But the look…
He’s the first one to step back, nostrils flaring slightly. “What kind of eggs do you want? I think we still have stuff to make omelets.”
It takes me a moment to find my words, my body still searing from whatever just passed between us. “Scrambled is fine for both Ainsley and me. I can pop the toast in.”
“Bacon?”
“We’re out.”
“Want me to get some today?”
I pause, faltering on the twist tie that keeps the bread bag closed. Shaking myself out of it, I muster a smile. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
We get busy with breakfast. Me with the toast, him with the eggs. When the coffee is