Chapter 25
Oliver
When I opened the door, I was struck by the scent of food. Immediately, my stomach growled like a ferocious bear. I put a hand over it as I walked into the kitchen, only to find exactly what I dreamed about. Literally. I’d dreamed about Dean last night, even as I slept right next to him.
Yeah. Again.
“Testing your skills?” I asked as I leaned against the fridge.
He glanced at me only briefly before he refocused on the cutting board. There was a small orange pepper there that made my brows raise. The only reason I was familiar with it was because I worked at a grocery store. I’d never been brave enough to handle something like a habanero.
“I’ve been practicing,” he replied after he put the knife in the sink.
“Does that make me your guinea pig?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “If you don’t mind.”
“Anything for you, Broku. I’d rather take the L than make your parents try an untested dish.”
“Yeah, that would be embarrassing.”
“I’m sure they’d be proud of you regardless.”
“Unless it killed them.”
“Hey, friend. Remember that negativity thing we talked about?”
His smile deepened, although I didn’t think he was aware of it.
There was such a fond expression on his face when he talked about his family.
I enjoyed it even more when he was actually on the phone with them.
It had been an effort not to be obvious about the way I’d watched him, especially when I heard about his mom’s new job.
I’d have to send Dr. Matteo a thank you note or something.
I nodded toward the pepper on the cutting board. “Don’t touch your face after that.”
“Good looking out.”
“I’m gonna hit the shower.”
“Alright, it should be ready in an hour.”
I watched him for another second, enjoying the way he was locked in. He seemed a little lost but not incompetent.
With a yawn, I stripped out of my shirt on my way to the bathroom.
I tossed it into the basket that stood in the corner, then closed the door most of the way, leaving it cracked slightly.
For a second, I stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked tired, and I decided it was probably best if I didn’t stay up too late tonight.
Dean didn’t work, so I wouldn’t need to wait up.
Once I was in the shower, I ran my fingers through my hair. They got caught in some of the waves, making me hiss.
God, it would be nice to have someone to comb their fingers through it for me. Maybe even wash it. That sounded romantic as hell.
I’d never had much intimacy, even in my adult life. Meaningless interactions weren’t my thing, and I’d seen too many people fall victim to the wrong partners.
Like Remi. He had been burned so many times, I was surprised he didn’t have scars to prove it. Not for the first time, I wished he’d let me vet the people in his life. He was just terrible at connecting with the right ones, and somehow, he never seemed to learn.
Hopping out of the shower, I grabbed a new towel from under the sink. I couldn’t even lie; seeing them neatly stacked had a sort of aesthetic to it that felt nice, like I had my life in order.
Realizing I hadn’t brought a change of clothes, I wrapped the towel around my waist and left the bathroom. Before I made it to the closet, I heard Dean swear in the kitchen. Something clattered, so I rushed in that direction.
“What happened?” I demanded.
He had his hands hovering in front of his eyes, which were squeezed shut. When he tried to open them, they fluttered, and I saw that they were red and watery.
I grabbed his wrists before he could touch his eyes again. “I told you not to do that.”
“I washed my hands. Twice.”
Shaking my head, I twisted him around so he was leaning against the counter. “Doesn’t work. The oils get in your skin. Next time, wear gloves.”
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
It was hard not to laugh. He just looked so angry about it. His booming voice made me tighten my grip on him, but I didn’t pull away.
“Come on. We’ve got to flush your eyes.”
“That sounds like serial killer shit,” he grumbled, but he let me lead him to the bathroom.
“Sit. Lean your head back.”
He sat against the tub and did as I said. Grabbing the handheld showerhead, I turned it on low and angled his face.
“Don’t freak out,” I murmured.
He just grunted, which I took as my cue to start. His eyes continued to flutter and try to close as I rinsed them, but he did his best.
After a few minutes, he focused on me. Being under his dark gaze made my heart speed up, and for a second, I forgot that I was holding the showerhead. Until he spluttered and had to spit water out of his mouth.
“You trying to waterboard me?” he growled.
“Maybe you’ll be more agreeable.”
“Who’s agreeable when they get pepper oils in their eyes?”
“It’s the capsaicin.”
“I don’t care.”
I chuckled, then quieted when the front door opened.
Immediately, my shoulders rose, and I tried to look behind me, but it made me spray the wall.
Dean grabbed my arm, firmly, and I found myself meeting his eyes again.
Even though he was the one in a vulnerable position, I was overcome by something I’d never felt.
It was like when he kept me from falling after that guy ran into me, but infinitely stronger.
