Chapter 12 #3
"Part of it. I called my mom when I accepted it and she cried for ten minutes.
" I set the pot in the dish rack. "They've been waiting for me to land somewhere.
I just didn't know how for a long time." I'm still not sure why it mattered so much to them.
They're nomads, so why are they so shocked that I am too.
Was. Not am. I'm turning over a new leaf.
"And now you do?"
"I'm figuring it out. I've got the job. I've got the apartment.
" I dry my hands on the towel he abandoned.
"But knowing how to stay somewhere and knowing how to actually build something there — those are different skills.
My parents never taught me that one. Not because they didn't want to. They just didn't know how either."
Reid just holds my gaze, steady and warm.
"You know," he says quietly, "for someone who's never had a home base, you're doing a pretty good job of building one."
I think I’m starting to understand women with a praise kink. Reid seeing me, telling me I’m doing a good job could only be better if he’d called me a good girl too. I really like this guy. God, what were we talking about? Right. Building a home base. "I'm used to figuring things out alone."
"That doesn't mean you have to keep doing it that way."
I've gotten so good at being self-sufficient that I stopped letting myself think about what it might feel like to have someone who'd drop everything if I needed them. I just filed it under things other people have and moved on.
"Blake would do that for anyone in his circle," Reid continues. "But there aren't many people in that circle. He's careful about who he lets in."
"But once you're in?"
"Once you're in, you're family. And Blake doesn't abandon family." He pauses, brow furrowing. "He never admitted it, but I think Jared made him promise to look after me. That would be totally like him."
"You're really lucky," I say quietly. I wonder what that kind of devotion must be like. To know, without question, that someone will always choose you. That you matter enough for someone to rearrange their entire life around keeping you safe.
Don't get weird about it. It's not your devotion. It's theirs. You're a guest in this house eating their pasta and washing their dishes and you've known Blake Moore for two hours.
Two really good hours, though.
Reid reaches for my hand, still damp from the dishwater. "Laine, baby, you gotta stop breaking my heart."
He tugs the plate from my other hand and drops it back into the soapy water with a soft splash. Before I can protest, his hands are on my waist, pulling me closer until my wet palms land flat against his chest.
"Reid, I'm getting your shirt wet—"
"I don't care." His voice is rough in a way that makes my heart stutter. "This shirt has seen worse. I once got an entire slushie dumped on me by a girl who thought I was hitting on her boyfriend."
I laugh, startled. "What?"
"Long story. Another festival. Drugs were involved. Not mine." He's smiling, but his eyes are serious, focused entirely on me. "Point is, a little dishwater is nothing."
His thumbs brush back and forth along the waistband of my jeans. Just the tiniest motion, but it sends ripples through my whole body.
"This is the best date I've ever been on," he says quietly. "Since our last date, anyway."
I laugh, but it comes out breathless. "We're doing dishes."
"Doesn't matter." His hands slide up my back. "Any time I spend with you is incredible. I want more of it. All of it."
"Reid..."
He leans down, and I meet him halfway. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like we're both testing.
Then his hands press flat against my back and I melt into him, my fingers fisting in his shirt.
He tastes like the wine we shared with dinner, warm and rich, and when he deepens the kiss I make this embarrassing little sound that I absolutely cannot take back.
Well. That happened. Everyone heard that. The neighbors heard that. Blake definitely heard that from down the hall.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Reid rests his forehead against mine, his hands still framing my face.
"Jesus," he breathes. "I've been wanting to do that all night."
My heart is hammering. My lips feel swollen. I want to cling to him like a spider monkey, which is not a thought I'm going to share out loud. "Me too."
I can't remember the last time a kiss made me feel like this — like I might actually dissolve right here in his kitchen. Like the floor is optional.
"So," Reid says, and there's a hint of nervousness under his usual confidence. "I really like you, Laine."
"I really like you too."
"Yeah?" His smile is so bright it could light up the whole kitchen.
"Yeah."
He kisses me again, softer this time, like he's savoring it. When he pulls back, he's still grinning.
"Good. Because I was thinking maybe we could do this again sometime. The cooking thing. Or the kissing thing. Preferably both."
I laugh. He just comes out says says exactly what he's thinking. It makes it so easy to be honest back. "I'd like that."
"Tomorrow?"
"Eager much?"
"Extremely." He doesn't even try to hide it. "Is that weird? That's probably weird. I don't care. When can I see you again?"
I don't want to play it cool. "I'm off Wednesday."
"Wednesday. Perfect. I'll plan something. Or you can plan something. Or we can plan nothing and just hang out. Whatever you want."
"Maybe just hang out?"
"Hanging out it is." He's practically bouncing again, all that golden retriever energy back in full force. "Best date ever. Officially."
"We did dishes."
"Like I said. Best. Date. Ever."
Yeah. It kind of was.