Ch48

NOVA

I turn away before either of them can say anything else and head for the kitchen.

I need food. Or water. Or a new family. Honestly, at this point, I'll take whatever is available.

My brother is exhausting and I can vouch that the kitchen will provide me a temporary escape for the next couple of minutes.

I pull out the ingredients for my meal and set them on the counter, grabbing a chopping board and a knife.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

Maybe if I focus on the vegetables, I'll stop thinking about everything else.

Fat chance.

I hear footsteps behind me, and a moment later, Enzo's reflection appears in the doorway. I glance at him before letting out a sigh.

"Don't be mad at him." He says, folding his arms.

I turn back to the chopping board. "I'm not mad at him."

"Nova."

I take a breath. "I said I'm not."

He leans against the kitchen doorway, crossing his arms over his chest.

I give him a look. "Okay, fine. Maybe I am a little mad at him."

"Why?"

"You know why. And also because he's really annoying. And I know I'm being a hypocrite, okay?" I set the knife down and turn to face him.

"Well, when you put it like that..."

Not helping.

I hate it here.

I turn back to my vegetables.

"It just feels like he's forcing himself to talk to me because he sees that we're cool now," I explain. "Like, suddenly, we're supposed to be best friends again because you forgave me. And I know that's what I wanted, but..."

"But?"

I shrug, reaching for another tomato. "I don't know."

Enzo pushes away from the doorway. "Nova. Look at me."

I sigh dramatically before turning around. He stands a few feet away, watching me. "He's trying, and you're trying."

"I know."

"So maybe you could both stop making it so fucking difficult."

"God, you're annoying," I mutter.

Enzo grins, stepping closer. "What do you want me to do?"

I blink. "What?"

"To get rid of the stress. What do you want me to do?"

I stare at him for a moment, trying to determine whether he's serious. He's looking at me like he genuinely expects an answer.

I shrug. "Whatever?"

His eyebrows rise. "Whatever?"

"Yes, Enzo. Whatever. I'm too stressed to come up with a detailed list of instructions for you."

"That's fair."

He moves closer. I take an instinctive step backward. He follows. "Enzo, what are you doing?" My back meets the wall.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Because now he's standing directly in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head to look at him, and I'm suddenly very aware that the kitchen is no longer nearly big enough to accommodate the two of us.

He places his hands on either side of me against the wall, trapping me between his arms.

I gasp.

"Enzo! What are you doing?"

He looks down at me, his mouth twitching. "You said whatever."

"I didn't mean..."

He dips his head, brushing his nose against my hair as he takes a quiet breath, his face lingering close to mine. My heart immediately forgets how to function.

"Enzo," I whisper.

"Hmm?"

I glance toward the kitchen entrance. "Noah's home."

"I know."

"He can walk in here at any time."

"I know, Nova."

"Then stop."

"You're stressed."

"I'm going to be fine," I tell him.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

He smiles, ignores me and then he leans down and presses a quick kiss to my lips. A peck. Barely a second long. When he pulls back, I stare at him.

"What was that for?" I ask.

His hands settle on my waist, moving in slow, soothing circles over the fabric of my shirt.

I should probably tell him to stop.

I really should.

Instead, I find myself watching his face, my fingers curling loosely into the front of his shirt.

He tilts his head.

"Does that ease any tension?"

I press my lips together, trying very hard not to smile.

"A little."

"A little?"

"Don't push it."

He grins.

"Okay."

Then he leans down and kisses the tip of my nose.

I blink. "Enzo!" I mutter as he presses kisses down my neck. It feels tickly. I don't know when a laugh slips out of me A real laugh. And the second I realize it, I try to stop, which only makes him smile wider.

"There she is," he murmurs.

I look up at him. "What?"

"That smile." He brushes his thumb over my waist. "I haven't seen it today."

For a moment, I don't know what to say.

"Okay," I mumble, suddenly shy. "Get off me."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Get off you?"

"Yes."

"After all the hard work I've put into your stress management?"

"Enzo, please."

"Fine. I'm just saying, I think I deserve a little appreciation."

I press both hands against his chest and push. He laughs, straightening immediately and stepping away from me. "There. Happy?"

"Very."

"You're welcome."

I smooth down my shirt and give him a look.

"What did you think you were doing?"

"Helping."

"By pinning me against a wall!"

He laughs, and I grab the chopping knife again, mostly to give my hands something to do besides reach for him. Because apparently, my self-control has decided to take the day off. I turn back to the counter and resume cutting the vegetables. Behind me, I hear him moving around the kitchen.

Then he asks, "Can I help?"

I pause. Slowly, I turn my head.

He's standing beside the counter, looking at the ingredients with interest.

I watch him for a second. Then I ask, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He stops. It's a simple question, but something about the way his expression changes makes me wish I'd phrased it differently.

He sets the bowl down. "Because I want to be."

I swallow. "Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

I hesitate, looking down at the vegetables. "Earlier, you were talking about how you wanted to make things right with me. And now you're doing all these things, and I just..." I trail off.

He tilts his head slightly. "Isn't this what you wanted? You wanted me to be honest with you. You wanted me to stop acting like I didn't care. You wanted me to stop treating you like you were just Noah's little sister."

"And now I'm trying to do that," he says. "I'm trying to show you that I care about you, and you're looking at me like I've suddenly grown a second head."

"It's just... I like it. This." I gesture vaguely between us. "You being nice to me. You asking if I'm okay. You wanting to help. All of it. Don't make a big deal out of it," I add quickly. "I'm just saying..."

"I like that you do."

I roll my eyes, but I can't stop smiling. He reaches for the bowl again, and I hand him the chopped vegetables.

"Here. Since you're so determined to be useful."

He accepts it with a nod. He starts transferring the vegetables into the bowl, and I return to the stove to check the pot. For a moment, we work in silence.

Then he says, "You know, we could do this more often."

I glance at him. "Cook?"

"Spend time together."

My hand stills over the stove. He looks at me, suddenly seeming a little less certain of himself.

"Not necessarily here," he adds. "I mean, obviously, we can cook here. But we could go out, too. Get something to eat. Watch a movie. Whatever you want."

I look at him for a long moment. "Like a date?"

His eyes meet mine. "If that's what you want to call it."

My stomach does a little flip. "You're asking me on a date?"

"I'm suggesting that I would like to spend time with you somewhere that doesn't involve your brother, my mother, or someone threatening to expose us."

I laugh. "When you put it like that, it sounds romantic."

"I try."

I shake my head, smiling down at the stove. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, Enzo. We can go on a date." And just as I'm about to say something else, a voice rings out from the kitchen entrance.

"Well, this is interesting."

We both freeze. I turn quickly, I knock my elbow against the pot.

Mom stands in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, her handbag hanging from her shoulder. Her gaze moves from me to Enzo. Then to the bowl of vegetables in his hands. Then back to me.

A slow smile spreads across her face. "Oh," she says. "Am I interrupting something?"