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“Yeah. Bi.”
I sit with that moment and stare into my food. “You think that’s what I am?”
Coop pauses, turning to gaze at me, his eyes soft and warm, so different from his body language at the moment. “I don’t know, Matthew. That’s something only you can decide. There’s a whole list of options. You don’t need to come to terms with it now. There’s no rush.”
I peer over at him and swallow, forcing myself to finally eat. I take a few bites and it’s delicious, but I don’t really taste it. Not when I feel like my chest is caving in.
“What’s wrong?” Coop asks, and I force more food into my mouth.
Oh, so now he wants to talk. Pfft. I’m not ready to talk about it.
I mean, I do want to, but I honestly just want him to hold me.
He sighs, long and loud.
“Fuck this. Come here,” he mutters, scooting his chair back and standing up. He holds his hand out to me, and without hesitation, I link mine with his. My shoulders slump in relief and my heart steadies, a slow and steady thumping in my chest.
Fuck. It feels good to be touched.
“Let me show you what I had delivered today,” he tells me, dragging me toward the doors leading to the balcony. When we step outside, I see a large lounger, big enough to fit two people.
I glance at him and he smiles softly, leading me toward it. On the end is a blanket, soft and warm and he settles me down onto the thick cushions.
“You sit right here,” he commands as he pulls the blanket up and tucks me in under its soft warmth before wandering back inside.
I just sit, listening to the ocean crash against the beach while I wait for him. A moment later, Coop returns, our bowls of pasta in his hands.
He hands one to me before scooting in next to me, his body pressed up against mine.
“Better?” he asks, and I nod. It is better.
I feel loads better.
“Good. Now eat.”
A content sigh escapes my traitorous lips. He knows. He knows what I need and he doesn’t make fun of me. Instead, he gives me what I crave.
“And when you’re done, we can talk about what happened last night. I wanted to do it this morning, but you seemed very grumpy, and I didn’t want you to go to work like that.”
I grumble around a prawn. Well, that backfired because I was a mess all day. Of course I was grumpy. He left me all alone and cold in bed. By the time I finally rolled out of bed and sat down for breakfast, I didn’t feel like talking.
I just wanted to mope.
“Fine,” I say, and he leans into me further.
“Great. I can’t wait.”
I can. I can wait a thousand years to have this conversation. But when my bowl is scraped clean and Coop is settled behind me, his hands on my chest, I’m forced to endure it.
I’ll endure anything if he keeps touching me like this.
“Did you feel pressured last night? Did we go too far? Was it something you regret?” he finally asks.
I freeze and peer back at him, watching as his teeth work his bottom lip into a frenzy. He’s nervous, worried.
Fuck. My heart warms at his concern for me. I don’t know the last time someone was worried for me. Not even my mom.
“No. I liked it. A lot.”
