Page 59 of Please Open Me
What sort of black magic was this?
Cameron vanished down the hall with the baby. Sophia turned her attention back to me.
Her blue eyes sparkled. Her smile widened.
I busied myself with coffee and my almost-forgotten brownie.
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” she called, way closer than I wanted her to be.
“Coffee,” I muttered, not daring to turn around.
The pot was nearly empty, but still warm. I didn’t expect much—it was already one in the afternoon—but I was grateful no one had dumped it. I grabbed a white mug and filled it to the brim.
Lately I’d been adding oat milk and vanilla to my morning cup. Cameron said caffeine didn’t have to be punishment, and I wastryingto embrace that.
But with Sophia breathing down my neck, I felt this stupid pressure to be stereotypically masculine.Like that alone would give her less to pick on.
So, I begrudgingly prepared to drink it black.
Like a man.
One who didn’t overthink everything.
One who didn’t worry if he was enough.
One who didn’t accidentally fall into a cult in a moment of weakness.
One who—every muscle in my body tensed—one who was not currently overwhelmed by the sweet, candy-like scent of Sophia’s perfume.
Swallowing hard, I turned around, pressing myself back against the counter to put as much distance between us as possible.
“Good morning, Sophia,” I said calmly, mentally high-fiving myself for not stuttering.
She smiled up at me and placed a hand on my forearm. She was warm. Soft.Mean.
And I couldn’t shake that.
I focused all my energy on lifting the mug to my lips and taking a long drink.
“Where you going, hot stuff?” she asked.
This situation bore eerie similarities to the times when my classmates used to ask me out as a joke.
“I’m going to take my medicine, eat breakfast, and go to the gym,” I said plainly.
Her face lit up like I’d offered to rail her over the island. She squealed, clapped her hands, and bounced in place.
“That’s so awesome!Me too!” she chirped. “That means we can go together!”
And I froze, nearly dropping my mug.
Ishould’veknown by her outfit. I should’ve changed my plan. Lied. Said I was gonna rot on the couch and play video games until I “magically” decided to hit the gym right after she got back.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I need time to get ready, so I probably won’t go for like…” I blew out a breath, calculating the right amount of fake delay. “An hour?”
“That’s fine!” she chirped, completely unfazed. “I’ll find something to do.”
God fucking damn it.
