Nemesis(25)

It feels nice for someone to go out of their way to make you feel special. There’s nothing like it, I don’t think. Actions speak louder than words, and his tell me that he cares about me in his own Cohen way. It’s the small things that count.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he says, turning and kissing my mouth. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of wine to drink while I sort out dinner.”

He pours me a glass, then lifts me onto his counter to drink it, supervising his cooking. Or grilling, at least. When I see him pulling out some beetroot, I know he really has been paying attention to the things I like.

“Impressive,” I mutter, bringing the glass to my lips and taking a sip. It’s delicious.

Over the last month, Cohen and I have spent several nights every week with each other, and we still have lunch together every day. I haven’t asked him about other women, and he hasn’t asked me about other men. We’ve just been enjoying each other, not really worrying about anything else. Does it feel like a relationship to me? Yes. But I’m not going to say that out loud, because I think it’s going to have Cohen running for the hills. He told me that he and his ex-girlfriend Bianca didn’t have a good breakup, and they were together for four years. I’m sure that it’s whatever happened there that has him so scared of commitment, the reason why his walls are ten feet high.

I understand, I do; it’s a scary thing to be vulnerable, to give someone else the power to hurt you. It’s scary to everyone though. Hearts get broken every day, but there are some loves that last forever, and that’s what everyone is hoping for, but not what most get. Divorce rates are high, it seems like everyone is just doing the casual sex thing right now. Having sex first and asking questions later.

Times have changed, and everyone is adapting, I suppose. I mean, here I am, a closet hopeless romantic, also doing the casual sex thing. Sure, Cohen treats me like a girlfriend, but I’m not one. Does it really matter what I am if I get treated as such though? At the end of the day, it really is just a label.

Fuck, I’ve been hanging around Cohen way too long.

When he’s finished, we both sit at his table and eat together.

“This is the best burger I’ve ever had,” I tell him after I swallow the first bite. And it is—because he made it.

He smirks and pops a fry in his mouth. “It’s cute that you care enough to lie and tell me that.”

I roll my eyes, smiling. “It is. And how come we’ve never come to your house before now?”

His eyes widen at the question, and I notice he chews and swallows his bite a lot slower than need be. “I don’t usually bring women back here.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, brow furrowing. “You usually just go to their houses and don’t bring anyone back here?”

He nods.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “It’s my private space. I guess, I just usually don’t bring anyone here.”

“Then why did you bring me?” I push him a little. Does he realise he’s making it sound like I’m different to him? It’s giving me hope, and I don’t need hope unless he really is considering changing his non-dating rules for me.

He clears his throat. “I just felt like it was time, I don’t know. We’ve been seeing each other for over a month now.”

So now we’re ‘seeing each other’.

Interesting.

“Well, I’m glad you brought me here,” I say, saving him for having to explain any more.

He exhales in relief and continues to finish eating. I wonder what happened to him to make him this way, so closed off. It’s like he can shut his emotions off like a switch, which isn’t a good thing. It means he can easily cut people out of his life without looking back—like me, for example. It means that people are easily replaceable to him. The thought of him replacing me hurts.

No, it kills.

Burns.

After dinner, even though I’m full, I make room for the chocolate cake.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, then moan. “You need to tell me where this bakery is.”

“It’s good, right?” Cohen says, eyes darkening as a lick my fork.

“Good? It’s f*cking amazing. It’s like an orgasm in your mouth,” I say, taking another bite. “How did you find this place?”

“My cousin owns it,” he states proudly, putting his own fork down and just watching me eat. “Bella can make any dessert you want, she’s so talented. Her husband Silas is a lawyer, and an ex MMA fighter. He helps her run the business.”

“Sounds amazing,” I say, impressed. “If all her desserts are as delicious as this cake, I see myself gaining a lot of weight in the future.”

Cohen flashes his teeth at me. “Don’t worry, we’ll be working it off. Together.”

“You haven’t even been going to the gym recently, is that why? Getting enough exercise as it is?” I tease, finishing the last of the cake.

“Yes,” he says, laughing. “I haven’t had the time, really. I’ve been going a few times a week, but I used to go every day. Why, seeing the difference in my body?”

“I don’t know, ” I reply, reaching out and touching his rock-hard six-pack through his t-shirt. “Yeah, maybe it is getting a little soft.”