13. Rosy
THIRTEEN
ROSY
Nate hands me the plate he’s loaded up for me, and our hands brush as I accept it. My heart flutters, then pounds, as it does every time I’m around him.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
It’s only my second meal with them, my second time even being here in their home, but it’s starting to feel natural already.
The only thing feeling off is Max’s unusual silence.
Even when eating, he usually keeps up a stream of conversation.
But tonight, it’s as though he’s just going through the motions.
Did I say something wrong earlier when we were at my place?
Worry niggles at me; the need to try to smooth things over and apologise for something I may or may not have done tries to worm its way in.
No. I mentally halt myself, recalling the words drilled into me by my former therapist. I’m not responsible for his reactions, emotions, or thoughts. I need to trust that he will communicate with me.
The words help soothe my worry, and the ache eases slightly, but my gaze keeps flicking back to him.
A light touch on my knee has my focus drifting away from Max’s far-off expression. My gaze trails from the immaculate fingers, up a woollen sleeve, to a probing hazel stare.
“What would you like to drink?” Noah asks.
Swallowing back the extra saliva that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, I try to get my brain to think. Come on.
Thoughts, any of them, would be ideal right now.
“Rosy? We have tea, coffee, juice…” He smiles reassuringly, and it causes small creases to spread around his eyes.
“I like tea. What options do you have?” I manage to croak, feeling flustered under his attention.
“There should be peppermint, lemon and ginger, and possibly chamomile, if you fancy herbals. Otherwise, we have PG or Earl Grey,” Bry comments, breaking the spell Noah has me under.
“Oh, I’d love lemon and ginger, please.”
Bry gifts me with another warm smile. Why are they all so handsome when they smile at me? It’s criminal and cruel to be surrounded by it all. “We can get some more flavours if there’s anything specific you like,” he offers, oblivious to his effect on me.
“You don’t have to do that. I’m happy to drink whatever you have, or I can just bring some of my own. You don’t need to buy a whole box of something if it’s just me drinking it. Plus, I’m sort of a mood drinker.” I laugh, slightly embarrassed that I just admitted that.
Tea. I’m talking about bloody tea.
Should I be talking about sports instead? I need to read up on some because I am clueless.
Max snorts. “Noah’s the same, so don’t worry. You can both get excited over weird, fruity water together.” He waves, then takes another huge bite of pizza.
“Ignore him, Rosy. Max has no taste in anything that isn’t food,” Noah says dryly. He squeezes my knee gently, then gets up and walks into the kitchen.
“I have excellent taste.” The flirty man winks at me, holding my eyes for a second before his attention returns to the pizza he’s demolishing at an alarming speed. Watching him be his more usual bouncy self releases some of the tension I didn’t realise I was holding.
Max suits happy. It’s like he’s wrapped in sunshine, and being near him can make you feel warm even when the rest of the world is cold and dreary.
Noah walks back in, a steamy mug in either hand, and offers me one. Thanking him, I grasp the deliciously warm mug in my hands and inhale the deep, comforting scent of citrus, letting out a soft sigh as I exhale.
Taking a small sip, I savour the liquid before letting it glide down my throat, the spicy ginger lingering pleasantly in my mouth.
“Does it taste as good as it looks?” Nate’s voice is a rough whisper in my ear.
Peering up at him, my eyes widen when I see the heat in his.
“Yes? D-did you want some?”
Keeping our eyes locked, he reaches out a large hand, takes the mug from me, lifts it up to his lips, and drinks. As he draws back, his tongue slides across his lower lip, swiping at a discarded droplet. My eyes leave his to follow the movement, wishing I could be that tantalising lip.
I murmur my thanks as he places the tea back into my hands, unsure what exactly I’m thanking him for, before I turn back to face the others, feeling flushed and jittery.
Max and Bry are chatting about something to do with a video game, but Noah’s watching us intently.
His eyes flick back and forth between us, then he offers me a reassuring smile.
He exudes a quiet, peaceful confidence, and it’s such a foreign feeling that it makes me feel almost giddy.
The temptation is there to just want to be around him, wrapped in his silky, comforting presence.
I bet it would be blissful to listen to him narrate bedtime stories; to be honest, even him reading food packaging or flat-pack instructions would work too.
“Do you read?” I blurt, my curiosity apparently too eager to be internalised. “I mean, books. Fiction, non-fiction, or anything?”
