23. Reese

One of the best things about my job is the commute. My apartment is four blocks from the bank.

I watched the rain come down all day, but it let up just in time for my walk home. I swap my heels for sneakers and step outside, filling my nose with the smell of fresh rain and wet leaves. The days are getting shorter. Today, the sun is just settling below the buildings that make up main street. By next week, it will probably be pitch dark at this time. I take my time walking, enjoying the cool air, the way the setting sun spills gold over the wet sidewalks.

My face is tipped up, searching for rainbows in the misty sky, so I don’t see him right off the bat. I notice his truck first, because it’s huge. And silver.

And then I see him leaning up against it.

My first thought is my memory never does his beauty justice.

My second thought is that he’s got to be getting soaked, leaning up against his wet truck like that.

He’s looking the other way, but then he turns, spotting me. For a second, I forget how to walk. Then he’s pushing off his truck, closing the distance, and I make my feet take step after step.

I always thought he was a handsome guy. All of Bo’s friends are gorgeous. But now that I know what his lips taste like, how feverish his skin feels under my hands, it’s almost more than I can handle.

The whole point of coming to Skyler for sex education was to get rid of my anxiety and instead, he’s unleashed a legion of butterflies in my tummy.

We stop in front of each other and he just scans my face. I lift my chin and stare right back, determined to stand strong against those rugged good looks.

Those warm brown eyes.

The clothes that are clinging to his damp body.

“You’re wet.”

He looks down at himself and huffs a laugh. “Yeah. I went to an outdoor auction today.”

“Come on.”

I sidestep him. “I think I’ve got a pair of Josh’s sweatpants floating around somewhere.”

He follows me, and I try not to shiver at the thought of him following right behind. God, I’ve got it bad.

Opening the door, the scent of beef stew swirls out.

I’m mentally congratulating myself for making the extra effort to start the slow cooker this morning before I left for work.

I didn’t even know about the rain at the time, but it feels like the perfect, cozy answer to a dreary day.

Depositing him in the living room, I overturn a few moving boxes until I find the olive green sweats I borrowed and never returned.

Skyler unfurls the pants and looks up at me. “Why do you have Josh’s sweatpants?”

“Failed Halloween costume idea.”

I say, moving to the kitchen to put the teakettle on the stove.

He peels his shirt off, laying it down on the kitchen island. “What were you going to be?”

“Kim Possible.”

My voice comes out breathier than intended.

“Who’s Kim Possible?”

I watch, transfixed, as he struggles out of his soggy, clingy jeans. “A Disney character. Doesn’t matter.”

He chuckles. “Most girls usually just go as a bunny or a naughty angel, you know.”

“Fully aware.”

I cough out, turning as he starts to peel off his boxers. “I was going for clever, not sexy.”

“So, what did you end up going as?”

I hazard a backward glance.

He’s fully dressed.

Half-way dressed, technically.

That broad chest is still on full display, but it’s a step in the right direction.

I gather up his wet clothes and carry them to the linen closet.

Turning the dial on the drier, I find myself remembering that Halloween.

Jonah and I argued over that costume.

He said I was exposing too much of my belly.

I ended up feeling fat and choosing to stay home.

Not a pleasant memory.

I turn back, getting an eyeful of Skyler in those same pants. It’s kind of nice to have something beautiful to overwrite a bad memory with.

I return to the kitchen, taking in his expectant face. He still wants a response, but I don’t want to share the entire story. “I didn’t go out that year.”

“You got to work on your stories, Olson. That ending was a bummer.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

He sits on the stool. “What glorious thing are you cooking?”

“Beef stew.”

He shakes his head with a little smile, inordinately impressed by my cooking abilities. “You’re going to make some man very happy one day.”

Why does he sound a little sad when he says that?

“Did you miss the memo about my freedom quest? I’m not trying to get married.”

“I said one day.”

“Fair enough.”

I lean on the counter across from him, turning halfway when the teakettle starts whistling. “You want some tea?”

He grins. “Got anything stronger?”