Starts with a Match

Be Cool, Be Cool, Be Cool

This is all new to me.

Okay, not new, new; I've flirted, dated, messed around with people before, been there, done that. Shit did all that sex stuff and—and then some, I guess.

I mean. Peter Craig changed my fucking life with the blow job that ended in my receiving and him giving me, like, his all. I don't the right words for it—Catherine Teal and Mr. Brooks did it in book five, and that had me taking a cold shower after, holy fuck. Life altering. Good God. Flashbacks to Peter fucking Craig.

But him and I didn't even date. Hardly kissed before, sure didn't kiss after.

I wanna kiss Toby. Before, during, after, for the rest of my life.

I want to do this right.

And they didn't seem to notice how both my hands ended up on their legs two days ago during our 'wrestling' match on the sofa. Or, maybe they noticed, but they didn't mind. Either way, now they kind of keep checking me out, like, eyes from my head to my toes to who knows wherever else while I have my back turned, cleaning the apartment.

Maybe I put on a muscle tank just to mop, maybe I walk around with my jeans a little lower on my hips and unbuttoned on purpose. Maybe not.

So I test the waters.

Toby's in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove making enchiladas and homemade tortilla chips and salsa. Don and Gracie are coming over in an hour; guess Toby and her have some spouse stuff to discuss before the next event tomorrow, Monday morning.

And Don seems to like hanging around me more often these days. I didn't think he would, not after what happened in Montana. I'm pleasantly surprised that he seems to want to be my friend.

I need sugar for the lemonade I'm mixing. The cabinet that holds the sugar and spices is over Toby's left shoulder.

I debate using two fingertips, three, or my palm. Then I just go for it with my whole hand on their waist, and I move them just an inch to the side so I can better reach the sugar. Completely necessary.

"Am I in your way?" Toby asks. Like I read their mind, I move to the right as they do, and they bump their back into my chest. They turn and look up at me. I smile and shake the thing of sugar.

"No I got it. Thanks."

Toby nods and leans left just as I happen to lean left, and I let the heat of them simmer into my shirt for just a blink before my mission is complete and I turn back to my lemonade.

Holy tits, that was terrifying.

"Here—"

"What?" I sound like I got kicked in the balls.

A spoon appears at my side, held by Toby, other hand cupping beneath it. "Too spicy? Not spicy enough?"

I take the spoon from them to try it, and cause I'm not a coward, I only choke a little. "Um...s'good."

Toby chuckles and takes the spoon, going back to the stove.

"You sure? Your voice like uh—went a little high," they tease, raising their own like a mouse. Sounds about right.

"Your food's a little spicy," I reply with a squeak of my own. I get a nice, loud laugh, and I grin and mix too much sugar in the lemonade. Hot tex-mex and acidic drink. We're gonna destroy our intestines. Sorry Don and Gracie.

I decide I want to put the sugar back. Cause I'm a good roommate who cleans up after himself.

I turn back and it's perfect; Toby's standing right in front of the spices, looking through them. Don't even care that they're probably about to add more, I'll suffer through any kind of stomach-lining destruction they're cooking.

I do a shuffle dance behind them, squeezing one hand in thought, tapping my finger to the sugar container. I decide to do a two-fer.

Putting my left hand to their arm, I pull my right arm up with the sugar to put it back in place, successfully closing in around them. Their entire form fits inside my chest. Toby looks left, right, then peeks up at me, and the back of their head taps to my collarbone. I smile down at them. "Hi."

Toby grins. "Well, hello there."

"Putting the sugar up," I tell them, in case it's not evident, as I still have my hand around the sugar, and I'm still putting it on the shelf, still taking my sweet ass time.

Toby's eyes flash to the cabinet, then back to me. "I can see that," they chuckle.

I nod and start to overheat from a thousand different elements, mostly Toby, and I step away.

Don't get six inches before Toby's turned around and has a hand on my waist and the table flips just like that. All my cool, out the window.

"Where you going?" they ask, quietly. Too quiet.

"I gotta uh...n-need. I need more flavor for the lemonade—too bland." I'm not even near the flavor packs. They're in the pantry, and that's across the kitchen. I'm trapped by a single hand on my side.

They have too much power.

"Is it?" Toby muses, glancing around my arm. They hum and step me back, back, until my ass hits the counter, and they're standing between my feet, and I was all hot shit and fancy hands and now I'm losing my mind.

They reach for the spoon I was mixing with and dip it into the jug, bringing it up to their mouth. They give a light lip smack after they taste it, squinting one eye. "I think you added too much sugar."

"No, I didn't," I scoff. I know nothing of lemonade, it's entirely possible.

Toby gets a new spoon and drops it in. Then, like an absolute lunatic, instead of offering me the spoon, they dip their finger into the spoon and raise that up to my mouth. I'm salivating. "Try it yourself, Koop," they reply. Their eyes are smiling.

Two can play at that game. Though, I have no idea what the game is, I have no clue about the rules, and I'm way out of my element here. I give it my best attempt anyway.

Taking their wrist, I bring their finger up to my lips and suck on it. A little glint of 'oh shit, I fucked up' flashes over their smirk. "Hmm...no. I think it's good."

Their eyes lower once, twice, and their lashes flutter. "Do you?"

I breathe out, "Yeah," and don't bother to replace the air in my lungs as their eyes drop a third time and linger.

Toby's timer for taking out the chips goes off for five long beeps, and I release their wrist, letting them go back to retrieve them before we burn the house down.

Then they keep their back to me, no further conversation as they fix up the salsa, and I rush to the bathroom to drown my face in ice cold water. Don and Gracie are coming over. Now is not the time.