15. Rose #2
She laughed, and his gaze found hers again for a second before he cleared his throat and continued filling his bowl. It was hard to wrap her head around Kirin potentially defending her in private.
Was it just for the benefit of the project? Or does he care?
Annoyed at the continuous second-guessing, she shoved it aside and tried to enjoy the moment instead of motives.
If the amount of marinara sauce on Kirin’s chicken was any indication, he was a fan.
There was no pesto, Alfredo, or carbonara in his bowl.
She added it to the mental notes she had on him, like his obsession with Whole Latte Heartbreak and the difference between the smile she already knew he gave everyone thanks to the hundreds of photos of him online versus the one she caught him with around people he cared for.
Once she filled her bowl with food, she followed the group to the couch, where Ainsley and Harper settled into their usual spots at each end. Having no other choice, Rose sat next to Kirin; their combined weight slid them together until their sides were touching. The heat of his body seared her.
“Sorry,” she murmured, edging away a bit as heat flushed her cheeks. This was so dumb. She knew it shouldn’t be a big deal, but her body went haywire anytime they touched.
Kirin shrugged. “No problem.”
But she caught the warmth in his cheeks and bit back her grin at the sight while Ainsley turned on the television and flipped through the various apps until she found what she wanted.
“What’re we watching?” Kirin asked between mouthfuls.
“Bake That Cake just started. Have you seen it?”
“My mom is obsessed, so yeah.” He grinned. “Did you agree with last season’s finale?”
“Um, no!” Harper said from her corner. “Julia kicked ass all season and they let Greg just take the win because her table was wobbly?”
“She should have kept that extra roll of duct tape. I told you five times, and you were all like, ‘No, it’s fine. She knows what she’s doing,’” Ainsley complained, imitating Harper’s voice as Rose glanced back and forth, lost as she ate.
“Rose looks confused,” Harper cut in, and three sets of eyes were on her a second later. “Have you never seen this show?”
“I don’t really watch reality shows.” Rose winced when Ainsley gasped in the most dramatic way possible. Ignoring her roommate, she redirected. “What’s it about?”
“It’s part survival game, part cooking competition, part scavenger hunt,” Kirin explained as Ainsley navigated to season one, episode one.
“There are ten contestants to start and they have two challenges every episode, but they aren’t just handed their ingredients, they have to scavenge for them and then also find and gain tools through mini-games they think they might need throughout the season because every episode they remove a comfort item.
Sometimes it’s whisks or pans, and other times it’s tables or just a leg to make it harder to get their cake finished. ”
“Sounds like a nightmare,” Rose murmured. Everyone turned toward the screen as an annoying intro song with far too much charisma started up.
The opening credits and a host with wild hair and a big smile introduced every contestant. Rose ate as excited new contestants ran into the camera’s view. Once they were all lined up behind their stations, she muttered, “Definitely a nightmare.”
“It’s fun! You’ll like it,” Kirin assured her, patting her knee a few times before leaving it there. Although she tried not to let all her attention focus on that spot, the warmth of his hand provided plenty of distraction.
“Rose is a bit of a control freak,” Harper whispered to Kirin, earning a glare from Rose.
“I am not.”
“Have you seen her room?” Ainsley snorted. “Definitely a control freak. She put up a chore chart her first week here and then wasn’t home for like a month to hear us complain about it.”
“I was gone for two weeks and yet you two got everything done on your lists.” Rose pointed her fork at Ainsley. “We didn’t have a kitchen island. Something needed to be done.”
“When did you get here over the summer?” Kirin asked, and she glanced over at him.
“I didn’t say I got here over the summer.”
“Laurel mentioned you were here all summer.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see you around.”
“Oh yeah, she moved in like a week after the spring semester ended,” Harper said around her mouthful of ravioli. “Not that we ever saw her. She was practically camped out in the library.”
“Taking eighteen credits over the summer,” Ainsley commented, nodding while twirling her spaghetti, her bright eyes lifting to Rose’s. “Such a power move.”
