His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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NOAH
There's a dog on the kitchen island, just sitting there like he owns the place, waiting for his meat to cook.
Audacious.
He's not wrong, though. The world revolves around him for now.
Camila insisted on this plan. This plan where she's not with me right now. Told me to "multitask" and shoved the dog into my arms before heading off to Skyfall for whatever job she's aiming at. Instructor? I could've sworn it's a rock climbing facility, at least primarily.
Cam says there's stuff in the basement like boxing and weights. I don't know.
I squint at the dog and then turn around to flip the thin slab of steak in the pan, the smell of sizzling beef filling the kitchen.
Charlie's got this intensity about him, a focus that reminds me of someone. Someone whose stubbornness I've grown to love, despite the exhaustion that comes with it. And worry.
Worry. The constant, gnawing worry. It's like a shadow that stretches with the day. The more people you love, the more reasons you have to worry. That's the trade-off.
Charlie barks, loud and sharp, snapping me out of my skin. "Fucking hell, buddy," I mutter, the sound ricocheting in my skull. "No wonder John wouldn't take you. I think my ears are bleeding."
He cocks his head to the side, tail wagging.
"No one's here, alright? Just you and me," I say, more to calm myself than him.
Jed's off wherever Jed goes on Wednesdays after his physics class. Fox is probably studying somewhere or with Maddie, the fucking two-faced...
I cut off that train of thought. Nothing good comes from dwelling. Negative thoughts are like weeds; let them grow, and they choke everything else out.
Charlie lets out another bark, this one lower but just as piercing. I wince, the sound like a nail being hammered into my head. "That's not inconspicuous!" I snap, aggressively flipping the steak again. "We're trying not to get caught, remember?"
He barks again, short and demanding."Goddamn it," I grumble, reaching for a plate.
I swear he's mocking me.
Charlie's ears twitch, his nose sniffing the air as the steak sizzles. His eyes are glued to the pan. I can't help but frown. I wonder if he's always been like this, or if it's something that developed over time—like a survival tactic.
"One sec," I mutter, sliding the sizzling steak onto the plate and cutting it into tiny pieces.
I set the plate in front of him, and he digs in, the meat disappearing almost instantly. I lean against the counter, watching him.
His spine is hard to look at. His ribs are worse.
The apartment is quiet again, the only sound Charlie's munching.
