Chapter 14
Fourteen
In the morning, I feel oddly self-conscious as I go about the routine I’ve developed since moving here. It’s different knowing Kingston—my host... my friend —is only a wall away. But I can’t hide out in my room all day. Besides, Jack and Pete’s barbecue is today and I’m going to give them their painting.
I let Luna out of my bedroom first, then join her in the kitchen where I pour her some breakfast before tending to my own needs. It doesn’t seem like Kingston has been up yet. Is he a late riser? We didn’t overdo it last night, but maybe he’s avoiding me.
I have eggs frying and am wrangling hot toast when he appears, shuffling from the direction of his room, scratching his beard and peering at me with bleary brown eyes.
He’s wearing old-fashioned blue and white striped pajama pants and nothing else. I’ve never seen him in so little before and my gaze skims his smooth, almost hairless chest and belly, then lower, noting the way the material folds and hangs over the bulge between his legs.
My eyes snap upward and my, “Good morning,” doesn’t come out too strangled.
“Morning,” he says, voice rough. “Too early.”
“Did I wake you? Sorry, I?—”
“No, I was up. Need to be up.” He reaches for the kettle. “Party today, right?”
“Yes.”
“You want to head over together?” Kingston asks casually and I relax. God, it’s like I don’t know how to be normal anymore.
“I have to go by my—Ivy’s. To get something for Pete and Jack.”
“You did a painting of their house, too, didn’t you?”
I nod. “It’s a surprise that it’s arriving today, though.”
“I’ll keep my lips sealed.”
“Anyway, it’s done, but the paint is still tacky. I wouldn’t want to risk Daniel’s upholstery.” And I don’t want him to accidentally see the portrait. I’m not sure how he’d react.
“All right. Meet you there, then.”
It’s more distracting than it should be to navigate around a shirtless Kingston in his kitchen, but why shouldn’t he be allowed to be comfortable in his own space? Besides, I’m the one who greeted him in a towel yesterday evening. I suppose it’s all part of cohabitating with someone I happen to find incredibly attractive.
I settle into my usual spot at the bar with my eggs and toast, while Kingston heads to the fridge and pulls out the remnants of last night’s pizza.
He’s usually so fastidious that I’m completely shocked when he pulls a piece out and starts eating it standing up next to the fridge. “What are you doing?”
He stares at me. “Eating breakfast?”
“But you’re Kingston James. I never thought I’d see Kingston James eating cold pizza for breakfast.”
“Cold pizza for breakfast is the best way to eat pizza,” he says, his eyebrows all crooked as if he thinks I’m the weird one.
“Guess I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”
“Guess you don’t,” he returns easily. “I’m not just a fussy know-it-all with impeccable taste. I’m a fussy know-it-all with impeccable taste who likes cold pizza for breakfast.”
I laugh and bite into my eggs, sending yolk running down my chin. Kingston wrinkles his nose and grabs a napkin from the counter, reaches forward and swipes it across my face.
His thumb catches on my cheek before he drops the napkin into my hand.
“And you are a mess,” he says evenly.
I clean myself up, feeling silly for the way his touch makes my heart kick up.
I definitely have a crush on him.
But we’re living together.
It’s complicated.
And I ought to be focused on my career. That’s the point of all of this, anyway. Moving out. Moving on.
So I forget about what seeing him in nothing but thin pajama pants does to me. I forget about how all I want now that he’s back is to spend time with him. I harden my shell, clean up my dishes, scratch Luna behind the ears.
“See you at the party,” I say.
“See you there.”