18. Selene
18
Selene
T he soft chime of my phone breaks the quiet of the living room. I stretch out on the couch where I’m cuddled up with Valkyrie under a blanket and swipe my phone off the coffee table. The message is from Theo, and just seeing his name pop up makes my stomach flip.
Theo: So, bad news. I ate the last of my cookies tonight. Good news? I’m bringing ingredients over to try a new recipe. Bad news? You have no choice.
A slow smile tugs at my lips, my fingers already flying across the screen.
Me: Oh, you’re that confident I’ll just let you in?
Theo: Let’s be real. I have Valkyrie on my side. She’d let me in for a shiny spoon.
I glance down at Valkyrie, who cracks one sleepy eye open as if she knows she’s being mentioned. It’s a fair point. She does have an embarrassing weakness for shiny things, and Theo’s right—she’d probably let a burglar in if they had a flashy enough treat.
Me: I’m not arguing. You’re probably her favorite person at this point.
Theo: Good. I’ll be there in twenty.
I sit up, startled.
Me: Wait, what?
Theo: Get the kitchen ready, Selene. We’ve got cookies to bake.
I stare at my phone, my pulse picking up. Twenty minutes? That’s barely enough time to process that Theo is coming over, let alone straighten up. My fingers tighten around my phone as I glance around the room, quickly fluffing pillows and folding the blanket I’d been curled up under. It’s not like this is a date or anything, but still.
Valkyrie watches me, her ears perking up as I move toward the kitchen, my stomach twisting with an anticipation I can’t quite name. “Theo’s coming,” I tell her.
She tilts her head, tail nub twitching, already excited.
By the time the knock finally comes, Valkyrie beats me to the door, her tail nub wagging enthusiastically. I grab the doorknob, but she noses it, almost knocking it open herself.
I pull it open, and there he is—standing in the glow of the porch light, arms full. A bag of groceries hangs from one arm, a bottle of wine dangles from his fingers, and in the other hand, he holds a bouquet of wildflowers.
My heart does something stupid.
Theo grins, immediately crouching to greet Valkyrie, who’s already sniffing around for anything she can claim. “Hold on, Valkyrie,” Theo says, laughing as he gently nudges her away. “Nothing shiny here for you, but I brought cookies—well, almost cookies.”
He straightens, offering me the flowers. “For you.”
For a moment, I just blink at him. Flowers. From Theo. It’s a simple gesture, but him standing there like this, easy and familiar—makes my throat tighten.
I take them, fingers brushing his, and step aside to let him in. “You really didn’t have to.”
He shrugs, moving toward the kitchen. “I figured you’d appreciate the beauty. Besides, I need to earn my keep if I’m invading your night.”
“You think flowers and cookies are enough to bribe me?” I tease, setting the bouquet in a vase on the counter.
Theo leans against the counter, holding up the bottle of wine like a trophy. “Thought we could make this a little more fun.”
I arch a brow, fighting back a smile. “Wine and cookies? I like your style.”
He steps closer, close enough that I catch the faint scent of cinnamon and coffee on his hoodie. He murmurs, his voice low, his eyes warm. “It’s a winning combination.”
And damn it, I believe him.
The lights in the room are dimmed—not to set a romantic mood, but because it feels wrong to have the overhead light on this late at night. The glow from the moon and patio lights spills softly through the windows, mixing with the flickering warmth of a few candles I lit to make the space feel cozier.
Theo moves through my kitchen with an ease that shouldn’t be so attractive but somehow is. He starts unloading his bag: flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and a dozen other things I don’t immediately recognize. His brows furrow in concentration like he’s solving some great mystery instead of making cookies.
I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with an amused smirk. “Are you sure you brought enough? It looks like we are feeding the entire town?”
He shoots me a look, completely unbothered. “Hey, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” He pauses, glancing around. “Remind me again where you hide your mixer?”
I gesture to the corner of the counter, and we fall into an easy rhythm. While he sets up, I dig out two wine glasses, pouring us each a generous amount. The music in the background shifts to a jazzy melody, smooth and rich, like the wine that’ll soon be warming my veins.
