Love Under Quarantine

Only Evan doesn’t seem to be doing that. He just nods, expression serene. “Okay. Great. It’s good that you have a job that you love and are passionate about. I’ve never read a romance, so I can’t really comment. But it seems like you’re seriously devoted…that’s all you can hope for with a career, right?”

“Right.” So maybe I went straight to DEFCON one somewhat unnecessarily on this particular occasion. For various reasons, his opinions of me and my work apparently matter. Interesting. I stare off into space, pondering this unwelcome development. My stomach takes this opportunity to grumble loudly.

“You’re starving, aren’t you?” he asks with a chuckle. “You’re staring at my grill like it’s your long-lost lover and I could have sworn I heard that stomach growl all the way over here.” He clanks the tongs together astutely.

“I may or may not have been existing only on candy for the past twenty-four hours.”

“Candy? Sadie, we can do better than that. All of that sugar is bad for you.” His brow is pinched together, and his head is cocked to the side as he stares me up and down. “Explains the curves though.” He grins wickedly.

“As you just experienced, I apparently need all the sweetness I can get. And these curves are fine, thank you very much!” I put my hands on my rounded hips. Are they getting bigger? No? I’ve been doing yoga and running in place to keep awake. I frown.

He laughs heartily. A girl could get addicted to that sound. All deep and low and inviting. Everything in my stomach flips at the noise. My center is once again aching and wet and it’s all his fault. It’s disconcerting how easily he gets me hot and bothered. One salacious word, a lustful look, a sexy laugh, and I’m a goner. Surprises me how much I want to please him. Because you could say it’s just me recognizing that in these shitty times human interactions matter more than ever. Whether I was out here on the balcony yesterday or not, he was foremost on my mind all damn day.

The whole Evan/Eamon conundrum. When your muse and hero live so close to home it’s a little scary, to be honest. Not only am I making up rude and intimate scenarios involving the man in my mind, but I’m committing them to the page. And boy, are they explicit and filled with emotions. Social distancing on this particular occasion may not save my poor heart. Only enhance the chance of future breakage. I don’t want to be disappointed again. Please not so soon after Sean.

It’s depressing as all heck when an affair blows up in your face like that. Especially when it’s your own damn fault for ignoring the warning signs. Like almost falling asleep at the dinner table because he’s tedious as fuck. Like allowing someone who is supposed to care about you to sideline and belittle your career. And that reminds me, I need to stop dwelling on my ex.

Life would be easier if Evan was just another gym junkie himbo. Except he’s isn’t. He’s not only hot, but he’s funny and entertaining and sexy and many other things I’m still discovering.

Houston, we have a problem. I am officially experiencing feelings and I don’t like it. Make. It. Stop.

Meanwhile, Evan is loading up a plate with a huge steak, a giant cob of corn topped with butter, and half of the large container of potato salad which was sitting on the small outdoor table. The plate is heaped, bowing beneath this mighty load of assorted food stuffs. They don’t even serve meals this big in Texas.

“Wow. Do you really eat that much?” I ask, eyes wide with wonder. “Where does it all go?”

“No, this one’s for you. I’ll leave it outside your door.” He picks up a set of cutlery neatly wrapped in a paper napkin. The man is going all out with this.

“Evan, that’s very kind, but you’ve got like half a cow on that plate. There’s no way I’m going to be able to eat all of that.”

“So put the rest in the fridge for later.”

“I do have food in the apartment, you know. You don’t have to feed me.”

“It’s not a big deal. I cooked too much anyway,” he says, halving part of the bowl full of green leaves on top of the monster meal. The man is like Martha Stewart on a mission.

“But…” I try to find anything I can say that will sway him, but really, it looks so good that my mouth is already salivating.

“Let me guess. You were going to eat some crappy microwave meal? Or maybe have a bowl of sugar-coated cereal.” He grimaces.

“I’ll have you know that eating cereal outside of breakfast time is one of the true joys of being an adult. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Repeatedly.”