“Xander?”
“Hey, Trillian,” I finally say.
She opens the door wider. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”
I step inside and she closes the door behind me. I smell something delicious and sweet.
“What did you want to do tonight?” she asks as we walk side by side into a large kitchen. She stands next to the oven while I stare at her ass as she bends over to open it.
“What would you normally be doing tonight?” I ask, wanting to know more about her.
She straightens and turns to me. “Nothing much. Studying, probably. Or reading. Or baking.”
I glance down at the oven. “What are you baking?”
She grins and I notice a dimple in her right cheek. Christ, she’s fuckin’ cute.
“Cupcakes. Have a seat.”
I move to the table and take a seat.
“Can I get you something to drink or eat?” she asks as she watches me.
Fuck, she’s sweet.
“I’m okay, thanks. I thought we could maybe grab some dinner somewhere,” I say. I haven’t eaten anything since Zach and I had pizza for lunch.
“Okay, sounds good,” she replies. “I’ll just finish the cupcakes and then we can go.”
I nod. I want to address what happened last night, but know there isn’t a way to speak about it without the two of us admitting what is going on in our heads. I don’t think I’m ready for that, and I have no idea how she feels. She’s just a gorgeous, decent, sweet nice girl, and for all I know, she could be like this with everyone. Still, I’m drawn to her. I don’t know why, but I am.
“Who are the cupcakes for?” I find myself asking. “They smell good.”
She blushes. “They’re not for anyone exactly. I just felt like baking. Zach always comes over and eats them or my friend April. Grim drops by every now and again, too.”
I don’t know what she’s blushing over exactly, but I smile at her in an attempt to make her more comfortable around me.
“You can eat one from my first batch,” she says, watching me expectantly.
I pick up one and take a big bite.
“It’s good,” I say, moaning softly. “Really good.”
I don’t know if it tastes so good just because I know she made it, but either way, it just melts in my mouth. Vanilla with choc chips. I approve.
“Thanks,” she says, ducking her head. “They’re easy enough to make. Anyone could do it.”
“I doubt anyone could,” I tell her. “Especially this good.”
She glances up and smiles. It hits me straight in the chest.
I don’t know why, but I want her to like me even though nothing can ever come of it.
What the hell am I doing here? She knows I left with that chick last night. What must she think of me?
I want her to see who I really am.
Why?
I have no idea.
Chapter Six
Trillian
He’s standing in my kitchen.
When it hit seven p.m. with no contact from Zach or Xander, I thought for sure they had changed their plans, yet here he is. He looks good wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt that fits him just right. I stare at his tattoos for a second, mesmerised by the intricate art.
“Do you have any tattoos?” he asks suddenly, having caught me staring.
I look down at my French manicured nails and shake my head. “No, no tattoos.”
I do have a belly ring, though, that I got on my eighteenth birthday, which I think is quite pretty. The timer on the oven goes off, so I turn the oven off and pull out the cupcakes.
“Do you need any help?” he asks, walking over to me. “Or will I ruin the masterpieces if I try?”
My lip curls up at that. “They are easy enough. I’m just going to put some icing and sprinkles on these ones as soon as they’ve cooled down a little.”
We wait and I get him a drink.
“Nice place you have here,” he says before he takes a sip of his soda.
I look around. “Thanks. I don’t like clutter, which is why it’s kind of bare.”
And white. Everything was white. My dad liked it that way, and so did I.
“I like it,” he murmurs and then takes another sip. I watch his throat work as he swallows. “You have good taste.”
“Thank you,” I reply, smiling shyly.
When ten minutes passes, he washes his hands in the sink then comes to stand next to me, our shoulders almost touching. Xander is tall, so I have to lift my head up to look at his face. I’m about five-six, so he must be well over six foot. I pass him the icing tube and watch as he carefully swirls icing onto one of the cupcakes, his forehead scrunching in concentration. When he’s done, I hand him the sprinkles and let him finish off the cupcake. Then we both work together, decorating all twelve of them as we see fit.
“I don’t think this was how you expected your evening to go,” I say, my eyes on the cupcake he is icing. He is never going to come to my house again, that’s for damn sure.
But he just smiles. “I like watching you do this. I can tell you love it. You seem to be in your element.”
“I do love it,” I admit, glancing up at him. “Plus, it keeps me busy.”
“I’m sorry about your dad,” he suddenly says, lifting his hand up and brushing his fingers across my cheek.
“Zach told you about that, huh?” I say, repeating his words from last night. I shiver from his simple touch, from his close proximity. He smells so good, like leather mixed with soap.