“You were peeping at me for ten minutes? And there you were just a few weeks ago accusing me of being a stalker.”
Kayden opens his mouth to protest but no excuses leave his mouth. I push past him to get inside, grinning as he locks the door behind us.
“So bridesmaids’ dress fitting,” he prods eagerly.
It’s cute that he’s curious about everything that goes on in my life. I oblige him most of the time. But that’s more than I can say about him when I’m the one doing the prodding.
“Yeah, it was a disaster. Beth was there. And that’s all you need to know. I don’t really want to get into the details,”
I say as I fall onto the couch, relieved that I’m home. Kayden follows, making himself comfortable in the available spot beside me. I use the opportunity to shove my phone screen at his face. “But look what Evans just sent me.”
Kayden takes the phone in his grasp, squinting at the screen. “Wow,” he says with a twitch of his lips. “I’m glad they made up. Brent’s a good guy. And they deserve to be happy.”
“Glad to see that you’re easing up on your best friend and brother dating.”
“They’re good for each other,” he notes distinctly. “So you’d really rather not talk about bridesmaids’ dress fitting?
I’ve been hoping for something juicy.”
“Nope. I’m not caving. Deal with it.”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
“How was training today?” I ask instead, clearing a couple of the empty mugs that are strewn across his newly purchased coffee table. I had him pick one up the other day because I was sick of not having a place to eat food when I want to watch TV.
“It was all right,” Kayden answers, crossing his legs casually as he watches me amble to the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink. “Probably would have been better if you were there.”
I turn my head, wearing a funny smile. “You can just admit that you missed me today, you know.”
“All right.” He gives in, staring back at me with an amused smile of his own. “I did miss you. And I’m happy you’re back.”
“Glad to know that I’m appreciated around here,” I say, pretending to wipe sweat off my forehead like I’m really working hard to wash these dishes. “I’m starving. And I’m done with the prep meals. Please make me some fresh food.”
“Fine.” He picks himself up off the couch and joins me in the kitchen. He pries open the refrigerator door and hauls onto one arm several containers of ingredients. He slaps them onto the counter and turns to me. “Today on the menu we have chicken breast, cherry tomatoes, brown rice, and broccoli with minimal seasoning.”
“I hate eating clean with you,” I moan.
“Come. Cook with me.” He gives the sleeve of my shirt a hard tug. “So you can make some yourself when I’m not around.”
“Now why would I do that? You’re my very own personal chef.”
He gives me a real y? look and I sigh, wiping my wet hands on the kitchen towel. I should probably start helping around, since lately he’s been cooking all my meals. To be fair, he’s always the one asking if I need to be fed, and after a full day of classes and a couple of training sessions at either UFG or Breaking Point, I usually jump at the offer.
“Fine. I’ll help,” I say, giving in. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll give you something simple. The only thing you need to do is cook the rice.” He opens the top cabinet and hands me the packet of rice with a knot tied at the top. “I’ll handle everything else.”
Ten minutes later, I’m staring silently at the rice cooking in the tiny pot, waiting for the water to start fizzing with bubbles.
“This is boring.” I pout childishly, my attention moving to Kayden, who has taken the noble task of pan frying the mixture of broccoli and chicken cubes. “Can we put on some music? Give me your phone. I want to judge your Spotify.”
He nods, grunting at the phone he’s left beside the stove. I reach for it, inputting the password he recites to me, and scroll through his playlist. I snort loudly when I see what’s on his most played. “Oh God, Guns N’ Roses? You’re so basic.”
“Says the hardcore Ed Sheeran fan,” he fires back and my body freezes. How does he know that? “Yeah, that’s right.
You’re not very discreet when you sing in the shower.”
“What?” I pretend not to be embarrassed. “‘Shape of You ’ helps me lather, rinse, and repeat.”