There's a knock on my bedroom door a half hour later. I've cleaned off my makeup and changed into a loose fitting t-shirt and pajama shorts, currently making my way through the various surfaces in my room as I dust them. I'd wanted to get a head start on Nia's manuscript, but didn't have the heart to dive into its topic nor make the trip to the kitchen island to get it.
Luckily, I keep a pack of Swiffer dusters in the drawer of my nightstand.
When I don't respond to the knock, Seth cracks the door open, popping his head in.
I should have had him replace the knob on this door when he switched the one on the bathroom. It would have made locking him out much more effective.
"Peace offering?" he says, lifting a plate of grilled cheese through the doorway.
Its enticing aroma drifts into my room, seducing me. My tummy growls. I'm starving since the appetizers at The Latehouse are inedible, but I'm still enraged with him.
I slam my duster onto my nightstand. "You are the most infuriating person I've ever known."
"C'mon. I used Gruyere." His eyes shine, he's all smiley and adorable. It makes me want to karate chop him in the penis. Especially since Gruyere is my favorite cheese and he knows it.
"That's not fighting fair."
He shrugs. "Maybe not, but you know you want it anyway. It'll be out here when you're ready."
I stare at the empty crack he leaves open in the doorway, debating whether he deserves any degree of civility right now. My stomach lets out another growl. With a snarl, I head to the common area.
I don't say a word as I sit in the middle island stool and take a bite of my sandwich.
He's standing on the opposite side, watching me. I have the massive urge to give him the middle finger but withstand so I can shove another bite into my mouth.
After a few minutes of silence pass and I've finished the first half of my sandwich, Seth's eyes go soft with something I can't quite place. "I like you better like this."
I lift up the second half of the grilled cheese and take another bite, making sure to rudely chew through my words. "Baggy and homely?"
"Stripped down," he corrects. "The make-up and the dress, it wasn't you."
I set down my sandwich and release a sigh. "I don't understand you sometimes."
"What's not to understand?"
Everything. It's like he's perfected the art of twisting me around until I'm dizzy. How can he be such a gigantic ass one minute, give me lusty eyes the next, say remarkably sweet things immediately after, follow it up with the way he's looking at me now, and remain firm in his stance we're just friends?
So I sum it all up in a single sentence. "Friends don't cock block friends, Seth."
"Ellie-"
"No, don't Ellie me. I've never once cock blocked you."
He holds up his hands. "In my defense, I've never brought anyone back here."
"Doesn't mean you're not hooking up with girls at their places. And if I was around there, I wouldn't cock block."
I frown at him, wishing he was a better friend or, even better, that he wasn't so confusing all the time. He's disappointed me and after his pathetic show tonight I hate feeling this way after being supportive of his secrets.
When I lower my hands to pick up my sandwich again, he says, "He was a coke addict."
I shake my head. "Not a chance."
"He was." His voice is soft, apologetic even. "His collar was drenched in sweat, his eyes were bloodshot, and his fingers were twitching against his pants. All are dead giveaways."
Brett had used the bathroom right before we left. Our conversation had flown swiftly at the bar because he'd done most of the talking for me, but I'd assumed it was due to his self-confidence. And he'd been fidgety all evening. I just hadn't noticed because I'd been too blinded by my goal of getting him into bed.
The thought is bitter and-dammit. It was so much easier being cross with Seth before he morally cock-blocked me.
"I liked you better before I knew you were a crime lord's attack thug." Setting my elbows on the table, I throw my head into the palms of my hands.
He ignores my dig. "So instead of getting all huffy and puffy, you should be thanking me."
He's gloating now, his apologetic undertone nowhere to be found, and it reminds me I'm still irritated with him. I lift my face. "Sure, just come on over and I'll pucker my lips."
Recognition dawns the same time his gaze lowers to my mouth. "So that's what this is about."
"No."
He snickers his skepticism, his gaze lingering.
"Alright, a little," I admit, lifting my chin. "Look, I know I'm supposed to be the 'cool girl' who's okay with some meaningless kiss, but I'm not. My brain works too hard to let something like that go. I overanalyze everything. And for the past week and a half I've been trying to wrap my head around why you would do it after we're both trying so hard not to ruin this friendship."
"I was curious and wanted to try it out." Although he shrugs in nonchalance, his focus remains locked on my lips. Then he winks. "You exceeded expectations by the way."
It's like smashing my head into a brick wall.
"I wasn't aware I was being judged."
"Lighten up. It was just a kiss." He leans across the table to link his fingers through mine. A few breadcrumbs catch between them, but he doesn't seem to care. "I do stupid shit sometimes."
Well that's an understatement and a half. "I know."
His eyes link with mine, a sea of endless sorrow. "I'm sorry if I stepped over boundaries and made it seem like this friendship of ours isn't important. It is. I'm still trying to figure out how it works."
