16. Stella
CHAPTER 16
STELLA
I resist the urge to change my outfit, but I do freshen my makeup, justifying that I’d do it if I were going to dinner at any neighbor’s house, not just the super sexy ones.
On the walk over, I have to call Jessie back to us because she keeps skipping ahead. “You didn’t like mac and cheese the last time I made it. Why are you so excited to go eat it at Cam and Wyatt’s house?”
“Because Cam and Wyatt are fun. Maybe their mac and cheese will be good too.”
Her first grade logic turns out to be sound, because the mac and cheese is delicious, creamy and rich, with a generous amount of perfectly cooked bacon on top. There’s salad too, and roasted brussels sprouts, and my jaw drops when Jessie eats three of them and asks for more.
It’s all so tasty that I eat a bit too much, and I regret it when Wyatt brings out a plate full of his chocolate chip cookies.
While Jessie’s oohing and ahhing over them, Wyatt bends and whispers in my ear. “Would you like me to create a distraction, so you can grab all the cookies?”
I smile and laugh, but what’s actually distracting is how his warm breath so close to my ear makes me feel. And the smell of him, so crisp and clean and manly. I wouldn’t be surprised if my pulse rate doubled from that brief exchange, and I’m glad the cookies are attracting everyone’s attention, because I’m afraid my reaction to Wyatt might be clear to anyone looking.
Sure enough, Marissa happens to glance my way across the table, and the way she smiles and quirks her brow tells me that she can see exactly how I’m feeling.
Marissa looks at the men, who are both in conversation with Jessie about their favorite types of cookies, then back at me. She tilts her head toward the men and gives me a look that communicates so much, namely: What’s wrong with you? You need to get after those men. Especially if they can cook and bake food like this.
I bite my bottom lip and shake my head. We shouldn’t have come over here. I’m afraid Marissa is going to join Ana in encouraging me to go out, but neither of my friends have kids, and they sometimes overlook the fact that I have bigger concerns than sex and romance.
Shit! Why did I have to think about sex? Ever since I walked into the men’s home, I’ve been struggling not to notice how good they look, or think about how they made me feel in that damn dream that I can’t get out of my head.
What makes it worse is that even though most of their videos are filmed outdoors, some short ones were done in their house, and being here keeps reminding me of things I’ve seen.
One type of recurring video on their channel that breaks up all the dueling and battling, is of Cam making morning coffee and wishing their viewers a good day.
There’s another really popular type that’s a montage of Wyatt, shirtless, doing household chores like dusting, vacuuming, and washing dishes, and their followers go wild on those, with comments offering all kinds of indecent enticements to get Wyatt to come clean their houses.
“Stella?”
“Hmm?”
Cam’s calling my name, and when I look up, everyone’s looking at me, except for Jessie, who's fully focused on the cookie she’s eating.
“Would you like tea or coffee?” Cam asks, sounding like he’s repeating the question.
“Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts for a moment. No, thank you. I’m good.”
Marissa is giving me yet another knowing look, but I ignore her.
After dinner, we all go into the living room, which looks both lived-in and comfortable, but also tidy and nicely decorated, with a lot of warm, dark tones and rich textures, like the plaid fleece blanket on the back of the sofa, which looks like it would be cozy to curl up in.
Their whole house is neat and clean, in fact. I saw some of it the day I brought the delivery package over for them, but somehow I’ve still been picturing them living like frat boys, imagining their living room being dominated by a giant pool table piled with red plastic cups, but it’s nothing like that.
There’s a big-screen TV mounted on the wall, of course, because they are men, but there’s a nice wooden coffee table, a sofa and loveseat, and good lighting. It’s really inviting, actually. The only nod to their boylike behavior is a big stack of board games on the shelf in the corner, which Jessie is immediately drawn to.
Cam follows her over and asks if she’d like to play a game.
“Ooh, Clue! Can we play Clue?”
“Sure, we can play that,” Cam says easily before turning to the rest of us. “Would anyone else like to play?”
Wyatt quickly agrees, and Marissa shrugs and says yes, so I guess we’re playing.
The few times I’ve played Clue, it’s been really boring. It’s not a game I own, and I’m not even sure how Jessie knows about it. Maybe she saw it at a friend’s house.
While Cam sets up the game on the coffee table, he asks Jessie if she’s played, and when he finds out she hasn’t, he tells her how the game works.
I’m surprised how good he is with her, explaining things perfectly for her age, while not simplifying them so much that it would insult her intelligence. He must have younger siblings.
All of us gather around the table, and what follows is surely the most entertaining game of Clue that has ever been played.
Both men do voices throughout the entire game. “I suspect Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the rope,” Cam says in a comically distinguished British accent.
“I suspect Miss Scarlet in the conservatory with the lead pipe,” Wyatt says in a sultry feminine Southern drawl.
Not only do they do the voices, they make up hilarious motives for the suspected murderers that keep Jessie, Marissa, and me laughing through the entire game.
Cam gives Jessie assistance with keeping track of clues, and after several rounds of questioning, he urges her to make a guess that leads her to win the game.
On our walk home, a big bag of chocolate cookies in hand, Jessie raves about what a good time she had, and my own cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much.
It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
If only Cam and Wyatt were a bit more mature and serious, with jobs that didn’t have thousands of women lusting after them, they might be the perfect men.