“To late-night baking adventures,” Theo says, raising his glass, his eyes glinting.
I clink mine against his, taking a slow sip. “To cookies. May they be worth all this effort.”
“They will be,” he promises, smirking. “You’ll be singing my praises by the time you take a bite.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on me before he turns back to his ingredients.
As the baking progresses, Valkyrie makes her rounds, nosing at Theo’s legs like she’s part of the quality control team. She sneaks off at one point, her jaws clamped around a stolen whisk. Theo just laughs, shaking his head as he grabs another from my drawer.
The air in the kitchen thickens—not just from the heat of the oven but from the way we keep brushing against each other, close in a way that feels effortless. We sip wine, sneak bites of cookie dough, and sway slightly to the music without meaning to.
When the cookies go in, the scent of warm sugar and chocolate fills the air, blending with the faint buzz in my head. Valkyrie gnaws happily on her stolen whisk in the corner, occasionally peeking at us like she’s making sure we’re doing everything correctly.
Then the playlist shifts. A soft, slow, and entirely too romantic drifts through the speakers. The song has a sultry tempo that begs for slow, swaying movements.
I glance at Theo. He’s leaning against the counter, wine glass in hand, watching me with a small, knowing smile.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re staring.”
“Can’t help it,” he replies, his voice dipping lower. “You’re kind of distracting.”
My stomach flips.
I try to play it off, focusing on the music instead of the warmth creeping up my neck. But Theo—of course—sees right through me. He sets his glass down and steps closer, holding out a hand.
“Dance with me.”
I blink at him. “Right now? Seriously?”
He grins, completely unfazed. “Why not? We’ve already turned this into a cookie-baking, wine-drinking date. Might as well add dancing to the list.”
Date.
The word lingers in the air between us, unspoken but impossible to ignore.
I should tell him no. Or at least pretend to hesitate. Instead, I slide my hand into his, and he pulls me in, warm and steady, his fingers resting lightly against my waist.
The music swells, and we start to sway, slow and easy, like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
“So,” Theo says, his voice low and his tone teasing. “Did I hear my girl, Taylor Swift on your playlist?”
I grin. “I added a few tracks just for you. I know what a big fan you are.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m a huge fan. I might even have all her albums on vinyl.”
“Don’t lie,” I tease, tilting my head. “You strike me as more of a man in his 1989 era.”
He suddenly spins me, catching me off guard, and making me laugh as I stumble slightly before he pulls me back in. “If I were a fan,” he muses, his hand firm against my waist, “I’d obviously be more into her folklore era. Very moody and introspective. Like me.”
“Moody and introspective, huh?” Snorting, I tilt my head, pretending to consider it, tapping my chin. “I guess I can see that.”
He smirks, his grip tightening just slightly, drawing me a fraction closer. “You guess? ”
The space between us suddenly feels very small. And the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the room that matters—makes my pulse skip.
I swallow, my voice coming out softer than I intend. “I suppose I’ll have to pay closer attention.”
His thumb brushes lightly over my waist, and my breath catches.
Somewhere in the distance, Valkyrie clatters her stolen whisk against the floor. But neither of us moves.
And for once, I don’t want to break the moment.
We sway in silence for a moment, the soft rhythm of the music filling the space between us. His hand tightens slightly on my waist, pulling me a fraction closer.
“You know,” he murmurs, his voice dipping lower, “this might be my favorite part of the night.”
I glance up at him, my breath catching at the way his gaze lingers on me. “The dancing?”
He nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “The dancing. The wine. More importantly, you.”
Before I can reply, he dips his head slightly, his forehead brushing mine. My heart pounds as I feel his breath on my skin, warm and inviting.
“You’re not terrible at this, you know,” I whisper, my voice shaky but light.
“High praise,” he murmurs back, lips quirking. “Coming from the girl who added Taylor Swift to her playlist for me. That’s a big step.”
I laugh softly, and at that moment, his lips find mine. The kiss is gentle at first, tentative like we’re testing the waters. But the moment stretches and deepens. His hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me against him, and I melt, my fingers curling into his shirt as heat pools low in my stomach.
