Chapter 5 #2
I long for the burning in my legs as I push off, the sound of my skates on the ice, the feeling of flying when I stop skating and raise my hands to glide. The yearning is almost overwhelming.
I sit down and pull out my phone to mask my emotions while I wrestle with them. No one else needs to see this raw need mixed with abject terror. Because if I try to skate again, there is no way I can be sure I won't fall again. My ankle wasn’t the only thing inside me that broke that day.
I'm staring hard at my phone, zoning out, when Thorne skates up to me, fast. I flinch. "Fuck, you scared me."
He casts a glance behind him, then arches a brow at me. "Everyone else left. Are you waiting to get some shots of the empty rink for some reason?"
"No. I got lost in thought."
"Thinking about anything in particular?" His eyes gleam.
It makes my mouth go dry. "N-no."
"You sure about that?" He smirks, scratching his chin.
I pin him with a glare. "Are you ready to go?"
His smile widens and he skates backward. "I'll meet you at the exit in five."
I gather my stuff and slowly head to meet him. When he arrives, his duffel slung over his shoulder, he smirks again.
"Productive day?"
"It's 10 a.m." I huff out a breath. "Unfortunately, Juliet gave me an annoying new assignment."
"Oh yeah?" He opens the passenger side door for me before tossing his stuff in the backseat. "What's that?"
I climb in and get my seatbelt fastened before muttering, "It's you, Captain America. I'm spending the next week following you around, filming a lot of behind-the-scenes material. You may be a jerk, but you draw fans in."
Thorne looks far too pleased with himself. "Can I help it if I'm irresistible?”
"Ugh. Drive the car."
When he parks at the end of the dock, we head down the row of houseboats and get inside. "I have to take Gordie for a walk."
"I can walk him. I want to... uh... be a good guest."
This is a lie. I mostly want to escape the house and be alone with my thoughts. Plus, Gordie seems like good company.
He arches a brow. "If it were any other dog, I would say that you're too tiny to pull him back if he starts chasing squirrels. Gord is the best boy, though."
"Gordie? Want to go for a—" I'm interrupted by Gordie casually walking up to me with his leash in his mouth. "Who taught you that trick? You're so fricking cute."
"Take your phone just in case," Thorne tells me.
Waving my phone at him, I leash Gordie up and take him for a nice long stroll.
The dog sniffs trees and waters a sign post, but otherwise he's content to walk at my pace and smell the wildflowers that have sprouted up here and there.
He never barks or growls. "You're the best dog I've ever met. How'd Thorne end up so lucky?"
He barks once in response. Smart dog.
When I get in the door from walking Gordie, I'm immediately confronted by a fragrant scent and the sound of something frying.
Letting Gordie off his leash, I follow the dog into the kitchen, where his owner is standing in front of the stove. He's changed into a tight black T-shirt and jeans, though he's barefoot. As I let my gaze roam over him, taking in every tattooed, muscular inch, he notices me.
"I hope you like eggs and bacon. It’s basically the only meal I make for myself, no matter the time of day."
I nod, dropping into a seat at the counter. "Who doesn't? I could eat breakfast for every meal."
"I could too. The only thing I cook that's off my meal plan is eggs. Do you want a scramble with some veggies?"
"Please." I hop up, wandering to the coffee maker. "Can I make another pot? You know, since we're having breakfast at lunchtime?"
"It's your body. Can you drink caffeine now without staying up all night?" Thorne's lips twitch.
"God, what am I, a thousand years old?"
He shakes his head and fishes the bacon out of the frying pan with tongs. "You're a very young twenty-four."
"And you are the oldest 32-year-old I've ever met. Ancient."
He smirks and pours eggs into the same pan. "Just wait."
"Here's a fun fact. However old I get, you'll always be older."
"Rub it in, why don't you?"
I hit the button on the coffee pot and it starts to percolate. It only takes a few minutes for both the coffee and the eggs to be done. I resign myself to another dose of almond milk, but when I open the fridge to retrieve it, I go still.
Inside I find, not one, but four different kinds of oat-milk creamer, some flavored, some not. "You got me oat milk?"
Thorne rolls his eyes. "Yes, Mollie. To avoid you stomping around the kitchen, bitching about only having almond milk, I ordered a whole selection of oat milk creamers. I hope it satisfies you, your majesty."
It's thoughtful. It makes it a little hard to play this snarkfest that Thorne and I are always engaged in. I take a deep breath.
"Well, thanks."
"It's just oat milk." Thorne shoves a plate full of bacon and eggs into my free hand. "Here. Eat your eggs and stop making things weird."
I sit at the kitchen island with Thorne, eating the eggs he made for me and turning the oat milk over again in my mind.
I thought that I knew him pretty well, but before I moved in, I never pictured Thorne in the kitchen, cooking for someone.
Maybe he has a few good qualities, buried under all the smirks and fuckboy energy.
Thorne wolfs his food down, puts his plate in the sink, and disappears. When he comes back downstairs, I'm putting both of our plates in the dishwasher. His shoes are on, and he shoves his phone in his pocket.
"I won't be back for dinner. Don't wait up." Sliding me one more smug grin, he's out the door, off to parts unknown.
God. What if he's on a date? Worse, what if he brings her back here?
I open my texts to Indie.
me
update on the housing situation
currently residing in the floating home of my mortal enemy
I hate it here
indie
I’m so sorry. do you want me to ask my brother if you can come crash with us?
me
no. I know your place is tiny. I’m just looking for someone to complain to.
indie
complain away.
me
he made me eggs this morning. could be worse.
indie
wait
he MADE you EGGS
me
don't
indie
mollie
me
please don't
indie
the man made you EGGS
me
yeah, but then he rushed out of here looking all date-ready
and he told me not to wait up
indie
that sucks. it does seem like he’s trying though.
me
I guess.
Thorne is my brother's teammate. And temporarily, my roommate. That's all. I shouldn’t care whether he goes about his fuckboy life while I’m crashing at his place. I have no right to feel the twinge of jealousy that I do.
The thing is that he made me eggs. He ordered my creamer. He opened the car door. He reinforced my aerial silks without asking.
He acts like he hates me, he rejected me, but then he takes care of me. How should I feel about this?