I want to tell him he smashed through those boundaries and sparked this persistent hunger inside me that can't be satisfied. That Brett had been a silly attempt at a substitute for the person I truly want on top of me. But I can't. Not when the kiss meant far less to him than maintaining a healthy friendship.
And as dissatisfying as the situation is, I get it. Relationships swell and soar before they potentially come crashing down. They're messy and unpredictable. They break apart quicker than they're built and although every piece of me wants to build something with Seth, I don't want us to meet that fate. I just want him to be around. Same as he does with me.
"Just don't kiss me again," I say.
"Your lips are officially off limits." His hand remains interlocked with mine, a representation of our pact-neither of us is letting go, even when the other stumbles. It makes forgiveness easier.
I'm the first to break the contact because despite the drama, there's something I'm eager to see.
"Can I check out my gun?"
He throws his hand over his heart and closes his eyes. "Dear God, I think that's the hottest thing you've ever said to me." Reopening them, he throws up his pointer finger. "Can you hold that thought for a second while I go jerk off?"
I glare at him.
"What? I agreed to not kissing you. Asinine flirtation is still on the table."
"Without it you'd be mute."
"And what a bore that would be."
He laughs, walking to the coffee table to retrieve my gun. When he sets it in the palm of my outstretched hand, my eyes widen in wonder.
"You got me a pink gun." My inner pre-teen wants to hug it against my chest like it's a mystical fluffy unicorn.
"Coral," he corrects, pleased with himself.
I should let him have this moment. He put a lot of effort into getting me a gun in my favorite color, but I can't resist. "It's pink."
He shakes his head. "I don't understand you women and colors."
"It's a complicated matter. One you'd understand if you owned anything that wasn't brown, blue, or your favorite, black."
"You don't mess with what works."
He's scrunched down, studying my reaction to the gift he's given me. His enthusiasm is contagious. I'm appreciative and don't want to spoil the moment, but I can't resist...
"It's stolen, isn't it?"
He stands and rubs his jaw. "Don't ask question you don't want answers to."
I sigh, disappointed. After only a few days he's reverted back to one of his old tactics. "What happened to a fresh start?"
"I didn't hurt anyone to get it. That's a start. The rest is a learning curve."
As he makes a curving motion with his hand, I shake my head, failing to hide my amusement. Since he didn't beat anyone to get the thing and neither of us can afford it the proper way, I'll let him off easy this time. Still, I hope he makes a better effort in the future.
"Learn quicker."
"Don't give me that look. You needed protection when I'm not around and now you have it. Once I teach you how to use the thing, I'll sleep better at night."
"Good. Because in case you forgot, the walls are thin, and you don't exactly listen to the television at a reasonable volume."
"I like to feel what I'm watching," he says, as if this justifies keeping me up until three am every night.
"Well, tonight you'll be feeling Sex and the City." Seth's brows rise at my accidental sexual innuendo, before I backtrack, cheeks flaming. "Not literally, of course, but-" I remember he'd said he was leaving earlier. "Crap, maybe you will be. Weren't you going somewhere?"
My throat tightens as I consider him with another woman, but I swallow it away, internally repeating the word 'friend'.
"You think I'm meeting a chick?" Amusement dances beneath his lashes.
I tilt my chin in the air. "I wouldn't cock block you if you were."
"You're a better friend than I am." He demonstrates this by taking a bite of the remaining half of my sandwich. "One of the guys at work is throwing a party tonight and since you weren't home I figured I'd check it out. But I called him while you were throwing a hissy fit in your room and passed."
So he blew off the party because he wanted to patch things up with me? The realization heats my skin. But just because I'm home, doesn't mean he needs to stay. I'm a grown woman and am perfectly capable of watching my favorite show alone.
"You don't have to become a hermit because of me, you know? Go on-" I flick my hand, "-go to the party."
"Nah. I'm right where I want to be."
I'd be lying if I said those words didn't curl around me like soft silk. But I play it cool. "Standing and watching me eat grilled cheese?"
"What can I say? You do wicked things with those lips I'm not allowed to touch."
I set the gun down onto the island and make a show of shoving the remaining half of the sandwich into my mouth. With chunks sticking out because the sandwich was bigger than I realized, he grins. He also takes it upon himself to shove it the rest of the way in for me. His fingers never once touch my lips. And as I gag, he laughs.
"Sexy." He picks up the gun from the countertop, placing it back into the case, closing the clasps. "Now clean that dish and get your ass over to the couch. I want to watch Sex and the City with my girl."
I know from the way 'my girl' ignites my blood that I'm in deeper than I should be. Seth can piss me off, drive me crazy, and spin my head in circles; however, he's also the cure settling it all down. I'm uncertain if that's a good thing or not, but as I clean my plate and settle beside him on our couch, I realize I'm tired of trying to figure this thing out. I'm right where I want to be, too, and it's where I'm going to stay.
I just need to stock up on more batteries.