Sugar Rush (Friend-Zoned #3)(49)
Author: Belle Aurora

Grinning, I turn and whisper loudly, “It smells amazing!” I carefully remove the dish from the oven. As I place it on the stove, I tell her, “Do not touch that. It’s hotter than hel—” In the presence of a minor! Oops. “It’s hotter than Ian Somerhalder.”

She smiles. “It’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”

Of course she has. She’s grown up with Max, Nik, Ash, and Trick. It’s a miracle her ears aren’t constantly bleeding, the poor dear. “Right. I’m going to tell your dad to clear up the dining table so we can eat.”

As soon as I walk out of the kitchen and into the hall, I jump up and down on the spot, silently cheering at the fact that I’m doing something right. Ceecee agreed to exercise without me having to bribe her. I made it her choice.

Wait a minute. My bouncing body stills. I made it her choice. My eyes widen. Oh my God. I made it her choice! A smile spreads across my face. That’s it! I look into the dining room and my vagina jumps off of a trapeze, freefalling with her arms spread wide by her sides.

Max sits at the dining table in front of an open laptop, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent at the knee, his foot on the base of the chair. Chewing on a pen and looking into the screen distractedly, his glasses are perched on top of his nose.

He has glasses. Not just any glasses. Trendy, geek chic, rectangular reading glasses. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. A frown tips my lips. I raise my head and mentally pray.

This isn’t fair, God. I’m not allowed to touch him. Why are you playing with my emotions like this? Is it because I asked Jacob Schmidt to show me his thing in the first grade? I was young and curious! Give me a break!

Lowering my face, I glance over at Max and swallow through my thick throat.

Let me tell you something about myself. Men with glasses…they do it for me. Something about a good-looking man changes when he puts on glasses. He becomes someone else, a gorgeous version of himself. While women were swooning over Superman, I was swooning over Clark Kent. Oh yeah. Give me a man with glasses any day of the week.

I clear my throat and he looks up at me with a lazy smile. “Hey.”

I motion to his laptop. “You almost done? Dinner’s ready.”

“Yeah, I’m done.” He removes his glasses, placing them down on the table.

My feet move of their own accord until I’m right in front of him. I pick the glasses up off the table, lift them, and gently place them back on his head. I state softly, “Don’t take them off. They look good on you.”

I turn to walk away, but he snags my wrist and yanks. I land on his lap and his long, muscular arms wrap around me, holding me in place. I don’t fight him this time. I’ve seen him with the other girls. I know this is how he is. It doesn’t seem right for me to ask him to be someone else around me. He’s right. I’m just going to have to get used to it. He asks quietly, “How’d it go?”

I feign boredom. “Oh, you know. We cooked. We talked. We had fun. Girls stuff.” My eyes smile down at him. “She agreed to cooking lessons and exercise sessions three times a week. But only if I come to Sunday breakfasts with you guys, so please tell me that’s after ten am, because otherwise, I might just cry.”

I expect something. A smile. A laugh. A victorious hi-five. I get nothing. Instead, his arms tighten around me. He closes his eyes and drops his forehead to my shoulder. He holds me for a long while and I lift my hand to rub his forearm. I’m not sure why, but it feels as though he needs comfort right now.

I give him his moment before gently removing his hands and standing. I make my way to the kitchen to find Ceecee has already put together plates and cutlery. She moves out of the kitchen, and as she passes me, I can’t help myself. I lean down and kiss her head. “You did good, sweetie.”

She smiles up at me. “I had a good teacher.”

If there ever was a compliment to receive from a child, that would be the one. My stupid nose tingles, and before I start blubbering like a loon, I quickly take the dish of nachos off the stove and move it into the dining room. Max sits while Ceecee places the plates down. He looks to the dish I place in the middle of the table and grins. When she passes him the next time, he quickly grabs a handle and pulls her chair backward. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and utters, “This looks good, baby girl. My mouth’s watering. Feed me.”

When she mutters an unsure, “Thanks, Daddy,” he kisses her cheek and lets her go.

Heart fluttering, I sit at the table and look around me. A small smile graces my lips. I quickly realize there is no place I’d rather be.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Helena

I’m pissed.

Stupid brain.

After last night’s dinner, I decided it was too late to do a session with Ceecee. Not only that, but we’d eaten our weight in nachos. Ceecee had done such a great job with cooking that I’d gone back for seconds. And it wasn’t even sympathy seconds. The nachos were good.

Watching Max eat was something else. I had seen him eat before, but I never really noticed the little noises he makes when he’s eating something he enjoys. His small murmurs of approval, his discreet nods, and furrowed brows of concentration—it was almost as if he was having a conversation with his dinner. And, of course, it was completely adorable. The ass.

We showered compliments to the chef, and from her shy smile and neon pink blush, I think she liked that. When I asked her what days she’d like me to come over, she looked at her dad, then back to me and responded, “You can come any day after five pm.” She suddenly looked nervous, but added quietly, “And you don’t have to come just three days. If you don’t have anything to do or whatever, you can come here.”

My body stilled in stunned disbelief. Was this Ceecee’s way of telling me we are friends? I believed it was. Not being able to stop myself and craving the affections of this little creature, I leaned down, wrapped my arms around her, and told her, “I will definitely keep that in mind, sweetie.” As I pulled away, I added, “I’d hate for you to get sick of me though.”

She lowered her eyes and mumbled, “That won’t happen.” And my heart soared.

Max told Ceecee to get her things then, and confusion settled over me. Then I remembered what Max had told me the other night about Ceecee not wanting to be at home, about her avoiding him. She was likely going to sleep at Nik and Tina’s. Ceecee looked up at her dad. She didn’t move. When she spoke softly, I melted on the floor in a big puddle of sap. “Actually, Daddy, I think I might stay here tonight.”