Chapter 11 Nora #2
‘Oh yeah?’
‘I mean, I can cook basic things, but that’s mainly because I’m a basic eater. I’m easily satisfied.’
He pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looking like he enjoyed that comment more than he should. ‘Easily satisfied, hey?’
I roll my eyes. ‘What can I say, I’m vanilla.’
He pauses, tilting his head as he assesses me. ‘You don’t seem very vanilla to me, Vixen.’
‘Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,’ I tease.
‘Promise?’ he grins.
I laugh softly, shaking my head. I’ve never had these kinds of conversations with a guy before, and I love it. I feel like I can be my true self around Zayden and honestly, I don’t feel like that very often.
‘So – I have a plan for the day,’ I announce.
‘Of course.’
Whatever he’s preparing smells incredible. My mouth waters at the sight of it. I never knew that having an attractive man cook food for me could be a turn on, but my God, it is. I feel like being around Zayden is not healthy for me. I just want to jump his bones twenty-four seven.
‘After we eat, we’re going to break down your courses and figure out what needs our attention the most. I’d like to work out what you have due, and when, so we can begin working on the most important things first. Afterwards, we should go for a walk to get some fresh air.
It’ll be a good way to clear your head after studying.
Then I guess I can leave you to it. I don’t want to overstay my welcome. ’
The thought of returning to my apartment fills me with dread, but I know that being here was only a temporary solution. I can’t take up any more of Zayden’s time, no matter how much I’m enjoying being here.
‘I was in agreement with you until that last part.’ He makes a clicking sound with his mouth, shaking his head in disapproval. ‘Request denied.’
‘Huh?’ I ask.
‘You’re not leaving.’ He turns to face me. ‘Well, I mean, you can leave anytime you want, but I don’t want you to.’
Smiling up at him, I straighten in my seat. ‘Oh?’
‘Stay as long as you want. In fact, move in.’
I laugh. ‘Okay, now I know you’re joking.’
He joins me in laughing, but shrugs. ‘I mean, I’m not, but okay.’
‘I can’t just move in.’
‘Why not?’
‘This is your space and you already have two roommates.’
‘Anya and Mason are in the one room now, hence the spare room. It’s already there. Take it, if you want it.’
‘I appreciate that, but I’d hate to overstep and have you get sick of me or something. Also, this is Anya and Mason’s space too, they might not want to have another person here, making things crowded.’
‘I won’t get sick of you. In fact, I think I’m a bit obsessed with you.’
My jaw hits the floor. I gape at him as he casually continues cooking, releasing a soft, low hum as he does. Did he just say that?
‘What do you want to drink?’ he asks, pulling the fridge door open and peering inside. ‘Lemon, lime and bitters?’
‘S-sure,’ I stammer, still processing what he just said.
Unscrewing the lid, he slides it over to me and continues to dish up the plates.
Finally moving on from the comment, I shake my head, bewildered. I don’t know if he genuinely meant that, but I feel the exact same way about him. I’m trying to understand how he could be feeling that for me. I just don’t get it.
‘Wait,’ I say, staring down at the loaded bowl. ‘What is this? Is it spicy?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘Just eat it. You’ll like it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I made it,’ he says in a duh tone.
My stomach grumbles and I decide to just do it.
I’m not one to be adventurous with my food and this looks a hell of a lot healthier than what I cook, but it looks amazing.
The bowl is piled high with glossy cubes of salmon, edamame, carrots, cucumber, with sesame seeds scattered through it.
Rice sits beneath with some sort of sauce or dressing drizzled over it.
Twisting my fork around, I pile the food on and take a generous bite.
An explosion of flavour meets my tongue the moment I shovel it in. A soft moan escapes me.
‘Woah. What is this?’ I ask, surprising myself just how much I like it.
‘A secret recipe that has been passed down in my family. I cannot share, otherwise I’d have to kill you.’
‘Right,’ I laugh. ‘It’s good. You’re a great cook.’
He bows. ‘Thank you.’
Snatching his own bowl off the bench, he moves to take the seat beside me.
‘Have you always played football?’ I ask.
‘Mmhmm,’ he answers, mouth full. ‘Sure have.’
‘You obviously love it?’
‘What I feel for football is beyond love at this point. How about you?’ he asks. ‘Did you play any sport growing up?’
‘I used to horse ride but haven’t competed for quite a few years. I just do it for enjoyment now, when I visit back home.’
‘Oh, so you know how to ride?’ he asks, sounding innocent.
I laugh. ‘Maybe.’