“Eighteen credits? During summer? Are you a masochist?” Kirin murmured in her ear. Goose bumps broke out across her skin.
Then he was gone, his hand off her knee as he slid his empty bowl onto the coffee table.
He took her empty one out of her frozen hands, sliding it beside his before leaning back into the couch.
He curled his hand around her right thigh, pulling it up so her legs draped over his knee.
Then he slid his hand up and down her bare leg to the edge of her shorts.
“Okay, let’s just focus on the monstrosity that is this show,” she grumbled and crossed her arms, leaning away from Kirin as they all laughed softly.
Thankfully, nobody said anything else until Kirin whispered, “Why eighteen credits?”
“Not all my credits transferred. I had to finish a certain number of credits to be eligible to be a junior at the start of the semester.” She shrugged because it wasn’t like she had any choice.
She wasn’t delaying her graduation by a year, and she wanted to move into Montgomery with the seniority on the team.
The screen showed a bunch of people running around an island, and asked, “What is this show? This is madness.”
She saw Kirin nod from the corner of her eye. “Oh, it one-hundred percent is. Speaking of madness. Eighteen seems like a lot, no?”
“It’s not like I took them all at the same time—two classes for the four-week session and another four during the eight-week session. Two of those were online, which helped.” When his brows rose a little, she finished with, “I’d already taken similar classes. I was busy, but it was worth it.”
She’d spent a few hours on the phone with her transfer advisor, figuring out how to get all the classes she needed to be classified as a junior while hoping she would finish before the preseason.
Ultimately, she needed too many classes before fall to take them all during the first four-week session, so her mom helped her pack and drove her from Arizona to Wisconsin to ensure she was prepared.
Preseason was a bit of a headache, but her professors accommodated her, a blessing she thought she’d have to beg and plead for.
“You didn’t go home? You came here straight from Westmont?” Kirin asked quietly, his attention on the screen.
“I did my spring semester online from Arizona,” she answered automatically and then stiffened.
Shit.
Slowly, so damn slowly, Kirin’s gaze moved from the screen to her, and she swallowed her dread.
She pulled her legs away from him and tucked them under her.
Don’t ask. She repeated it in her mind, holding his gaze and praying he would let it go.
The questions were there, but then he looked back at the screen.
“So answer me this,” Kirin whispered, using her curled position to pull her more firmly into his side so their heads were close enough to talk more privately.
A barely audible squeak escaped from between her lips at the sudden change.
Neither of her roommates looked over, though she caught Ainsley flinch like she was actively avoiding looking their way.
Kirin’s silent laughter and shaking told her he heard, too.
His body heat pressed into her. She forced a few smooth breaths through her lips, trying to relax.
“Sure,” she answered on a breath without looking away from the screen. Harper and Ainsley were way too focused on the show, both of them near statues on either side of her and Kirin. In the show, one contestant swam through the pond, trying to get to the raft of supplies before her competitors.
“Harper is a younger sibling, probably the only girl in her family. And Ainsley is an only child. Am I right?” he whispered.
When she looked at him, surprised at the change of subject, she found him a lot closer than she expected. “How’d you know?”
He gave her a slow smile. “They defer to you. It’s adorable.”
“Curse of being the eldest daughter. Harper is indeed the youngest of five and the only girl. Her parents are diplomats; she’s the only one not in politics, law, or the military—the shame of the family, according to her.
” She let out a quiet laugh. “Ainsley was raised by her grandparents. She doesn’t talk about it, but I know her grandpa taught her everything about sports. ”
She sighed, and his mouth softened as he whispered, “And therefore they defer to you.”
Her brows knit. “What do you mean?”
“You talk about them like they’re your sisters, like you love them.” Her cheeks heated, burning hot as she glanced away. The show was still frustratingly bizarre, with people trying to get their cakes to bake properly over a single burner.
“You’re the eldest,” she breathed back eventually, trying to keep her voice low as Harper and Ainsley whisper-hissed their admonishments about the contestants’ questionable choices. “Do your friends defer to you?”