19. Ronan

I'm totally out of my element here. I don't know what's happening to me. I've had hookups in the past. Short flings. No big deal. They served a purpose until they ran their course.

But for whatever reason, meeting Fletcher's friend Josh last night has left me spinning. I've never felt jealousy in my life, but there's no denying that's exactly what I felt when stupid Josh opened his stupid mouth and talked about fucking my Fletcher.

My Fletcher.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I'm going to start beating my chest and chanting "mine" soon.

This is absolutely ridiculous. And I couldn't keep my hands off him last night. We wound up in a mess of sweat and cum, collapsed on his bed before I convinced him to come and shower with me. Making another mess as we ground our cocks together until we were both crying out with yet another release.

We wound back up in his bed, but when I woke up to disturbing thoughts of him and stupid Josh in the middle of the night, I wound up waking him up too. My mouth on him brought him to his third orgasm of the night before we passed the hell out.

I had some work to do today, so I reluctantly pried myself away from him this morning. But he's coming over to my place this evening, and my heart is racing with the anticipation of seeing him as I prepare dinner for us.

I don't know what the hell is happening to me.

But it doesn't stop me from practically racing to the door as soon as I hear the doorbell ring and flinging it open. Fletcher's warm smile greets me, and I yank him inside, barely managing to get the door closed before my mouth is on his.

He kisses me back, but only for a moment before he pulls back, a mischievous grin on his handsome face. "Missed me, huh?"

I'm sure he's expecting me to argue, but I can't seem to. "I think I did."

He looks surprised, blinking in shock, before he laughs. "I knew I'd grow on you."

"Mm-hmm," I murmur halfheartedly, even though it's kind of true. How the hell it happened, I'm not sure, but I'd be lying if I said I've thought about anything else today. My thoughts were consumed with Fletcher. "Help me in the kitchen?"

His smile is so damn bright, it's nearly blinding, but he follows me into the kitchen, not saying another word. We fall seamlessly into making a salad together, cutting up fresh vegetables and putting them in the bowl.

"You know..." He chops up a tomato, adding most of it to the salad, but popping a piece into his mouth and chewing it as his eyes meet mine. "I missed you too."

I want to mock him for that, but damn it, it does something really funny to my insides. I don't know what the hell he's doing to me, and before I can say anything, I hear a notification on his phone.

He reaches into his pocket and grins. A moment of unwelcome, nearly shocking jealousy spreads through me. Please don't be stupid Josh who's making him smile like that.

I don't look.

And I don't ask.

I stand there like an idiot as he types something on his phone and then places it on the counter. When he looks over at me, I don't look away fast enough, and he knows I was watching him.

"My sister, Bree," he supplies, and a whoosh of relief goes through me. Wow. This is really getting out of hand.

"She's shopping with my mom but sent me a picture of my dad carrying their shopping bags." The fond smile on his face is a glimpse into the real Fletcher. The one he hid with his arrogant bravado for so long.

"You all are really close."

He goes back to chopping tomatoes. "We are."

"You going to be okay when she goes to New York?" I don't know why I'm asking. Honestly, we should have skipped dinner and just gone right to the bedroom. Keep it simple and easy. Just sex for this summer loophole.

But I want to know more about him. I crave it. Which is a total mindfuck.

I watch him, though, and his face morphs into that cocky fuckboy smile I really don't miss. "Of course I will."

"Don't do that." And again, why the hell am I going on? I should just drop it. Summer flings don't care about you hiding your feelings.

"Do what?" he asks, and his fake smile almost slips.

"You don't have to hide your feelings from me." Shit. Shit. Shit.

Yes, he does. He should. He should run, damn it. I should run. Feelings. Yuck.

He looks like he's going to argue with me, and part of me is cheering him on to do just that. Tell me feelings are gross, Fletcher. Say you don't have them. That this is just sex and I need to chill.

Sadly, though, he doesn't say any of those things to drag me back to reality. "I'm not hiding. I'll be fine." I just stare at him, waiting for the rest of it because there's more to it, and we both know it. Apparently, I care. Damn him. So I wait. And then he huffs, "Fine. I'm so damn happy for her. So happy. But we've never been that far apart since we met. I used to panic when she got placed somewhere over two miles from me, and now, she's going to fucking New York. I'm freaking out a lot about it."

I offer him a gentle smile. "Was that so hard?"

He tosses a crouton at me, and I catch it with my hand and pop it into my mouth. "Yes, it was," he answers with another haughty little huff.

"It really will be okay, you know?"

He sighs and then nods. "Yeah. She's so damn excited. I can't help but feel happy for her. She's tough too."

The oven timer goes off, and I start to remove the chicken, but I'm still focused on Fletcher. "Tell me about her?"

He looks momentarily surprised but then recovers quickly. "Bree's the strongest woman I know, besides my mom. She doesn't take shit from anyone, but she's the first to offer help to anyone who needs it. I think Rhett and I always thought we needed to take care of her, but looking back, it was always Bree who took care of us."

I place the pan on the stovetop and turn off the oven, turning to look over at Fletcher, who's so damn beautiful doing nothing but standing in my kitchen, wearing his ridiculous tank top and shorts. "Sounds like you all took care of each other. It couldn't have been easy in foster care," I say grimly, my own demons threatening to come back up.

And I think he notices because his eyes turn almost stormy as he approaches me. "When are you going to tell me something about you?"

Well shit. This whole wanting to know more about him thing really backfired, didn't it?

"You know plenty of somethings about me," I try, turning away and grabbing two plates from the cupboard.

"Really?"

My shoulders drop, and I turn around to look at him. "What do you want from me, Fletcher?" I ask quietly because I know deep down what he wants.

"You know everything about me. I mean, everything. Things I really don't talk about. Things I don't tell anyone. I've let you see the real me, but you haven't shown me anything." He drops his hands to my hips, looking right into my eyes and not backing down, but there's a gentleness in his gaze. "Just give me something. Anything at all. I know it's just for the summer or whatever," he says softly, and I can hear the sad disappointment in his words, which slashes my heart right open. "But just something."

"Fine." I try to think of something I can tell him. Something no one else knows. My gut turns, and darkness starts to take over, my knees starting to go weak. But I push it away. Nope. I'm not going there.

Fletcher drops his hands from my hips and gives me a sad little nod. "Okay. Dinner."

That plastic fake smile is back on his face, and I hate it so damn much, I blurt out, "I'm terrified of potatoes."

He was facing away from me, probably getting the salad to take to the table, but he stops and then slowly turns around. "What?"

"I know it sounds dumb, but it's a legit fear. Not really potatoes, but those white gross..." I almost gag, just thinking about them. I wave my hand, trying to push the visual out of my head. "I can't do it. I hate when they start growing that shit on them."

He's watching me closely, one eyebrow raised. "Are you messing with me?"

"No. I swear," I say honestly. "I've never told another soul about it because I know I'll get teased relentlessly, but I swear it's true. I don't even keep potatoes in the house. If I want potatoes for dinner, I have to buy them that day, in person, after examining them, and if I don't use them, I toss them."

A slow smile takes over his face, and then he lets out a quick, small laugh. "Sorry." He schools his reaction and walks closer to me. "Thank you for trusting me with your secret."

I cup his face in my hands and look into his blue orbs. "I want to tell you more. I do," I say, pain creeping up in my chest, just thinking about anything deeper than my very real fear of rotting potatoes.

He leans forward, my hands still on his face, and presses a kiss to my lips. "Thank you."

I smile against his lips, and he kisses me again before we part to have dinner in my dining room.

He seems content, but I still hate that I couldn't let him in.

But I also hate that I really, really wanted to.

It's just for the summer.