I melt into him, my hands sliding up to rest on his chest as the music plays on, forgotten. Everything else—the sound of Valkyrie’s claws occasionally clinking against the floor, the music, the cooling wine glasses on the counter—fades away.
Gripping my hips, he puts me on the counter as he deepens the kiss stepping between my thighs.
Then—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The sharp sound of the oven timer pierces the moment, yanking us back to reality.
We both freeze, our breaths mingling, eyes locked. Theo groans softly, dropping his forehead to mine.
“The cookies. Of course.”
I laugh, breathless and giddy. “You better save them before they burn. I’m not starting over.”
Reluctantly, he steps back, running a hand through his hair as he turns toward the oven. I watch him go, my heart still racing and my lips tingling from the kiss.
Valkyrie, clearly unbothered, trots up and drops her stolen whisk at my feet like an offering.
Hopping off of the counter I clear my throat as I bend down to grab it. “Thanks for your contribution,” I mutter, setting it on the counter as Theo pulls the tray from the oven.
The look he gives me as he sets the cookies down—equal parts amused and heated—makes it painfully clear that whatever just happened between us isn’t over.
“These better be as good as you promised,” I say, trying to steady my voice.
“Try one,” he challenges, offering me a warm, gooey cookie.
I take a bite, and the rich chocolate and buttery dough practically melt on my tongue. I let out an involuntary hum of satisfaction.
Theo smirks. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Okay, fine,” I admit. “You might be a genius.”
As the night wears on and the wine glasses empty, the air between us stays charged—thick with the weight of everything unsaid.
I glance at the clock. It’s late. Too late for Theo to drive or even walk home.
“You’ve had a couple of glasses of wine,” I say, hesitating. “Why don’t you just stay here tonight? The couch is pretty comfortable, and I can grab you some blankets. I would offer my spare room but Celeste is up there sleeping.”
Theo looks at me, his expression unreadable for a beat before he smiles softly. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” I say quickly, maybe too quickly. “It’s no trouble.”
He nods, his gaze lingering on mine. “Thanks, Selene.”
I busy myself setting up the couch, fluffing the pillows like I suddenly care about them. But I can feel his eyes on me, heavy, considering. When I finally glance up, he’s still watching me.
“You could stay with me,” I say before I can think better of it. The words hang between us, weighted with meaning. I clear my throat, rushing to add, “I mean—only if you want to. Just to sleep.”
An emotion flickers across his face—one that’s dark and tempting. His jaw tenses slightly before he exhales, shaking his head with a small smile.
“Selene,” he says, voice low, dangerously soft. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
No. It’s the worst idea.
I should tell him to forget it, to take the couch and call it a night. But I don’t.
“Just sleep,” I say, my voice quieter now. “Nothing else.”
He studies me for a moment longer before nodding. “Okay.”
The walk to my room feels like it takes forever. My heartbeat is deafening, my entire body hyper-aware of him beside me.
Inside, I hesitate, watching as he pulls off his hoodie, leaving him in just a t-shirt and jeans. He runs a hand through his hair, looking at me like he’s still considering if this is the right choice.
I give him space as I walk to my ensuite to get ready for bed. I change into my favorite pajamas to give myself a confidence boost. Looking into the mirror I give myself a silent pep talk as I brush my teeth.
Steadying myself I walk back into the bedroom and climb into bed. The mattress dips beneath my weight, and then suddenly, he’s right there—warm, solid, and entirely too tempting.
He shifts onto his side and loosely draped his arm around my waist, not pulling me in but not letting me go either. His fingers brush lightly over my hip, a barely-there touch that sends a shiver down my spine.
I exhale slowly, pressing my back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
“This is torture,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice husky, rough around the edges.
I let out a breathless laugh. “I know.”
We could. God, we could. The air between us is thick with unspoken desire, the alcohol making it too easy to blur lines.
But neither of us moves. Neither of us dares.
Because we both know—not like this.
So we just lie there, tangled up in emotions neither of us is ready to name until sleep finally takes us.