Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Draven’s heartbeat refused to keep a consistent rhythm in his chest as Thea bit her lip and stared at him from across the kitchen island as he stirred their eggs. Maybe the hangover was altering her brain chemistry because it sure seemed like she liked him this morning.
She watched him with a twinkle of amusement and appreciation in those piercing gray eyes, rather than the distaste he got used to seeing in her expressions. Maybe making her breakfast was the key all along . The key was certainly not fighting over almond milk.
“ Why the eggs this morning ?” she wrote.
“ Someone —” He underlined the word and gestured to the empty blue and white half-gallon beside the microwave. “— used up all the milk, so no cereal for breakfast .”
She shrugged and wrote back, “ Must have been the milk fairy .”
She is so damn cute . He put down the spatula and wrote, “ A veggie omelet should help with your hangover. Not that I would know what it’s like to have a hangover or be an irresponsible partier like Thea Gullybil .”
She smirked and took back her notepad. She twirled her pen in her fingers as he mixed in the cut-up vegetables with the whisked eggs. She pressed the end of the pen between her lips, tapping it again and again against her mouth, drawing his attention to it.
She is contemplating writing something . But what? What would she hesitate to say to him? Maybe “ I was wrong about you ?”
He finished cooking their cheesy veggie scrambled eggs—because, damn, flipping an omelet is hard—and placed her plate in front of her first. He used to love cooking for Summer and Geo when his parents were off on brainiac scientific work trips. At sixteen, he often took over household chores like prepping his younger siblings’ lunches for school and cooking dinner.
Draven’s grandmother, Mimi, taught him different meals, priding herself on passed-down recipes. As her memory began to slip, the recipes were some of the first things to go. She started putting out five random ingredients for him, telling him to “make it work” and create something. It worked out since Mimi was obsessed with the Food Network TV show Chopped .
I want Thea to like my food. I want her to look at me with those big, soulful eyes and smile and see that I’m…good at something .
Draven’s mind skipped with lyrics.
“ Make me feel whole,
and I’ll feed your soul.
I’ll give you everything you need.
Baby, just hunger for me. ”
He shook his head. You’re a drummer, remember? Not a songwriter. In some people’s eyes, he was not even an artist.
He held his breath as Thea lifted a forkful to her mouth, taking a bite. She groaned as she chewed, and the throaty sound of it reverberated in Draven’s body. She likes it .
His cock woke up, twitching at the sound she made. The pesky body part seemed particularly awake this morning. Draven tried not to think about how Thea had been naked in his bed.
They ate quietly, chewing, swallowing, and smiling at each other. Thea inhaled the eggs, and Draven recognized a similar hunger in himself. Just not for food .
She showed him her notepad, “ I’m almost jealous of your hookups .”
His eyebrows rose so high that they nearly broke off into his hairline.
She quickly jotted down, “ Because they would wake up to breakfast, I mean. These eggs are amazing. That’s what I meant. ”
He swallowed thick emotion down his throat, the vulnerability choking him. “ Women don’t tend to stay for breakfast ,” he slowly wrote back.
She rolled her eyes. “ Please tell me you don’t kick them out when you’re done with them .”
More like they run off once they’re done with me . Draven shook his head furiously at her words. “ Not at all. ” To tell her or not to tell her. To be vulnerable or to be comfortable. Draven watched her clean the rest of her plate, scraping any melted cheese that still clung to the glass onto her fork.
He wrote, “ My ‘hookups,’ as you so sophisticatedly referred to them, tend to be a bam, wham, thank you, ma’am .”
She blinked at his message, frowning.
He clarified, “ A ‘one, done, thanks, hun .’ You know. ‘A down and dirty, then scurry.’”
She rolled her eyes and wrote, “ A ‘have sex, then off to the next?’”
Grinning, he nodded. “ Intercourse, then make like a racehorse. ”
Grinning back, she added, “ A pump and dump. ”
“ A classic ‘penetrate and skate .’”
She laughed, the sound louder than the average person’s chuckle. Because she can’t hear herself , Draven realized. The sound was so free and pure and good-natured. I love music, but damn, her laugh could be one of my favorite melodies .
He wanted to keep making her laugh. But she grew serious and wrote, “ I thought that was what men preferred? A one-night stand. A hookup, then never having to see or talk to that person again .”
He wrote, “ There is hooking up with someone, and then there is rushing out and making the person feel like abandoned, dirty trash .”
Her frown reappeared. Shit. Said too much , he thought. “ What do you mean ?” she asked.
Draven sighed. “ I once asked a woman to stay for breakfast, and she looked at me like I was stupid for suggesting it .”
As she read, Thea’s dark brows furrowed, and he wanted to soothe them and stop talking about this. She wrote, “ Was she on a diet or something? Maybe you accidentally offered a vegan some bacon. ”
Oh, Thea . Draven shook his head and shot her a sad smile. “ Women only want me for one thing. And once I give them their wild oats-sowing night, they hightail it out of here like I have cooties .”
“ Draven, all men have cooties ,” Thea wrote back, trying to lighten the mood and make him feel better. “ They’re men ,” she underlined, then she feigned a cringe. “ Ick .”
Ignoring the tightness in his chest, he revealed, “ Women hook up with drummers. They don’t want to have breakfast together or watch a movie or date. So yeah, none of them stay for breakfast. They get their ‘experience,’ and they leave .”
Her expression turned pouty, the pitiful statement shining in her eyes, “ Oh, Draven .”
“ It’s fine; it’s not like I say no to the sex. It’s not like it is not fun for the both of us ,” he wrote, tapping his pen to the page a few times. “ But I’d like to eat breakfast with someone once in a while, you know? ”
I like eating breakfast with you , he thought.
She bit her lip, her eyes freaking watering as if she could feel the pain he felt, as if she saw right through him. She wrote, “ Draven, them skipping breakfast has nothing to do with you .”
He rolled his eyes and scoffed.
“ You’re worth more than just a one-time fling. Anyone would be lucky to spend a lazy morning with you, even if it’s just cold cereal in front of some cartoons . No eggs or extra effort required. ”
He exhaled sharply. She had basically painted the exact picture he imagined with her. And those words… You’re worth more than just a one-time fling . He wanted her simple, beautiful words to overwrite the memory of his ex saying, “ You fuck a drummer. You don’t date one .”
“ I’m sure they don’t rush out because of you ,” she stressed, reaching out and touching his hand.
A light touch. Like she originally planned to squeeze the back of his hand in solidarity but hesitated and ended up pausing just when the skin of her palm hovered over his flesh.
At that mere touch, little flames ran down Draven’s back. His spinal cord was a poured line of gasoline, igniting every nerve ending for her. “Tingles” and “sparks” did nothing to describe the sensation.
Feel it too, Thea. I beg you. I dare you. Feel it too .
She pulled away. She bent her head down as she jotted a new message. When she looked up, she grinned and flashed him an utterly goofy expression as she showed him the note.
“ They probably rush out on you because you’re horrible at sex .”