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She laughs, lightening the mood. She pulls off the hoodie, and for a second my heart clenches, imagining seeing her smooth, glowing skin and her perky tits fully exposed when she pulls the garment over her head; but, of course, she has a shirt on underneath. I trade her shitty ex’s hoodie for my own, and my male ego hums when she spears her arms into my sweater and zips it up.
“As for this.” I hold up the black hoodie demonstratively, then walk to the trash can in the kitchen where I shove it deep down. I dust off my hands in satisfaction.
“Hm,” Summer hums, crossing her arms to rub her hands on the sleeves of my hoodie. “This is comfy.”
A bright feeling beats in my chest. Summer’s comfy wearing my hoodie. Way comfier than that ratty mess of fabric she had from Sean, I bet. I’m glad that I just shoved that thing where it belongs.
The pasta doesn’t take long to boil. We sit at the table and eat together. Our conversation settles into a lull as we eat, but it’s a comfortable lull. A pleasant silence. Eating like this with Summer, alone, snug in her house while the wind and rain beat on the walls and roof from the outside … I like it.
I wish we could have more nights like this. We can’t. We shouldn’t. But I wish.
After we’re finished, Summer tries to reach for my plate, but I pull it back. “Let me do the dishes.” I grab her plate and I’m on my feet, walking towards the kitchen sink before she can protest.
“I’ll help,” she says, hot on my heels.
“No,” I insist. Then, a thought occurs to me. A really fucking good thought. I spin around in front of the sink, facing her. “Play for me while I clean up.”
“Play?”
“Your violin.”
Her lips curl at my request. If you could hear a smile, I know for a fact that Summer Andrews’ would sound just as beautiful as the melodies she brings to life on her violin strings.
Summer sits on the couch and plays a simple, upbeat melody while I wash the dishes. Now this feels good. Summer in the living room, making beautiful music, while I clean up in the kitchen.
I don’t want this moment to end. I scrub slow. Hell, I might as well give each dish an extra scrub and rinse. Especially the saucepan. Easy for a little spot of sauce to hide somewhere at the bottom. I don’t overlook a square centimeter, and by the time I finish, these are no doubt the cleanest dishes in all of Cedar Shade, Vermont.
“You always that thorough when doing dishes?” Summer asks me with a knowing look in her eyes.
I shrug. “I’m fastidious.”
She giggles. “Those books I’ve been recommending must be paying off with that vocabulary.”
I sit on the couch next to her. She scoots closer to me, just slightly, but it’s enough to make the air between us crackle with heat.
I should tell her I’m tired. Lie and say I always try to get to sleep by eight at night during the season, which starts with an away game tomorrow evening. She’ll go up to her room and I’ll lie with my legs dangled over this couch. That’s what I should do.
Instead, I reach for the remote on the coffee table in front of us. “Want to watch something?”
“Sure. You know what I’ve actually never watched?”
“What?”
“Friends.”
“Me neither.”
She pokes me in the side, making my lips twitch. “What a surprise,” she teases.
“Should we lose our Friends virginity together?” I ask.
Summer blinks twice silently before bursting out in laughter. I can feel her shaking against my side. It feels way too fucking good. “Let’s do it.”
I try to focus on the first episode, but it’s hard, because every time there’s a joke that makes Summer laugh, not only do I close my eyes to focus on the enchanting sound, but the shakes of her laughter seem to move her closet towards me on the couch.
When the first episode ends and I click to play the second episode, she snuggles closer.
I absolutely should not wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her flush against me.
