Page 26 of Torin

“Good to know.”

“But if someone else is offering…”

“That’s what I thought.”

He pulls out a frying pan and sets it on the stove like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“You been here before?”

“Nope.” He lights the flame. “Why?”

“You just seem awful comfortable here.”

He tosses me a grin. “Guess I’m just comfortable in a kitchen. And they’re not rocket science. Everyone keeps the same shit in the same places.”

I shrug. “Do they?”

“Yeah. Trust me.”

I blink. I haven’t had a ton of experience of different kitchens. Just my dad’s chaos, followed by college dorm chaos.

I watch as he opens the bacon and drops it in the pan with a hiss. Then he cracks eggs into a bowl, slides them into the pan as well. He wields the spatula effortlessly.

Torin glances up and catches me looking.

Heat creeps into my face.

“You want coffee?” I ask.

A smile tugs at his mouth. “Sure.”

I turn to the coffee machine.

Professor Bennett has the same model in his office, and I’ve seen him wrestling with it enough times to figure it out. It hisses and splutters for a few seconds before deciding to cooperate.

“You take sugar?” I ask over my shoulder.

“No.”

“Milk?”

“Yeah.”

I make two mugs and hand his over.

Our fingers brush.

The same current shoots through me.

I jerk, sloshing coffee toward the rim, but Torin steadies the mug before I can drop it.

His hand stays over mine on the handle.

I look up. He’s watching me, a flicker of gold in his eyes.

“Still think that’s static?” I ask.

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Starting to have my doubts.”