A small twitch tugs at his lips, and he takes a deep sip of his tea before answering.
“I do enjoy reading books—fiction, non-fiction, or anything…” Noah trails off, and I blush.
“But I particularly like emotional, psychological thrillers.” His elbow moves to rest on the sofa arm, and his index finger brushes his mouth as he watches me.
“That’s interestingly specific. Why those?” I question, enthralled.
He chuckles softly. “I guess it is. Don’t get me wrong, I will read most things, but there’s something interesting about watching characters unravel: the suspense, the emotional strain, and the twists you go on as a reader. It’s compelling and quite addictive.”
My face scrunches. When he says it like that, it does make it sound good.
“I never seem to have enough time or energy to get through a book. I’ll read the odd novella, but otherwise I tend to listen to audiobooks.
Embarrassingly, it’s mainly all romance, though.
” I laugh awkwardly. “You’ll have to give me some recommendations, and I’ll download the audio version. ”
“Maybe we can pick one and both listen to it…I guess it would be considered a buddy listen instead of a buddy read. It would be enjoyable to have someone to discuss them with, regardless of the genre we choose.” His eyes are alight with interest, and my heart thunders at the thought of spending more time with him.
“I’d love that.” Enthusiasm bubbles out in my response. “I’ve never buddy read or listened before. We could take turns selecting what to listen to? Or I could listen to the audio, and you can read, if that works better for you. You can pick the first one for us to try.”
A low, rough chuckle comes from beside me. “Breathe, Rosy.” Nate nudges me gently with his shoulder.
My face flushes deep scarlet. “I-I’m sorry. I’m getting too carried away and excited.”
His finger brushes against my cheek, pushing at the indentations creasing my face from my smile. “Don’t say sorry. It suits you.”
I’m still blinking mutely when Noah pulls my attention back to him. “He’s right; it does. Would you mind giving me your number? Then I can message you once I’ve picked a book for us?”
“What? I want your number too,” Max bursts out, his attention pulled from the game he’s been playing on the handheld console.
“I have it. I can just pass on messages.” Nate huffs grumpily.
“Suck it. Sharing is caring. No hoarding, you dragon,” Max retorts, thrusting his phone in my face.
Warmth trickles through me at the feeling of being wanted. I’ve never had this many friends at once before. I had casual friends through school, but none of them really spent time with me outside of it.
In all honesty, I’m not sure at what point someone becomes a friend.
I have brief conversations with the girl who works at the cafe near work, but how do I know if she’s a friend or not?
I’d consider Steph a close friend, but she did tell me when we first met that we’d become “great friends”, so unless someone says something, at what point does it cross this invisible boundary?
Adding my contact in Max’s phone, I then add it to Noah’s, then Bry’s.
“And the first message has been sent.” Max shoots me a cheeky wink.
I shrug apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t bring it with me. I’ll message back when I go home.”
“That’s fine. You can enjoy the building anticipation,” he quips, then places his phone down and picks up the TV remote. “Football's starting.”
Turning on the screen, he flicks to a sports channel and becomes instantly absorbed.
“Rosy’s our guest, Maxi. You can’t just throw the game on if she doesn’t like it.
” Bry rolls his eyes, then grabs the remote and offers it to me.
It’s sweet that he thought of me so easily like that, but my stomach clenches at being put on the spot.
I don’t want them to change their routines or not be able to do something they enjoy because I’m here in their space, their home.
“No, no. I don’t mind. You can watch whatever you want, really,” I reassure, waving away Bry’s extended hand.
“Rosy can choose something next time,” Noah steps in.
Being included in future plans causes all sorts of butterflies to flit around inside me.
Max swivels towards me, his face wide with a cheerful, infectious smile that has one spreading my lips too. “We can put on a chick flick and snuggle. Unlike this lot, I love a good snuggle sesh.”
A sharp snort escapes me. His brows shoot up, and his smile gets even wider, before laughter erupts from us both.
“I snuggle,” Nate asserts gruffly.
I giggle harder. The image of snuggling with any of these men is laughable, beyond my grasp…well, Max or perhaps Bry is believable.
But Noah or Nate?
I cover my mouth to contain the giggles. Although I would be very willing to be a participant if any of them wanted it. That thought has a different kind of image playing in my mind—me sandwiched between two of them.