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"Jayden, you should've seen the other guy's face," he says, chuckling, his ice-blue eyes crinkling at the edges. His laugh is deep and infectious, making me laugh too.
"Ryder, I swear, you're full of it," I tease and nudge his side with my elbow. The neon lights overhead shine on his silver-flecked hair, and it feels like the rest of the bustling bar fades away, leaving just the two of us in our little bubble.
I catch him staring at me, something tender flickering in his gaze. My heart does a funny little skip—no. It’s not just funny; it’s terrifying because it's right then, that I realize I'm having real feelings for Ryder.
"Your smile, Jayen," he murmurs, almost to himself. "It's like it knows how to flip all the right switches inside me."
"Ryder, stop, you'll make me blush," I joke. I look away, feigning interest in a nearby game on the TV, but my mind is reeling.
"Wouldn't dream of it." His tone low, threaded with a hint of desire.
"Hey, why don't you come over to my place when you have time for dinner?" I blurt out, trying to sound casual. "I make a mean spaghetti carbonara."
Ryder leans back, and for a second, I worry he'll say no. "Come to my place instead," he suggests, and that one sentence sends ripples through the little fantasy world I've been building in my head.
"Your place?" I repeat. “The Man Cave with all your roommates? Umm…”
"First off, I only have two roommates since Asher moved out. Only Dakota and Kaleb are there now. Plus, it’s a six-bedroom house, so there’s a great possibility you won’t even see them." He nods with an intense gaze. "It's quieter. We can talk."
"Talk," I echo, my mind spinning. This isn't just a staged date for the sake of appearances. This feels like a step across the threshold into something undeniably real. Who am I kidding, I think we’ve already crossed that line the moment he filled me up with his cock.
"Is that okay with you?" His voice pulls me back from my thoughts.
"Yes, yes, of course," I assure him.
"Great." He grins. "It's a date then."
"A date." The word feels heavy and light all at once, these plans feel even more defined than just two friends going to a movie. Although, there was nothing happening during that movie that would put either of up deep in the friend zone.
***
Mine and Ryder’s schedules have conflicted for a week, but finally, I'm now balancing the sacks of fresh produce and spices in my arms as I try to ring Ryder's doorbell with my elbow. The door swings open, and I step inside.
"Hey, you made it," Ryder says. He takes a sack from me.
"Couldn't miss a chance to show off my culinary skills," I tease, placing the rest of the groceries on his granite countertop.
"Looking forward to it." His eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches me unpack bundles of basil and ripe tomatoes.
The kitchen is spacious, sunlight spilling in from the windows overlooking the beach. It feels lived-in, personal. The Man Cave suddenly seems less like a myth and more like a home.
"Where do you want me to start?" Ryder asks, rolling up the long sleeves of his charcoal tee, revealing forearms that have definitely seen their share of weights in the gym.
"Chop these," I say, sliding a cutting board and knife his way along with an onion.
"Got it, chef." He grins, making me laugh.
As I heat the pan, drizzling olive oil and letting it warm, the silence isn't awkward; it's comfortable. "So," I begin, stirring garlic into the sizzling oil, "tell me about your family."
"Ah, the Sommers Inquisition," he jokes, but obliges. "Well, I have four stepbrothers… that I know about, but none of us talk much. There’s probably more siblings out there in the world that my dad was a sperm donor for that I don’t even know about."
"Oh…" Is the only thing I can think of to say.
"It’s fine. See, I told you, my childhood was not the ideal happy go lucky kind," he replies with a shrug and goes back to working on his food prep task.
"Your turn," he says, sliding the chopped onions into the pan where they join the garlic dance.
"There’s only Sophie. She’s my younger sister, who is still in high school," I offer, stirring the concoction. "As for home life, I spent more time in the kitchen with mom than playing outside. She always said food was love, and I guess I took it to heart."
