“Nay! Bring us some snacks,” Nick calls out from the living room.
I frown at his attitude before opening the fridge and the freezer. I consider the options before pulling out some pizza rolls. They could eat like a thousand of them in a day, no lie.
I dump them onto a plate, put it into the microwave and start the timer before making my own afternoon treat. Once I’m done, I carry the plate and my bowl to the living room and set it down on the table.
Nick shoves a pizza roll into his mouth then immediately starts panting. They’re still scalding.
“That’s what you get for not having manners,” Kolter teases before looking to me with a kind smile. “Thanks, Nay.”
My heart flutters at his use of my nickname as I scoop up a spoonful of my own treat and take a bite. I groan in happiness and go to scoop up another spoonful when Kolter leans over.
“Whatcha got there?”
I blink. How embarrassing would it be if I spat food at him while trying to talk?
“Peaches and vanilla ice cream,” I say as clearly and carefully as I’m able, though it doesn’t sound all that clear since my mouth is numbing further with every passing moment.
“Fucking gross,” Nick sneers.
Kolter bumps his shoulder into his. “Language.”
Nick rolls his eyes and refocuses his attention on the video game while I pout in defense.
“You’ve never even tried it! It’s really good! Do you want to try some, Kolter?” I ask, unable to hide the hope in my voice.
It’s like, if he likes the snack I created, then maybe it’s the first step in him liking me? How dumb does that sound?
Kolter looks down at the contents of the bowl for a moment like he’s weighing the risks before he gives me a short nod. I rise to grab him a new spoon, but before I can, he reaches over andtakes mine, gathering up a nice portion before lifting the spoon to his mouth.
I watch his lips close around it. I know I’m being a weirdo by watching him so closely, but I can’t help it. He grabbed my spoon—he used my spoon! His mouth is right where mine used to be. Nothing can convince me he doesn’t feel the same way now. I’m practically planning our wedding in my head as we speak.
He gives me a thoughtful nod as he swallows the treat before handing the spoon back to me. “Not bad, Peaches.”
Peaches. A way better nickname than Nay. And even better, he came up with it on his own, for me.
I’m already plotting how I can get him to say it again. Maybe I can record him saying it, so I never have to stop hearing it.
“Peaches,” Kolter says as he looks down at me.
His hands are currently gripping my arms, steadying me. They tense in a way that’s almost painful before he slightly loosens his hold. Wow. He looks so… different. He sounds different.
I haven’t seen Kolter in a little over six years, though we stopped being close long before that. He’s grown taller since I saw him, he has a beard now, and his thick black hair is almost to his shoulders. That hair is pushed back from his face, revealing the tattoos that crawl from his hands to his neck. Paired with his black combat boots, dark jeans and black cut-off leather jacket, he looks every bit intimidating as I know he is. Every bit as dangerous. The eyes don’t lie, though. They’re the same beautiful blue ones I stared into all my childhood; that Idreamed of. His black mask can’t disguise them—I’d recognize those eyes in every lifetime.
He was twenty the last time I saw him, and even though that’s well into adulthood, those six years have transformed Kolter Mayhew completely. He’s no longer the broken boy with a soft spot for me. This Kolter Mayhew is all man, and if the way he’s looking at me is anything to go by, I’d say that soft spot is long gone, hardened to stone.
“K-Kolter?” I breathe roughly, still unable to believe he’s actually right in front of me.
Am I drunk? I don’t think I am. Come to think of it, I haven’t had a sip of anything since getting to the club.
“In the flesh. What’s the matter? You look surprised. This is what you came for, right?”
“What? I… Huh?” I stammer like a complete idiot.
His expression twists into a sneer as he shakes his head. “Tongue-tied? Just a few moments ago, you were putting that thing to good use.”
The harshness in his tone catches me by surprise. I know we grew apart as we got older. His dad got out of prison, he stopped coming home for dinner as often, started hanging out at his dad’s bar… and then he was just kinda gone. According to Nick, he joined his dad’s motorcycle gang and has been riding that outlaw life ever since. Mom doesn’t approve but still invites him home for every holiday and birthday. He always declines. Apparently, he rarely even sees Nick. Maybe once or twice a year max.
“I didn’t know it was you,” I say, blushing as I look down at my feet.