Into Your Arms (Squad Stories #1)(44)

"Bye, Tobi, I'll see you tomorrow!" I shut the door before she can say anything else. I don't like people bugging me about Rhett. We've gotten more than a few appraising looks at practice and I've heard whispers, which I have ignored. What I do and don't do with Rhett is no one's business. They can kiss my round ass. 

I rush home and am just about to hop in the shower when I get a call from my parents. After a few seconds of staring at the phone, I let it go to voicemail.

They must know why I'm here. They were the ones who had the paperwork stashed away. What were the chances that I'd up and randomly move to the same state they adopted me from? And they never said a word about it. I didn't tell them and we never talked about it. I'm pretty sure they've probably forgotten that I exist for the most part.

It doesn't matter. They were never my family. Things never felt right with them and I always wondered why. I thought it was because I wasn't smart enough, or quiet enough, or just right enough. Well, right for them.

I push thoughts of my parents aside and get in the shower so I can go see Rhett. I completely and totally ignore the little flutters in my stomach that I get when I think about spending time with him. He's just Rhett. Just . . .

Amazing. Attractive. Annoying.

I turn on the radio and sing along with a crappy pop song, as if that will make me forget about Rhett. I've stopped bothering to knock when I come here, so I walk in to find him whistling in the kitchen, stirring a pot of something.

"How do you feel about wonton soup?" he asks.

"Love it," I say, dropping the bag full of salad fixings. I've loved everything he's made. It's too bad he can't help kids and be a chef at the same time, but the former is much more important. He makes me feel like a bad human sometimes. That I should be doing more to help the world.

"What do you want to watch tonight? They added a bunch of new movies on Netflix if you wanna go check." Sitting on Rhett's couch and just vegging out is my new favorite thing. It's doing nothing, but it doesn't feel wrong. It feels like exactly what I need.

"Sure, after I make the best salad you've ever eaten." I pull out a bag of organic lettuce. I spent a massive amount of money on the vegetables in this bag, so he better appreciate it.

"Oh, really? I'm looking forward to that. What makes it so special?" he asks as I pull out a cutting board and a knife and a big bowl.

"That's for me to know and you to find out." I know I'm being flirty with him, but I'm hormonal and I can't help it. Sometimes I slip. So sue me.

"Did you bring croutons? You can't have an amazing salad without croutons," he says, dropping the handmade wontons in the pot of broth.

"What am I, some kind of amateur?" I hold up the bag of fancy croutons, and he gives me a thumbs up. We lapse into silence as I chop and he minds the soup.

"So here's a question for you," he says.

"Uh-huh," I say as I carefully chop a red pepper so the bits are uniform. Okay, so I'm not a good cook. I usually buy my salads pre-made because I'm lazy. I guess I just wanted to impress Rhett. He's so good at everything that it's infuriating, and it's going to give me a complex.

"What do you think about maybe doing something with me this weekend? Outside. Or at least in a different location than my apartment." I stop chopping. I agreed to this, but so far, I've been so cozy and safe at his apartment since there's no one here to stare at us, or wonder if we're a couple. I knew he was going to bring this up at some point, but I'd been kind of hoping it would be a while.

"That depends. What is it?"



       
         
       
        

He chuckles and the sound goes right to my lady parts. Rhett has to stop laughing in my presence. It makes things difficult.

"I'm not sure yet. But I have some ideas." He grins at me, and I swallow a whimper. I can't handle him when he looks like that. What is wrong with me tonight?

Probably that especially vivid dream that I had about him that woke me up several times and ended in me having to get myself off a few times before going running, which was just a joy.

"I don't like your ideas, Rhett Miller. Your ideas are trouble." His smile gets even more smirky, and I have to turn away. Is it warm in here?

Concentrating on my salad. Focusing on my salad. Gotta chop the carrots. Chopping carrots . . .

"You're going to cut yourself," his voice says right behind me. I bet if I back up, I'm going to bang right into him.

Lol, bang.

Get a grip, Freya.

I close my eyes and take a breath.

And then he reaches around me to position my hand on the carrot, curling my fingers in.