Boss of Me

As we ride the elevator, I watch her lacing and unlacing her fingers. I think about those fingers on my shoulders yesterday, holding onto me as we swam, pulling me closer when we kissed. My eyes flicker to her glossy lips, and I want to kiss her again.

Her blue eyes blink up, and she seems nervous. “I didn’t mean to make you cook for me.”

“You didn’t fight me too hard.” Her jaw drops, and I almost laugh. “It’s okay. I enjoy cooking.”

“You are a very unexpected man, you know that?”

“Good.”

The elevator dings and we cross the foyer to the penthouse. I open the door, and she inhales sharply. “It’s gorgeous.”

I have an amazing view of the city and the surrounding mountains. She kicks off her sandals and walks across the dark wood floors past the flat screen television and black leather sofa to the balcony.

For a moment, I stand watching her. Her toenails are painted blue, and I like her bare feet on my wood floors. Her skirt shows off her legs, which are quickly becoming one of my favorite features. I want to walk over to her and wrap her in my arms.

Last night, when I got home after our incident in the lake, I sat for a long time looking out at the lights of the city. I thought about Marley’s question about me being alone. I thought about Taron’s observation. I remembered our kiss and how it affected me. I should be staying away, but I can’t seem to do it.

Why did I invite her to come here? What makes her special?

I like the way she looks at me, the way she challenges me and teases me. She’s playful and fun. She’s sunlight and fresh air. She makes me feel like for the first time in a long time I can let go and simply be. Maybe it’s all an illusion, but when I look at her, it feels real.

I don’t want her to be afraid of me.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Even if I’m afraid it’s inevitable.

“Would you like a drink?”

She looks over her shoulder. “Got any whiskey?”

“I do.” I walk to the kitchen and pull down a bottle of Jameson, pouring us each a shot in tumblers. “Rocks?”

She walks to where I’m standing and takes the glass, giving me a little clink before throwing it back. My eyebrows rise as I watch her. Unexpected.

“Okay.” I lift mine and do the same. It burns slightly going down, but it’s good stuff. “More?”

“Maybe in a minute. Got any water?”

Digging in the fridge, I pull out two bottles of water, buttermilk, eggs, a package of skinless chicken, and hot sauce. “Come over here and help me.”

She takes the bottle of water and twists it open then walks to the other side of the white bar. I place an air fryer in the center of the island and plug it in.

“Healthy.”

“Not all my habits are bad.”

I can’t tell if she’s playing with me, but I’m enjoying this, from her tough-girl whiskey shot to her funny attempts at bossing me around. Reaching into the cabinet, I take out flour, black pepper, brown sugar, and the remaining dry ingredients then turn my back to combine them all in a bowl.

“You really do have everything.”

“I told you, it’s easy to make.”

“Why is your back turned?” She skips around beside me, trying to look over my shoulder. “Is it a secret recipe?”

“Back off.” I put up an elbow, but she’s on her tiptoes, holding my arm.

“I want to see!”