Bro Code(20)

Wanting her is the equivalent of running with scissors. In a word, she's dangerous. Wanting her this desperately could put an end to the closest friendship I've got, and worse than that, I sense she could leave me brokenhearted. I don't have time for a relationship, even if I wanted one.

But that didn't stop Ava from filtering through every dream I had last night, the way she gasped and grabbed at my shoulders, burying her face in my neck, how slick and hot she was against my fingers. We could have gone so much farther, but she pulled away and managed to stop, and somehow, I did, too, even though everything in me wanted to follow her back to her bedroom and make sure she was alright.

A couple of deep breaths get me back under control before I get out of bed. I head to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face, and after washing up, I tug on a pair of pants and a shirt before heading down the stairs.

A distant sneeze catches me by surprise, and when I duck my head into the kitchen, Ava is there, wrapped up in a fleece robe. She's pressed close to the stove, watching over a steel kettle that's yet to boil, and a box of tea bags sits next to her on the counter.

God, why does she have to look so good in a pair of pajama pants—the same pajama pants I’d pulled down the night before—a fuzzy robe, and a messy bun? That's not normal, right?

“Morning,” I say entering the kitchen.

She jumps a little, and immediately covers her mouth to try and muffle a second sneeze.

“You okay?” I close the distance between us, and stop just out of arm's reach.

“Yeah, I'm fine. It's nothing.”

“Doesn't sound like nothing.”

She pulls her robe tighter. “It's a little cold. No big deal.”

It might not be a dig deal to her, but I don't like seeing her under the weather. “Did spending time in a cold car after being in the nice warm house make you sick?”

“Spending time in the car?” She raises an eyebrow, and I can't quite tell if she's annoyed or amused. “Is that what you call it?”

“Well, you came out to see me and...” I start.

She pokes my arm to interrupt, scoffing under her breath, “I came out there to make sure you were okay. Don’t blame me for catching a cold, you jerk. Typical.”

“That's not what I meant.” I don't want to insist too loud, not when someone else could be in the house, but Ava catches onto my hesitation in an instant.

“Nick isn't here.” Just that single statement is enough to make my shoulders relax, but I'm even more relieved when she adds, “he went with my parents to the pharmacy.”

Right. Nick mentioned that yesterday. It completely slipped my mind.

“So, we're alone,” I say.

“Yes, we're alone, but don't get any ideas.” Ava turns back around to the stove as steam billows out of the kettle's spout, making a high-pitched squeal. “Last night things went too far.”

“I know.” Hell, I'd known that the entire time, but with her body against mine, I hadn't been able to hold back. “Ava, I'm not blaming you for anything. We just lost our heads.”

“We...” she starts, then goes quiet for a minute. I think she might have been expecting me to argue with her.

She pours the water into a porcelain mug, but sneezes while trying to drop the tea bag inside. I catch the cup right before it gets knocked off the counter, ignoring the hot water that spills down over my knuckles.

“Shit.” She closes her eyes, clearly embarrassed. “I'm sorry, Barrett.”

“Don't be sorry.” After wiping up the spilled water, I smile.

She's nervous around me, and after last night, hell, maybe she has the right to be. Clearly, we don't know how to control ourselves. But from here on out, it's my job to make sure we do.

“Remember when you were little, and your pet rabbit went to go live in the country?”

“Yeah.” The memory of Bunny brings a smile to her lips.

“Well, this thing between us is a little like that. It's better for everyone if we just let this go.”

Her brows pinch together. “Barrett, I'm not that na?ve. I know Bunny died and my parents made up that story to protect me.”

“Then let me protect you from this, too. We have to bury these urges. Nick would hate me, and with me living in Chicago, there's no way it can develop into more anyway. It would only end up ruining everything.”

She nods, looking somberly at her teacup.

“Go back up to bed and rest? I'll handle the tea,” I suggest.

“You don't have to do that,” she says softly.

“I know, but I want to.” I hold Ava's gaze for a long moment, watching the tense line of her jaw, itching to brush my fingers down the side of her face. “It's not a macho thing. You came outside to make me feel better, so can't I do the same thing now?”

She lets out a soft sigh, and nods. “That'd be great.”

I take a step back so she can step away from the stove, which I turn off the moment she leaves. With the tea brewing, I start checking through the cabinets and fridge, looking for something else that might help, and strike the jackpot with some chicken soup. Thankfully it doesn't take very long to heat up, and I carry the bowl upstairs in one hand and the mug in the other.