83. Hannah

EIGHTY-THREE

"Hannah, hold the door!"

I almost groan out loud at the sound of Brandon's voice because, really, I don't want to hold the door open for him. But I do because even he can't ruin the overall feeling of happiness that has settled over me.

"Thanks," Brandon heaves the word like he just finished a 5K.

"No problem" is what I say, but "Go away" is what I think.

Donut Guy is at his table, and Roberts is filling up his coffee thermos as we cross the break room.

I shift my container of leftover casserole into my left hand and pull the fridge open with my right.

Once the door is already open, Brandon— who is now completely crowding my personal space— pulls the door open farther so he can grab one of his nasty energy drinks from the shelf in the door.

Yeah, please, barge right in.

As I reach to put my food on the shelf, there's already a glass container in the spot I usually put my lunch.

And then I freeze. Because there's a Post-it, with my name on it, stuck to the lid of the container in the fridge.

Brandon finally steps back, and I shift closer to look through the clear sides of the dish.

I swallow and set my casserole on top of the dish containing the lemon butter noodles and grilled chicken.

Last night, Maddox and I sat on a video call for an hour while he grilled chicken breasts and made a batch of the same lemony pasta he cooked for our movie date.

It's become our evening norm.

My family tends to eat earlier than he does, so after I'm done with dinner, Maddox calls, and I lounge while he cooks and eats his dinner.

It's… God, it's everything.

It's the phone calls we missed.

It's the evening version of the long-distance relationship we weren't allowed to try.

It's a way to spend time together, to talk, without being interrupted by the overwhelming need to touch each other.

It's torture. And it's exactly what I need.

"Forget your food from last week?" Brandon asks from next to me.

I blink and shut the fridge door. "Yeah. Threw me off for a second," I joke.

Brandon looks at the fridge, then back to me, like he's sensing the lie.

I move around him to the mug cupboard and take my time selecting one.

My call with Maddox last night made me forget all about my promise to check on my job applications. Which was foolish, because I need to get out of here so we can properly date each other.

I'm the last one you'll ever have.

Maddox knows all the right things to say.

And I could cry just from picturing him with Chelsea this past weekend, in their glasses, shit talking some kid's science fair project the whole ride home from the game.

It was literally the second time they met, and they acted like—

I pull down the handmade yellow mug Maddox used the time he made me coffee.

They acted like family.

If anyone can break the curse, it's gotta be him.

"You're acting weird." Brandon is back at my side. "Are you alright?"

Oh my god, go away.

"Just haven't had my coffee yet," I lie, since I had a cup at home this morning.

He hums and leans against the counter. The opposite of leaving.

"Do anything fun this weekend?" Brandon asks.

"Yeah, I went to a baseball game."

"The Kids game?"

I nod.

"Didn't we lose?" he asks, like that makes the difference on enjoying a game or not.

I shrug. "It was still a fun time."

He's quiet for a second as I pour my coffee.

"Who'd you go with?"

I pause as I put the pot back in its place.

It's not like it's that weird of a question. But it's kinda weird. Though it gives me an opportunity to try and set some boundaries.

"Chelsea and I went with a bunch of people from her school." I pull a spoon out of the drawer. "And my boyfriend came with us."

"You have a boyfriend?" Brandon's whole body shifts back like I just told him I'm a werewolf.

"Hannah." A voice richer than Brandon's speaks from behind me.

I turn to face the boyfriend in question.

"Morning," I say, more softly than I mean to.

Maddox holds up the carton of half-and-half I forgot to take out of the fridge when I put my lunch in there.

"Need this?"

I take it from him, trying not to smile too hard over the creamer. "Thanks."

Turning back to the counter, I pour some into my mug, then stir the contents around.

Brandon is standing there, looking back and forth between us. But instead of addressing him, Maddox holds his hand out to take the creamer back.

"I got that."

Since I don't really want to have to shuffle between him and Brandon, I hand Maddox the carton.

He inclines his head. "Have a nice morning."

"You too." I pick up my coffee, biting down on my lip.

I'm walking away when Maddox speaks again.

"Brandon. A word."