Cookie

13

After dinner with Liam and his brother, where we joked about training, my embarrassing lack of strength, and Logan made some odd comments about Liam, a dog, and a leash that I didn’t quite understand, Liam insisted on walking me home.

It’s funny, really. I live just two blocks away from him, in the safest neighborhood in town, and it’s only 6 PM—far from dark. But still, he wouldn’t hear of me walking alone. He wanted to make sure I was safe, and I couldn’t help but appreciate it, even if it was a little unnecessary.

Here we were, strolling down the street, him holding my pink bike with one hand, his other hand casually wrapped around mine. If anyone saw us, they’d probably think we were a couple. But I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I like Liam, or at least, I like his body. But I barely know anything about the guy. Sure, I know he’s been doing kickboxing since he was six, that he can get wild when he’s angry, and that he’s sweet and caring, but also loves teasing me. I also know he’s a player—he doesn't do relationships, and he has a type that definitely doesn’t include me.

I’m a hopeless romantic. I believe in true love—dreamy dates, butterflies in my stomach, little gestures that show how much you care. I daydream about receiving flowers, maybe even a sweet note or text. I want to be the one to make a guy smile, to be the one he looks at like his world starts and ends with me. I want commitment, holding hands in public, kisses shared in the open, and everyone knowing how much we love each other.

But Liam? He’s been honest with me from the start. He sees me as a friend, and he doesn’t do relationships.

"What are you thinking about?" Liam’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. His gaze is dark as he watches me, his thumb brushing the back of my hand.

“I was thinking I don’t know much about you," I admit, smiling slightly. "You know a lot about me, but I found out you take kickboxing classes since you were six from my dad."

He laughs, squeezing my hand, and my cheeks flush. "I’ve been training forever," he says, his voice warm. "We’ve only known each other three days, remember?"

I nod, feeling a little lighter at his words. It’s true—three days. But somehow, it feels like we’ve known each other much longer. In those few days, I’ve come to appreciate his presence, his kindness, and how safe I feel when he’s around.

"What do you want to know about me?" Liam asks, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

I’m about to answer when he pulls me closer, the bike wedged between us. His hands are on my face, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Tell me,” he repeats, his voice a mix of challenge and curiosity. “What do you want to know? Don’t be shy.”

I think about it for a moment, trying to figure out what I want to ask. What’s his favorite food? His best friend? What’s his first kiss like? But instead of asking any of that, I hear myself say:

“Why don’t you do relationships?” The question feels too big the moment it leaves my mouth.

He pulls his hands away from my face, placing them lightly on my hips, and I feel my stomach do an anxious flip.

“I just don’t,” he says softly, his voice steady. “It’s easier for me that way. I get bored of the girls around me, and honestly… once I’ve been with someone...”

His words trail off, and I notice how carefully he’s choosing them. He never swears or makes crude jokes around me. He’s always respectful, which, for some reason, makes the idea of him not wanting a relationship sting even more.

“Once you’ve been with them?” I ask, my voice light but curious. “You can curse around me, you know. I’m not five. Besides, Mary swears like a truck driver.”