Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(36)

“Does anyone want another one?”

Full groans and protests proved I’d made enough omelets to feed an army, but I didn’t want the extra eggs to go to waste. I glanced over my shoulder and paused on the dim light of Erik’s house in the distance. Without a second thought, I turned back to the hot plate and poured some eggs into the pan, adding a mixture of ingredients in the very center.

“No, seriously. I can’t eat another,” Molly said, patting her stomach.

I smiled down at the pan. “It’s not for you.”

“Surely you’re not going to give it to Ju—”

“I bet it’s for Erik,” Lexi said with a laugh. “You’ve got Stockholm syndrome, girl. The man literally tortures you and you make him eggs?”

“Maybe she’s poisoning it,” Molly pointed out.

I rolled my eyes and flipped the omelet in the pan. “I’m not going to kill him. Jeez.”

“Then you really are in love with the guy. He was such a jerk yesterday.”

I straightened my back. “I’m not in love. Haven’t you heard of a peace offering? We have a few more weeks with the guy. There’s no point in fighting with him the whole time.”

Lexi snorted. “You like fighting with him. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

I turned to stare at them over my shoulder, but they avoided my eyes. Even Rosie kept her gaze on her plate, not bothering to protest.

“I’m standing up for myself. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm. Remind me, after Rosa Parks stuck it to that bus driver, did she bake him a soufflé?”

I ignored Lexi and slid the finished product onto a paper plate. The three of them sat in silence as I slipped on my flip-flops and headed through the door.

“We’ll leave the light on for you!” Molly said with a laugh.

I shook my head. They were being ridiculous. Eggs and flip-flops weren’t some grand romantic gesture—I was just trying to solidify the truce we’d seemed to come to during our run. For miles, he and I ran side by side, sometimes talking, mostly running and listening to each other’s steady breaths. After that, he didn’t ignore me quite as much during practice. He helped me with my form on a tumbling pass on floor. Sure, I’d nearly swallowed my tongue when he’d come up behind me and slipped his hands down my arms, rotating them in the air and showing me the path my body should take when I was flipping. I’d pretended like I was confused so he’d have to do it again and when I’d glanced up, Molly and Lexi were making crude gestures across the gym. Fortunately, Erik hadn’t noticed and when he’d released me, I’d kept my head down, hiding my flushed cheeks.

When I walked up the stairs of his porch, I caught movement behind the front window and peered inside, wanting to ensure he was alone before I knocked. If he’d brought another girl home, I wasn’t going to interrupt them. Still, my stomach tightened at the thought. Would he really bring home another girl? I leaned another inch to the side and spotted him pulling open a kitchen cabinet. His back was to me and he was wearing nothing but low-slung pajama pants.

I barely managed a quick glimpse before he turned back to drop a bowl on the counter. I whipped around, pressed my back against the side of the house, and hoped he hadn’t seen me.

I took two deep breaths, glancing down at the omelet shaking on the paper plate.

Get it together. You’ve seen a guy without a shirt on. Correction: I’d seen boys without their shirts on. Erik was all man.

After another calm your shit breath, I leaned back and peeked through the window. He was pouring cereal into a bowl, and while the act itself was innocent, he looked positively sinful doing it. The simple movements stretched the taut muscles of his abdomen and obliques, making me salivate on the spot. His body was insane, lean and toned enough to make my heart race and my hand shake harder. I let myself absorb him for another second, trying to pin to memory every detail I could manage: his smooth shoulders, his tan chest. Every part of him begged to be touched—from his mussed up hair to his bare feet—but then like a slap to the face, I realized what I was looking at: Erik was at home, eating a bowl of cereal for dinner.

Alone.

Sure, maybe he was a brooding jerk, but even monsters need warm meals.

I glanced away from the window, forced my hand to stop shaking, and then walked to the back door and knocked.

“One sec,” he called from inside.

I fidgeted on my feet, watching the steam rise off the omelet just as he whipped the door open and finished pulling a tight gray t-shirt on over his head. I saw a glimpse of his abs up close and gaped at the sharp V that disappeared into his pajama pants just before the material covered him, stealing him from my sight.

“Brie?” he asked, drawing my gaze up to his face.

He’d seen me checking him out.

I held out the plate. “We made dinner and I figured you might want some.”

His brows rose in shock. “What did you put in it?”

I groaned. “What is it with everyone thinking I’m trying to kill you?”

He smirked and I looked away.

“Obviously, if I wanted to kill you, I would do it in a much more painful way than poisoned eggs,” I continued with a soft smile. “So eat it or throw it away. I don’t care.”

He reached out for the plate.