Kiss Me Box Set

by Hart, Emma

  Noah held his hands up. “We’ve got your back, man. We won’t say a word.”

  Preston agreed, and they both held their bottles in the middle of the table.

  I clinked mine against theirs, and that was the end of the conversation.

  I had a feeling it was only for tonight.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * * *

  AVA

  Making Friends Is Hard

  Let it be said that Ava Parker was not good at making friends.

  It didn’t matter if those friends were human or animals. It was not my forte. It was why I didn’t get along with Halley’s raccoons even though they took a liking to everyone who, well, wasn’t me.

  I just wasn’t good at it.

  I was more than a little socially awkward where being personal came into it. I could stand behind a bar for eight hours and serve eleventy-billion beers, but if even one of those people flirted with me, I was a goopy mess.

  A goopy, awkward, flailing mess.

  Apparently, that also extended to hedgehogs.

  I’d said it a thousand times, and I was going to say it again: my fear of rodents and rodent-like creatures was not irrational. It was a genuine thing, and given some of the fears that were out there, mine was pretty normal.

  It probably wasn’t phobia-level as I liked to dramatize—I saved that for the inability to be in deep water and that shit was actually no joke at all—but it was strong enough that seeing a rat was enough to render me catatonic.

  All right. There was the drama.

  I screamed like a little bitch.

  I wasn’t going to do it now, though. I was going to be brave. I was going to rule the hedgehog world with cat food and mineral water.

  Take that, tiny spiky pigs.

  Hiiiiiii-yah.

  Cue ninja stance.

  I was no ninja. I definitely identified as more of an upside-down turtle.

  I pulled the ring on the cat food Ethan insisted on buying for Mr. Prickles. I wasn’t sure what a spiky pig was doing eating cat food, but it wasn’t my pet, so I would do as I was told.

  Holding the can tightly, I carried it into Ethan’s room. It felt weird to be here knowing he wasn’t. His bed was made—which was more than I could say for mine—and his room was perfectly tidy.

  It was a bit annoying, actually.

  Mine wasn’t tidy.

  There was a bra here, a questionable pair of shorts there, and at least three hair ties, twenty bobby pins, and a long-lost phone charger under the bed.

  That was before you counted all the rogue hairs that’d escaped my head and my hairbrush and inevitably got sucked up by the vacuum.

  Hmm. I needed to vacuum today.

  I stilled in front of the cage.

  Mr. Prickles was on top of a small log house, and he froze when he noticed me.

  If this were a TV show, a ‘whoosh’ noise would accompany a lightning bolt across the screen to signal a stare down.

  His beady black eyes followed me. Maybe. It could have been the reflection from the sun streaming through Mr. Morning Lover’s window, but there was something unnerving about the way the hedgehog watched me.

  I couldn’t believe I was having a staring contest with a hedgehog.

  I needed a new hobby.

  Any hobby.

  I wasn’t fussy.

  I blinked, ending the one-sided contest, and reached for the opening to the cage. Mr. Prickles was still staring at me. I got the feeling he didn’t trust me any more than I trusted him, and I was okay with it.

  Slowly, I opened the door to the cage. He jumped down from the top of the log house, and there was a moment’s stillness from the both of us.

  We were feeling each other out.

  Why had I agreed to this?

  Because I was in love with my roommate and he wanted me, and I was weak as fuck?

  Ding ding ding, we have a winner!

  Ugh.

  I put the can of food in my right hand and tucked it into the cage. Mr. Prickles’ nose twitched, and no sooner had I dumped half the meat into his bowl than he was making his way over the cage to where my hand was.

  Where.

  My.

  Hand.

  Was.

  I froze.

  Legit froze.

  Mild panic streaked through my veins, the adrenaline holding my body hostage.

  What’d I been thinking when I offered to feed this animal? Was it my heart? I bet it was my heart. My stupid-ass heart was overriding my brain as it so often did.

  I didn’t sign up for this, okay?

  I didn’t sign up for having a roommate who I was in love with who had a spiky pig for a bet. I didn’t sign up for being in love with my brother’s best friend, who apparently had feelings for me.

  The only obstacle was my brother.

  You know what? If he wasn’t that good of a person, I’d probably remove him from the equation.

  I could.

  I’d read enough serial killer Wikipedia articles to know how to dispose of a body without getting caught.

  But was anyone worth murder?

  Eh.

  If you wronged my best friends… Yes.

  If you were my blood brother with a lifetime of memories that included a few unsavory ones?

  Tough question.

  I tapped the rest of the food into the bowl and quickly withdrew my hand from the cage. Mr. Prickles sauntered up to his food, his fat, prickly ass waddling as he reached it. His wet little nose was a quarter the size of a cat’s, and he wriggled it as if he were testing his food.

  Like a human sniffing wine.

  But I didn’t sniff wine. I just drank it. I was no connoisseur.

  Mr. Prickles shoved his face into the food. His furry little ears twitched as he munched his way through the stinky mess in the bowl.

  It was no lie.

  Cat food smelled like shit.

