Emma looks up from her spot on the couch.

Her dark eyes cut through me.

It's not like my brother's stare.

There's no hate in it.

There's frustration, yeah, but there's relief too.

"Hey." I press the door closed. Leave my keys on the dining table. I want to be here. I want to help her. To earn her trust.

There's something easy about being with her.

I don't feel like a useless fuckup.

I feel like I'm worth something.

Like I'm capable of helping her.

I don't know how to do it.

But the way her eyes are lighting up—

If she wants me around, I'm going to be around.

"Hey." She takes a long sip from her oversized mug. "I tried using the pour over."

"Yeah?" The room does smell like coffee.

"But I couldn't figure it out." Her lips press together—they aren't red today. She isn't wearing a hint of makeup. "So I made drip instead."

I shake my head. "Not with the single-origin?"

She bites her lip. "Yes with the single-origin."

"Em, you didn't." Using coffee that good to make something as shitty as drip is wrong.

"I figured it would be easy." Her lips curl into a half-smile. "I mean, if you can do it, how hard can it be?"

"You want me to show you?"

Her smile widens as she nods.

"What about that?" I motion to her mug.

"There's always room for more coffee."

"It's getting late."

"It's still light out." She stands and crosses the room. "Besides, it's Saturday."

"Is this how you party?"

"Coffee, chocolate chip pancakes, and Disney movies. Best party in the world."

Fuck, I can't think of anything that sounds better.

Maybe I'm stupid or reckless or self-destructive.

I don't care.

I need this connection.

I need her.

"Hunter, hello?" Her ass brushes my hip as she moves past me. "Are you going to show me or do I need to walk to the place down the street?"

I motion to the kitchen. "After you."

She steps into the small space.

I follow.

She's right there. Her crotch pressed against the counter, her tank top hiking up her lower back.

She reaches for the top shelf. Picks the single-origin Kenyan beans. Sets the bag on the tile counter. Sinks into her heels.

Fuck, this is a bad idea.

She's soft.

Touchable.

My hands are begging for her long legs.

I slide them into my pockets. Clear my throat.

I'm not touching her.

My cock is going to have to get over that.

I'm going to have to get used to mental images of pinning her to the counter.

I place the scale in front of her. "This is an exact science."

"Isn't that boring?"

"It's meditative." I grind the beans then scoop exactly sixty grams into the pour over.

"You don't seem like the type." Her eyes flit to the counter. She clears her throat. Presses her fingers into the tile.

"I'm working on it."

"Yeah, you're kinda… off."

"That obvious?"

She nods. "Where were you today?"

"I went to the old shop. To see my brother."

"Oh." She swallows hard. "I'm guessing it didn't go well."

"It went as well as it could."

"But—"

"Chase hates me. For some shit I did. He… I betrayed him."

"How?"

"Broke a promise."

She studies me carefully. "You do realize you're being incredibly vague."

I chuckle. "Yeah."

She fills the kettle, sets it on the stove, turns the burner on. "Unlike you. I'm not going to try to manipulate you into sharing by offering some quid pro quo bullshit. But, well, trading gossip during the Disney movies is an important part of the party. If you want to join."

"I'm invited?"

"Yeah. You're an integral part."

I arch a brow.

She motions to the carafe. "We need coffee."

"Damn, Em. You know how to bruise a guy's ego."

"Your company isn't too bad either."

"Shit, don't sweet talk me now."

Her smile spreads over her cheeks. "The gossip is normally about the shop. Or school. Or boys. Mostly boys. But I can make an exception for you."

"My brother is a guy."

She laughs. "Yeah, but guys as in guys we want to bang. Your brother—"

"You'd like him."

"Would I?"

I nod. "He's a little taller than me. Darker hair. Darker eyes."

"Brown?"

"Deep blue."

"He does sound hot."

I chuckle. "He is."

"It's good, you can admit that."

"Is it?"

"So many guys are uptight about that."

"I touch guys all day."

"And women."

"But mostly guys."

Her smile spreads over her lips. "Shit, I should become a tattoo artist."

"You could."

She shakes her head. "I couldn't take the pressure."

"I was like that at first."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you get over it."

"Booze, at first."

Her eyes go wide. "Oh."

"Then time." I check the temperature gauge on the kettle. It's getting close. "It's not for everyone."

"Glad you realize that."

"What does speak to you?"

"Besides fashion?"

"Yeah."

"I do love fashion. Being able to turn into someone else in an hour. It's funny, how differently people treat me if I'm in something like I wore last night. Or if I'm in this." She motions to her pajama shorts and tank top. "Or if I put on some trashy leopard print dress."

"You don't own leopard print."

"I do. I swear."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's not my favorite. But it has a certain aesthetic."

I'm sure she looks fantastic in any print.

