Page 22 of Defying Ella
The onions started to stick, and I poured in the stock, grateful for something to do with my hands. Memories of smoothing them along those divots tried to sneak up on me, and a small voice whispered that there was no reason I couldn’t experience that again. After all, I only wanted some fun. It didn’t matter if the body I had fun with was an asshole of the greatest proportions.
Why couldn’t he keep his hands to himself?I’d been perfectly content ignoring the low burn need for the last few months.
Frowning into the pot, I threw in the rest of the vegetables and pushed the urge down. Nothing good would come from letting him touch me again.
There would be consequences.
With all the ingredients in the pot, my distraction tactics ran out. I set a timer and tried to back out of the kitchen, grabbing a banana and a glass of water on my way.
“Aren’t you going to at least say good morning?” Jared called after me, a thread of hurt in his voice.
For all of a second, I considered turning around, but I was stronger than that. I pulled out a chair and took a seat, staring happily out at the white mountainous landscape.
“If I do, am I going to regret it?”
He didn’t answer and really, what could he say? If he said no, I wouldn’t believe him anyway. Instead, he hovered. I could see him in the window’s reflection, standing stiff at the counter with his tea forgotten in his hands. He stared at me with a look I couldn’t decipher, between the glass and the fact I’d never seen it on his face before. It looked like…
Longing.
Which had to be a figment of my imagination. The blanket of white playing with my eyes maybe.
I tried to ignore his presence, focusing on the view. My mother always used to laugh at me growing up because I was the kid who hated being out in the snow. Other kids, even Mel, were desperate to play in it, and I’d be the one holding on to the doorframe begging to not have to leave the warmth of the house. That had never changed. Give me a fire and a view of the snow over traipsing through the freezing cold any day.
Jared pulled out a chair opposite me and sat with determination hardening his features, failing to read my silence for the stay-away order my body broadcasted.
“We can’t spend our days avoiding each other.”
I sat back and crossed my arms, my brows climbing in disbelief. “Why the hell wouldn’t we?”
“Because we’re adults. We can be civil.”
“I’m not the one who doesn’t understand the meaning of the word.”
“Yeah, I deserved that.” He winced and scrubbed a hand across his face. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.” A slither of a smile ghosted across his face. “Just pretend I’m like everyone else, like we never did the nasty.”
Despite myself, irritation boiled beneath my calm veneer.Do not stoop to his level.
“What do you think I was trying to do when I found you in my sister’s flat?” I muttered, failing to hide the bite in my tone. “You didn’t even give me a chance, going straight to the scowling and the biting remarks.”
He held up his hands. “It’s not my fault you looked like a groupie stalker.”
My mouth dropped open at that. “Would you like to rephrase that?”
“Nope, it fit at the time.” He shook his head, his green eyes glinting with laughter that I’d like to slap off his face. Realisation dawned in his gaze, and he rubbed at his eyes. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
“Insulted me? Yes. You’re good at it.”
I picked up the banana and ignored him. Tried to ignore him. Blocking him out completely would be next to impossible, but at least I could keep my eyes off him.
“You’ve got to admit it would look weird from my perspective.” The amusement returned, lifting his Welsh voice in melodic ways I could happily do without. “A stranger I spent a week with, randomly appearing in my best friend’s baby mamma’s flat was weird.”
I grimaced. “Can you not say that word please?”
“What word?”
“Baby mamma,” I spat it at him, my face scrunching up in disgust like it made me feel ill. Which it kind of did. One way to demean a person.
“Fine. It was still weird.” He shrugged, completely unaffected by my reaction. Go figure.