For a second, I could imagine a stranger walking into the apartment. Instead of some horrifying scenario playing out, I just saw Dean. He’d admitted that he didn’t fight, but then again, he’d tried to throw hands with Cyrus when he thought I was in danger.
If Dean was here, I felt safe.
“Whoa, you’re offering sponge baths now?” Remi’s voice said from the doorway.
“Don’t you ever call?” I snapped before I shut off the water.
When I turned around, he was leaning against the frame with one brow raised. “Neither of us do.”
Realizing he was right, I took a breath. “Maybe we should.”
His lips thinned, but that was the only sign he showed me. Maybe it was because Dean was here, but I didn’t like that he was trying to hide his reaction. That wasn’t our thing.
I gestured to Dean. “He touched his eyes after cutting a habanero.”
Remi snorted a laugh. “Dumbass.”
Dean made an annoyed sound before he walked into his bedroom. I just stared at the open door, not sure what to do.
“What’s going on?” Remi asked, dropping his voice lower.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You know I can see through you.”
“Then you should see there’s nothing happening. Anyway, what’s up with you?”
He walked into the living room and sat on the couch, spreading his arms across the back. “I’m bored.”
“Is that all?” I grabbed a pair of shorts and pulled them on under my towel before I dropped it. Sitting beside him, I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“You’ve been neglecting me. Not gaming as much. You don’t come by the bar as often.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I’ve been distracted.”
“By what?”
My gaze went to Dean’s door. “I don’t know.”
Silently, Dean left his room and returned to the kitchen. I wanted to check on him, but I knew it wasn’t necessary.
“Cole came by,” Remi said after a minute.
Sitting up, I turned to look at him. He was expressionless, but I could see the cracks in his easygoing facade.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Drinking with friends.”
“You didn’t talk to him, right?”
“I had to take his order.”
“No, you didn’t. You could’ve kicked him out. It’s your bar.”
He breathed a laugh, finally letting a smile through. “I love when you get overprotective, Oli.”
“I’ll get freaking feral if you entertain his nonsense one more time. He’s an asshole.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “He looked damn good, though.”
“No.” I flicked his nose hard. “All venomous animals look pretty. Stay away from him.”
“Hey, I told you, right? Wouldn’t you say that means I’m being smart, holding myself accountable?”
“Or you were hoping I’d say something different.”
“Whatever. You win.”
“Hey, Oli?” Dean called from the kitchen. “Can you taste this?”
I wanted to tell him I’d taste whatever he asked me to. Instead, I gave Remi a look that told him I didn’t trust his judgment. That alone was an understatement.
I joined Dean in the kitchen and licked my lips. When his eyes fell to my chest, I stepped closer. Maybe I should’ve put on a shirt already. But then again, he might not look at me like that if I had, like he was hungry for something other than the meal.
I really needed to put chains on my imagination.
“You like spicy, right?” he asked, his voice a little gritty.
“Are you making assumptions? In that case, I’m surprised you do like spicy food.”
He rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I’ve seen you order extra jalapenos on your Subway sandwich.”
“Guilty. Am I getting a bite or what?”
He held a spoon out to me. I could’ve grabbed it, but instead, I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around it. His hand shook a little, and I met his eyes.
Pulling the spoon back, he laughed. “You’re fucking weird.”
“I saved your eyes from amputation. Be nice to me.”
“Nah, I don’t think I will.”
I shoved his chest, which just made him do the same. After stumbling for a second, I grabbed the hand towel off of the counter and rolled it up. His eyes widened, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid a strike to the calf.
“Shit!” he shouted.
He grabbed the end of the towel, starting a rough game of tug-of-war that got us dangerously close to destroying the kitchen.
When I released my end, he crashed into the wall, but it didn’t give me enough time to get away.
I was barely in the living room when I felt the crack against my side.
As I whirled around, I lost my balance and fell on my ass, which made him wheeze.
Hanging my head, I leaned back on my hands while I caught my breath. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”
“Thought you liked those.”
My head snapped up. Cocking it, I tried to read his expression. The humor on his face faltered, and since I didn’t want to make it awkward, I forced a laugh. “I’m done with you, Broku.”
“I’m still waiting to hear if the food sucks,” Remi said.
Looking at him, I found him staring at his phone.
“It’s fantastic,” I replied, “but don’t tell Dean.”
Turning back to the chef, I winked. The way his cheeks pinked made me smile. As if he was a demure teenager, he awkwardly turned around and headed back into the kitchen.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Remi asked.
If only I knew.