‘I might have to see for myself.’
With cheeks so red you could fry an egg on my skin, I take a long sip of my drink and clear my throat, unable to respond to that in a cool, flirty way.
‘I danced a lot, too. I loved it. I’m enjoying getting back into it now.’
‘Why did you ever stop?’ he asks.
Swallowing, I feel my stomach sink, never having admitted this out loud to anyone before, but I feel like I should.
‘I overheard my father once telling my stepmum that he was embarrassed that I danced because he viewed me as the “fat” and “awkward-looking” kid on stage. It rocked my confidence and I quit out of the blue. My mum was so upset with me. I’d been doing it for years, so much training, and then I quit with no explanation.
I regret it so much. I truly loved it, but I just couldn’t go out on stage anymore with his comment in my mind. It took the enjoyment out of it.’
When I finally dare to look up, Zayden is staring at me, open-mouthed, his fork hanging midway between the bowl and his mouth. He slowly lowers it, still looking shocked.
‘Are you serious?’ he asks.
‘Yeah. It was traumatising.’
‘I’m so sorry that happened to you. I swear, you grow up looking up to your parents, thinking they’re so perfect. It’s devastating realising they’re flawed just like everyone else. What a shit thing to say. I’m starting to realise now why you’re not very close to him.’
‘Yeah,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m back at it now and loving it though, so that’s the main thing.’
‘Exactly,’ he agrees. ‘Do you visit home much?’
‘I visit Mum when I can, but she’s a few hours away. I’ll go if I have a long weekend and no assignments due or on semester break. We call a lot though. Mum and I are close.’
‘That’s nice. I was under the impression you didn’t get along with your family.’
‘One side I’m very close to, the other not so much,’ I explain. ‘My parents have been separated my whole life. My dad has an entire new life with new people. I don’t fit in with them.’
‘How so?’ he questions.
‘They make me feel inadequate. Like I’m a disappointment and no matter what I do, it’s never enough.’
‘That’s shitty. I’m sorry.’
‘I don’t want to feel like an outsider in my own family, but it’s not exactly in my control. They speak down to me constantly and make truly terrible comments right to my face.’
‘What?’ he exclaims, his brows almost disappearing into his hairline.
‘You’ll see what I mean when you meet them.’
‘Well, you’ll have me there at your next family event. Hopefully that will make things a little more bearable.’
‘It will, for sure,’ I say earnestly. Although the comments they’ll make about him will upset me, having someone there to make me feel less alone is going to be a good thing.
Especially someone like Zayden. I don’t think he’ll be scared off too easily, and I like that I don’t have to hide or pretend around him.
‘When’s the wedding?’ he asks.
‘In two months.’
‘Cool. Plenty of time for me to find an outfit then. What are you wearing?’
‘I have no clue yet. Also, I’ll be buying your outfit. I don’t want you to be out of pocket for anything since you’re doing me a favour by coming.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You are.’
‘I’m not. Besides, you’ll have to match me, so I have to pick out all the colours anyway. Trust me, you’ll look great.’
‘I always look great,’ he winks.
‘Agreed,’ I say, the word leaving my mouth without any prior thought going into it.
‘Oh?’ he asks, his face lighting up. ‘You think I always look great?’
‘More than great, actually.’
He leans over, his eyes connecting with mine and I stare at him, counting the freckles dusting across his cheeks. He searches my gaze for a moment before lightly kissing me. Tingles shoot down my spine at the touch.
‘I think you look more than great, too.’
We have been at it for hours.
My eyes are starting to strain. Reading and staring at a computer screen is second nature to me. Fighting off a yawn, I shift back in my seat, running my fingers through my long strands.
‘I think this is the longest I’ve sat still since I was about five years old,’ Zayden comments, interlocking his fingers behind his head and reclining back in the chair. The sound of his back cracking makes me wince.
‘We’ve made a lot of progress. I’m very impressed.’
‘Thank you,’ he murmurs, beaming at the praise. ‘It isn’t easy for me to sit down like this and focus. Maybe I should have hired a hot tutor a long time ago.’
Heat rushes up my neck. The casual way he says these kinds of things sends me reeling. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to his confidence, but I like that about him. I wish I had the courage to say what I was thinking whenever I felt it.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask.
‘Pretty good. This is the most organised and prepared I’ve felt for ages. For once I feel like I know what this damn assessment is actually about.’
‘Well. Knowing that is generally a good place to start.’ I smile. ‘I’m glad you feel like you’re comprehending it a bit more.’