  I stepped back and perched on the edge of Ethan’s made bed. The cover was soft beneath my underwear-clad ass, and I gripped the fabric as I watched Mr. Prickles.

  He ate. And ate. And ate. A bit like the hungry caterpillar in that book.

  The little munching noises he made were adorable. Tiny little nibbles that were not at all like humans chewing with their mouths open—little clicking tsh-tsh noises that were too cute for their own good.

  Crap.

  Did I like this animal?

  It wasn’t bad enough that I was already in love with its owner, but now I liked his animal, too?

  This roommate situation was going to shit.

  I still needed to fill the water bowl, so I quickly took it out, secured the cage, and headed to the kitchen. I filled it quickly and returned it to Mr. Prickles.

  Huh.

  He was kinda cute.

  Damn it. Ethan was right. All it took was spending a little time with him, and I liked him.

  I sat back on the bed and shuffled back to the wall, drawing my legs up to my chest. I could see Mr. Prickles doing whatever it was that hedgehogs did to amuse themselves, and the gentle snuffy noises that came from him were weirdly comforting.

  I wrapped my arms around my legs and watched him for a while. He alternated between playing with a small plastic ball that had some kind of bell inside it and running in and out of a wooden tunnel.

  I didn’t know hedgehogs played with toys.

  You really did learn something new every day.

  I’d learned a lot this week, and I was about maxed out on education now, thank you very much.

  Sitting in Ethan’s room was weird, but it was comforting to watch Mr. Prickles. I’d get out before he came back from work, but then what did I do?

  Did I hide in my room? There was no way I could see him. I didn’t know how to talk to him now. It was easier when I thought he hated me.

  Knowing it wasn’t true complicated everything.

  I’d been as honest with him as I could have been, in the end. There was no way I was going to tell him the true extent
of my feelings. If I had, it would have just made it worse than it already was.

  How were we supposed to live together?

  Everything had changed. Were we destined to avoid each other like the plague until he ultimately decided he was leaving town again? That was what would happen. Ethan wasn’t made to settle down in one place.

  After all, he’d only moved in with me so he wasn’t tied to an actual lease.

  Talk about commitment issues.

  I blew out a long breath and leaned my head back against the wall. How could we normalize our relationship again? I’d meant what I’d said when I’d told him that there was no way we’d be the same—there was absolutely no chance I’d be able to sit on a sofa with him without wanting to curl myself into his side.

  We had to communicate, though. We still lived together, and that meant we had to be civil to one another. We had to get along.

  Rolling my head, I looked around his room. Despite the stuff he’d moved in, there was little to no personality in here. It reflected him perfectly—not because he had no personality, but because it made sense that he didn’t settle in anywhere.

  My feelings didn’t matter, because he was never going to stay in Creek Falls. Not like my brother. Leo wasn’t leaving again, he’d said as much to Mom, but Ethan hadn’t.

  He would leave, just like he always did.

  If I didn’t get a handle on my feelings, I’d end up in a worse place than I was right now.

  Another sigh escaped me. Damn it.

  No. I needed to do something. As much as I didn’t want to live with him right now, I didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t move out overnight, and neither would I make him leave.

  My gaze fell on his shoes.

  One of my passive-aggressive moves was going to be to steal all the insoles of his shoes. Sure, he had one pair that he was wearing, but if it was half as irritating as it was when he stole my socks…

  Which I still didn’t have back, for what it was worth.

  I shuffled off the bed. Mr. Prickles tilted his little head to the side, almost as if he was asking me what I was doing. I pressed a finger to my lips—as if he could talk—and quickly and carefully poked through Ethan’s closet.

  He had three pairs of shoes in here. A pair of sneakers, a second pair that were running shoes, and smart shoes.

  I took the insoles from all of them.

  I had to laugh at myself. This was a completely ridiculous way to make this work, but if it worked…

  Well, then my life went back to normal.

  Where I was in love with someone I could never be with, and the only happy ending I was getting was provided by seven inches of plastic and two double-A batteries.

  At least it wouldn’t argue with me.

  ***

  I tossed the sliced pepper into the pan with the chicken and the sliced onion. I had, once again, made enough food to feed a football team, but I figured I’d be a nice person and leave the fajita fixings covered in the fridge for Ethan whenever he decided to come back.

  Food was the great equalizer, after all. Nothing said, ‘I’m sorry, let’s be friends’ like good food.

  Food said a lot of things, actually, but it was my love language, that was for sure.

  I added the spice mix and stirred, blending it all together, and let it cook on low heat. My eyes darted to the time on my lock screen. I was hyper-aware of it, and I knew Ethan would be coming back at some point this evening.

  As it was, it was already six-thirty, and he should have finished work an hour and a half ago.

  I was on borrowed time. I was avoiding him, and I was already taking a risk by being in the kitchen right now. He could walk in at any time.

  A key turned in the lock.

  Like now.

  Right now.

  Crap on a cracker.

  Swallowing, I quickly let my hair down out of its loose bun. It was dark enough and thick enough that it would hide me from him if I wanted it to. It was totally a defense mechanism for me, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

  “Hey.”

  I stirred the fajita mix. “Hey.”

