Page 94 of Trust Me

“Guilty. Am I getting a bite or what?”

He held a spoon out to me. I could’ve grabbed it, but instead, I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around it. His hand shook a little, and I met his eyes.

Pulling the spoon back, he laughed. “You’re fucking weird.”

“I saved your eyes from amputation. Be nice to me.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will.”

I shoved his chest, which just made him do the same. After stumbling for a second, I grabbed the hand towel off of the counter and rolled it up. His eyes widened, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid a strike to the calf.

“Shit!” he shouted.

He grabbed the end of the towel, starting a rough game of tug-of-war that got us dangerously close to destroying the kitchen. When I released my end, he crashed into the wall, but it didn’t give me enough time to get away. I was barely in the living room when I felt the crack against my side. As I whirled around, I lost my balance and fell on my ass, which made him wheeze.

Hanging my head, I leaned back on my hands while I caught my breath. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Thought you liked those.”

My head snapped up. Cocking it, I tried to read his expression. The humor on his face faltered, and since I didn’t want to make it awkward, I forced a laugh. “I’m done with you, Broku.”

“I’m still waiting to hear if the food sucks,” Remi said.

Looking at him, I found him staring at his phone.

“It’s fantastic,” I replied, “but don’t tell Dean.”

Turning back to the chef, I winked. The way his cheeks pinked made me smile. As if he was a demure teenager, he awkwardly turned around and headed back into the kitchen.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Remi asked.

If only I knew.