"I love movies too. Letting them wash over me. And music. I have no talent. I can't play an instrument. I can barely carry a tune. I have enough rhythm to dance. But God, when I close my eyes, and I feel the bass, and I let the melody wash over me—there's nothing like that."

"Be honest: you listen to Bayside when you fuck."

Her cheeks flush. "I haven't."

She might as well scream I want to.

God, she's adorable blushing.

My balls tighten.

My pulse races.

That was the wrong thing to ask.

My body is going haywire.

It's tuned to her.

The desire in her eyes. The heave of her chest. The nervous scrape of her fingernails.

She wants me.

She's holding back.

But, fuck, seeing how she wants me too—

Not good for keeping it in my pants.

"I'll, um… I'll have to keep that in mind." She clears her throat. "I don't usually listen to music. I don't want to pollute it."

"You've never wanted to share it with someone?"

"Only Kaylee. But I'm not into girls." Her eyes find mine.

"What?"

"Guys used to get all oh my God, you're so close, you must experiment with us."

"Really?"

She nods.

"Did you?"

"Oh my God." She pushes me. Softly. Then harder.

Hard enough my ass hits the counter.

Fuck, it gives me ideas.

"I never got that," I say. "Why watch two girls go at it?"

"I think guys believe the women are going to invite them to join because they just desperately need a dick."

"Do they?"

"They? I don't know."

"Do you?"

"Are you allowed to ask that?" Her eyes light up.

"I won't tell if you don't."

"I could stand to get laid, yeah. You?"

"Don't need a dick no."

"Oh my God. That was so lame."

I laugh. "It was." Behind me, the kettle steams. I turn the stove off. Check the temperature. 205. A little hot. "Like I said, it's been awhile."

"For me too." She presses her lips together. "Why did you stop sleeping around?"

"I was never into it. It was more… something to do."

"A hobby?"

"You could say that." If I hadn't been so desperate to impress Chase, it would have been my only hobby. I check the temperature. Perfect. "Here."

I show her how to pour the water over the beans. It's a simple spiral pattern, but it takes a lot of practice to get the nuances.

"So that's it. Chicks, tattoos, and coffee?"

"The coffee is recent."

"You want me to believe you weren't sucking down Americanos to keep you up all night?"

"Never experienced that benefit of caffeine."

She chuckles. "You know what I mean."

"It was energy drinks back then."

She sticks her tongue out. "Vile."

"Yeah." I feel the same way now. Hell, I'm disgusted by vanilla lattes now. But back then—"I just wanted the high."

"They make caffeine pills."

"Had them."

She nods reasonable. Presses her ass into the counter. Stares into my eyes.

We're farther away. There's two feet between us. But now we're eye to eye.

It feels closer.

But not close enough.

"What else?" she asks.

"Comics."

"Of course."

"More graphic novels now. But still comics sometimes. I've been into them since the first time Chase loaned me his The Amazing Spider-Man. Fuck, what was the issue?"

"How did you get from there to art?"

"It's not interesting."

"Well…" Her cheeks blush. "It's not uninteresting."

We stare for a long moment.

Until the timer beeps.

I instruct her on how to pull the filter.

Her voice gets soft. Uncertain. "This is way too many steps."

"You want good coffee or you want minimum effort coffee?"

"I prefer blackmailing you into making the coffee."

"Sure."

"Sure?"

I nod. "You cook most nights. It's the least I could do." I want to take care of her. To make sure she's eating every meal and sleeping every night and finding comfort in—

In my arms.

With me.

"Okay." She tries to avoid blushing as she looks me in the eyes.

She's never shy.

It warms me everywhere.

I stare back at her. "Come here."

"And?"

"With the carafe."

She picks it up. Moves closer. Closer.

There.

She's inches away.

I step aside to give her room.

She slides into the space between me and the counter. Her ass brushes my crotch as she turns.

I should move.

But I don't.

I keep my body behind hers, my crotch against her ass, my chest against her back, my arms around hers.

Slowly, I bring one hand to her wrist. "I'll pour."

"Oh." Her chest heaves with her inhale. "Do you… um… are you still into comics?"

I take the carafe. Grab cups. Pour. "I lost interest for a while."

"Because?"

"High school bullshit."

"They weren't cool?"

"Yeah."

"And the art?"

"What about it?"

"When did you start drawing?"

"Chase talked me into this summer class at the community center when I was fifteen."

"And?"

"Once I realized about the naked women, I was sold."

She chuckles. "I thought you were kidding about that."

"I was." Water pours over the beans, flows through them, drips into the container. "And I wasn't."

"You're disgusting."

"Thanks."

She breaks our touch. Slides out from my grip. Pulls open the fridge door and grabs the half and half. "Hunter?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how you're all annoying about wanting to know things?"

I nod.

"It's been less annoying." She presses her palms into the counter. "I… I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too."

I'm pretty sure she's the closest friend I have.