Twenty-Two #2
She laughs. “Are you kidding? More times than I can count. We used to go to the beach in Chicago most summer weekends. But
I wasn’t expecting to be confronted by his bare chest this early in the morning.” She slants me a small smile, and I see the
truth in it. Truth and more than a little lingering lust. Her appreciative look eases the sting of the teasing, and I jump
in.
“Don’t go getting any ideas, Morris.” I gesture at his shirt. “If you don’t want that ruined, I’ve got an old shirt you can
borrow, but this is not a clothing-optional activity.”
“Bummer,” he says, shifting his gaze toward where Mia is selecting a paintbrush from the box she brought out of the shed.
Part of me wants to tell him to cut it out, but he’s not being creepy about it.
If Mia and I were just friends, I would do my best not to get in the way of something developing between them, like I always have with other men she’s been interested in.
And she doesn’t want me to act differently around her in public, that much was clear from our 3:00 a.m. conversation, even if nothing else is.
So I grit my teeth and try not to stomp on the way to the shed to grab the extra cans of wood stain.
“You’ve got to make long strokes with the brush,” Morris says. He drags the bristles along the plank above his head, shirt
hitching up with the motion to reveal a swath of ripped abs. Unlike me, he does more than just garden for a workout, and it
shows.
He’s been playing teacher for the past half hour, and I’m honestly not sure if he’s doing it to screw with my head or because
he’s genuinely into her. Given the way he’s asked her about a million questions about herself, I’m going with the latter.
My mind goes to the list of tropes in the binder. Jealous love interest. That one was near the bottom of the list, one Mia said readers love or hate. I don’t want to be that guy, the one feeling
possessive, or jealous of anyone who so much as looks at the lady he likes. But I can’t deny that Mia not wanting to define
our relationship makes me feel unsure of where we stand.
Morris is a good-looking guy, if you’re into the bearded, burly lumberjack type, which pretty much everyone is, judging by
how often he ends up with someone’s number at the bar without even asking. And the times when he chooses to put on the charm,
like now? Riley once told him it was like looking into the sun during an eclipse: stunning, disorienting, but so worth the
experience.
While I disagree about blindness being an acceptable side effect, Riley wasn’t wrong about his ability to be charming. Mia has turned the tables, showing him how to blend the extra stain, and he’s watching her closely, laughing at himself when he fails to replicate her even strokes.
I know it’s just Mia being herself. The kind of person who gets along with everyone—well, anyone who’s not an outright jerk.
But she’s keeping herself distant from me, trying not to tip Morris off to what’s going on, and I miss our usual closeness.
Normally we’d be joking around, teasing each other about our technique. She’d threaten to sign her name somewhere, and I’d
dare her to do it, knowing she couldn’t handle the imperfection of it. But today I feel like I have to be on my best behavior,
weighing every word for innuendo, when we usually try to outdo each other in that area.
But after another hour, I can’t take it any longer. I need a break from playing pretend, like we’re even less than friends.
This is the most I’ve had to put on an act since we agreed to the experiment, and we’re not even testing a trope right now.
“Anyone want a drink?” I set down my paintbrush and motion toward the house.
“I could use one,” Mia says. “I’ll get them. I need to use the bathroom anyway.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, but she’s already headed inside, probably hoping for a break from the heat. Morris climbs off the ladder
and joins me in the shade.
“You sure you two aren’t a thing?” Morris uses his forearm to wipe sweat off his brow. “Because if not, then I need to seriously
up my game.”
“Just because she’s not into you doesn’t mean she’s into me,” I say. “It is possible for a woman to resist your charm.”
“Normally I’d disagree with you, but I pulled out all the stops, and she all but fell off the ladder watching you.”
It’s ridiculous how happy hearing that makes me, even after what we did last night. “I didn’t notice her looking.”
“That’s because you’ve been in a mood all morning. It’s just like the other day. She checked you out more times than I can count. Riley and I did a tally afterward—”
“You what?”
He holds up his hands. “Relax, man. It was cute. She clearly thought she was being low-key about it, but she’s obviously into
you. Why else would she show up at your house to stain your deck in ninety-degree weather?”
I want to tell him that I know she’s into me, because she made it very clear last night, more than once. But part of me wonders
whether the magic of last night will fade with the day, extinguished by the reality of waking up together.
Mia steps back out onto the patio, a six-pack of New Glarus beer in hand, and her eyes slide to mine, like it’s just the two
of us out here. That’s when I decide I’m done hiding how I feel.