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thirteen

"Yeah?" I ask, lifting the carton of orange juice up and filling up a glass. 

"Yeah." 

I turn around and my breath hitches. Liam smirks, just a feet of air separating us, then looks me up and down. His brows--yes, both of them--rise and his smirk widens until it's almost a grin. "Well, okay then." His lips land on mine, catches me off-guard, and I almost drop the glass of orange juice. My lungs draw up. When we pull away, the world is tipped slightly to the side and Liam is smiling playfully, a thumb pressed to my waist. "You could've just told me, you know? I would have said yes no matter what." 

I blush, roll my eyes. Push him off because the air feels too dense with his lips hovering just millimeters above mine (stupid height difference). And plus specs of orange juice have dripped on his shirt. "Get off." 

He pouts. "Why?" 

I turn around and get the pack of bacon from the fridge. "Because I have things to do." 

"You can do me."

I conjure the most disgusted face I can, flashing it at him, then break off from our little bubble to turn the stove on. Stare at the window. If he makes five more horrible sex jokes I'm definitely getting that restraining order. I let the pan heat for a while, the phone call earlier buzzing at my thoughts. I really shouldn't think too much of it. If Liam's not worrying about it then why should I, right? But what if . . . what if he's having problems at home, too? What if his parents are fighting, or he's in a fight with his sisters? Shouldn't I be here for him? Like, not as somebody who's romantically connected to him, but as a part of his family? He is my brother's wife's cousin, after all.  

I lay strips on the skillet. 

Liam hums smoothly behind me. I turn around, frowning quizically at him. He's seated on the rotating chairs, lips cuved in a grin that's soft at the corners, elbows bent back and pressed on the countertop behind him.

"What?"

 "Nothing." He shakes his head. 

"What?" 

 "Nothing." 

 I glare. 

"Nothing, really," he says, shaking his head. His eyes are almost squinted from smiling. "I was just enjoying your, uh . . . backside." He smirks. "But then you turn around and I'm like, woah. Since when did this happen?"

Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the bacon and bite the inside of my cheeks. It's sizzling now. I take a pair of tongs from the rack and flip the strips over. "You make me uncomfortable when you get like that." 

"Like what?"

"Emotional," I say. "When you don't even need to."  

"What do you mean when I don't need to?" He hovers behind me and circles fingerpads on my hipbones, and I try not to shiver. He leans forward so his nose is directly pressed to my hair. He inhales. I can feel his smile. My toes curl. "You have no idea," he says, his face slipping beside mine and our cheeks brushing, "how long I've been wanting to do  . . . this." Then he fucking slobbers me on the cheek with the most thickly salivated lips--I can feel how the drool squishes upon contact. 

"Liam!" I elbow him, hard, and bring a hand up to wipe off the drool. I grimace. "I hate you." 

He laughs and the bacon sizzles and he kisses me on the ear. I shiver. "Don't be too quick with your words," he says. I can practically hear his grin--what with his lips being so close to my ear and all. His arms wind over my torso and bring me close, our bodies pressed together now, and I realize how I've never fully come to terms with how sturdy his body is. 

I blush. 

My eyes widen when shades of black begin forming over the strips' edges, and I immediately try to detach myself from him. He doesn't budge--damn arm muscles--but thank the heavens my arms aren't too short and I can still flip the strips. "Damn it, Liam. Let go." 

Liam just hums into my hair, all sleepy and wistful. "Comfy." 

"If you don't let go I'm breaking up with you."

"Wait," he says, "we're boyfriends now?"

God. 

"'Morni--oh." We spring away from each other so fast I almost lose my balance. Theo's standing by the doorframe, looking confusedly at us. "Are you married?"

"No, no, bud," Liam chuckles nervously. "We were just, uh . . ."

"Cooking." Lame. But whatever. Anything to fill in Theo's mind and have him wave this away. 

I look at Liam. He's smiling, reassuring Theo, but his eyes tell another story. I'm pretty sure we both don't want to be the ones telling Theo about homosexual lov--what? I mean homosexual relationships. Get your head in the game, Niall! 

Theo just shrugs and climbs on to one of the rotating chairs. He looks at the stove. Hums. "Bacon, yummmmm."

"So this is okay for you?" Liam asks. I elbow him in the ribs, glaring, and he looks at me like, what? Seriously? Theo thankfully drops it and he goes on to pick it up again? 

 "Yeah," Theo says. His brows furrow in confusion. "Why? Mommy and Daddy do it all the time."

"Oh . . . kay. Nice. That's great, bud." Liam looks at me, smug and impressed, and stoops down. I mush a hand at his face before he can reach my lips though. "But the kid said it's okay."

I roll my eyes. "He's still a kid, Liam. He doesn't need to see any more than he already did. Now go away, my bacon strips are burning."

He frowns and sulks beside Theo. "But he said he sees Greg and Cara do it all the time, anyway . . ."