Page 22 of Incomplete
“Is there someplace you need to return to, a home, an apartment?”
“No. Everything I own is with me here.”
“What about a boyfriend, a—”
“No,” I quickly offered up, not wanting him to think there was anyone else after hearing the slight forlorn in his tone. “There’s no one.”
Boden’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he seemingly swallowed down a pill of relief. “Then I propose we take things one day at a time. No pressure, just two adults enjoying each other’s company.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
“Friends, just friends,” he reaffirmed.
“I don’t deserve your friendship.”
I regretted my statement the moment it crossed my lips because it likely came across as if I felt sorry for myself when that couldn’t be further from the truth. The simple fact of the matter was I recognized how special a person Boden was, and the last thing I wanted to do was hold him back in any way, shape, or form.
“Do I get a say?” he asked.
“You haven’t tried my cookies yet; you might regret saying that,” I countered, trying to veer away from the seriousness that had transpired.
A lighthearted ball of laughter erupted deep from within him, and I could not stop the smile it elicited from me in response. “Good point, give me a second.” He reached for the plate and uncovered the cookies before taking a bite. “Ah, my tooth.”
“Oh my God, no, did you chip it?”
The way he jutted his flawlessly rugged jawline and looked at me out of the corner of his eye was all the admission of guilt I needed.
He was messing with me.
“You’re so bad.” I grabbed his wrist, leaned into him, and took a bite of the other half of the cookie he was holding.
“Boden, this is god-awful.”
“Your words, not mine.”
He popped the remaining piece in his mouth and happily chewed away.
“How are you eating that?”
“Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“I guess that’s what I get for eyeballing the measurements, because a certain landlord didn’t stock the kitchen with measuring cups.”
“Shit, really? My bad.” He slapped his chest with his palm. “Tell you what, I’ll happily hook you up if it means there’s a chance of you bringing me any more of your baking confections.”
“I’m seriously beginning to question your devotion toward our newfound friendship status because, in my book, friends don’t let friends eat things that clearly lack sugar.”
“Sheesh, cut a guy some slack.” He elbowed me. “I can’t think under these circumstances. My sugars are clearly low. Please don’t judge me on this one transgression.”
“Oh, I’m judging you, all right! You’re such a goofball.” I finished what was left of my water. “On that note, I’m going to head out.”
He nodded and reached for the glass. “Here, I’ll take that, and then I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s not like I have far to go.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
I’d encountered enough men in my life to know that Boden was a rarity, one of the good ones. His genuine kindness might be enough to single handily begin to restore my faith in humanity.