  “I brought pizza.”

  Turning, I looked at him for the first time since he’d left over twenty-four hours ago. His hair was in its usual messy style, the stubble that coated his jaw was a little longer than usual, and there was hesitance in his eyes. An unasked question.

  There was also an oil smudge on his cheek.

  “I’m making fajitas.” I shuffled side to side. “I was going to save some of the chicken for you. I made too much.”

  “Oh. No worries. I just thought… never mind.” He smiled tightly and put the box down on the coffee table so he could shrug off his backpack.

  “I guess you thought the same as me.”

  “That I was hungry?”

  “No. That food makes everything better.”

  He tugged his lips to the side. “Something like that. If I knew you were cooking…”

  “No, it’s fine. You can always reheat it for lunch.” I glanced down at the pizza box. God, it smelled good. “Or I can box it all up, and we can eat it tomorrow instead?”

  He tilted his head to the side. “You’re gonna eat the pizza?”

  “It smells good.” I bit the side of my bottom lip and dragged it through my teeth. “It’s not like I made grilled cheese that can’t be reheated.”

  “Or we could have cold pizza for breakfast.”

  “We could. What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. You decide.”

  “If I could, I’d have told you already.”

  “Why don’t we have both?”

  “What?”

  His eyes sparkled with laughter. “A fajita and pizza. That way, both our olive branches are extended, and we both win.”

  It was the weirdest icebreaker I’d ever heard in my life.

  That was probably why it was going to work.

  “All right then.” I nodded and reached for the tortillas. “Give me two minutes.”

  “I need to change anyway.” He pushed off from the island. “This shirt is Noah’s, and I need to wash it.”

  “I have a load I need to do. You can put it with mine.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Also, your cheek has oil on it.” I cradled the lettuce close to me and tapped my finger against my right cheek. “Just there.”

  He rubbed his cheek and checked his fingers. “Shit. No wonder they looked at me weird in the pizza place.”

  I bit back a laugh as he disappeared.

  Okay. This wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. We were clearly both trying to make amends and make this as normal as it possibly could be.

  Whether we’d succeed was another matter. It was a good start, though.

  I diced the lettuce and grabbed the shredded cheese from the fridge. I made two fajitas and set them on different plates, and by the time I put both plates down on the coffee table next to the pizza, Ethan came back through.

  “Thanks for feeding Mr. Prickles.” He sat down. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Don’t worry about it. There was no need to take him to your mom’s.”

  He paused. “I actually stayed at Noah’s last night. Apparently, your best friends have big mouths, so he offered me his spare room when I said I wasn’t staying here.”

  I met his eyes and froze. “Wasn’t Leo there last night?”

  “He doesn’t know,” Ethan said quickly, and I sagged in relief. “We talked when he was on the phone outside.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Yeah.”

  An awkward silence filled the apartment. We’d gone into uncharted territory with that direction in conversation, and now that I knew he’d spoken to Noah and Preston about the kiss, I was dying to know what he’d said.

  Sucked to be me.

  I grabbed a napkin from the stack on top of the pizza box and dabbed at my mouth. I didn’t know what to say next.

  Was I
an idiot to think our relationship could go back to before we kissed?

  Ethan reached for the pizza box at the exact same time I did. Our fingers touched, and a shiver darted up my arm in response.

  “Sorry,” we both said at the same time.

  “Here.” He pushed the box toward me. “You go.”

  “Um. Thanks.” I opened the box, revealing the cheesy goodness of a pepperoni pizza. I peered over at Ethan. “You hate pepperoni.”

  He leaned forward, pulling a slice out, and picked off all the bits of pepperoni. “Problem solved,” he said with a small smile.

  I glanced down at the pizza and back at him. “Did you buy this because it’s my favorite? You know they’ll do half-and-half there, right?”

  “I know.” He was looking at the slice he’d just put on his plate. “By the time I remembered, it was too late.”

  “But why didn’t you get a pizza you like?”

  “Because I didn’t buy it for me, you donut. I bought it to, I don’t know, say sorry. I knew I could just pick the pepperoni off. It’s just a pizza, Ava. It’s not the end of the world to pick off a topping I don’t like if it means we can go back to pissing each other off like normal.”

  Oh, my God.

  And therein lay the problem.

  This was the kind of guy you married, ladies. The guy who brought your favorite, even if he hated it, just to make your day a little better.

  I pulled a slice away. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just eat it.” He smirked. “Evidently, talking isn’t our forte today.”

  “Or any day,” I added. “But I do have good news.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I think me and Mr. Prickles might be friends.”

  “Fuck off,” he replied. “You’re friends with him now? You’ve hated him ever since I brought him in.”

  “Yes,” I said slowly. “But I had to feed him today, and since he didn’t bite me, we’re on good terms.”

  Ethan laughed, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Interjection: I’m getting a beer. You want one?”

  “No. I’ll take some wine, though.”

  “Do you have any plastic cups? I don’t want you cutting the entire finger off this time.”

  I pursed my lips.

  Laughing again, he quickly made his way to the kitchen. “Is that all it takes? A promise not to bite you and your friends?”