Page 16 of Wild Like Us

“Says the girl who eats jellybeans on waffles.”

“I’ve only done that twice.” I untwist the bread bag. “Jellybeans are better with chocolate syrup on a spoon.”

“Anyone ever tell you that’s fucking disgusting?” He tucks his hair beneath his left ear, then right.

I take out two slices. “All the fucking time. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“Same here,” he nods to the ricotta. “My grandma eats rigott’ and toast every morning.” He plucks the bread from my hands and pops the slices in the toaster.

“I can finish breakfast for you since you’re not feeling that great.”

“It’s just a headache, not a coma.” He rubs his eyes though, and the smile he tries to give me is brief and weak.

Still, I grab a knife for the ricotta. “I’ve never seen you complain when Thatcher does stuff for you.”

“He’s my twin. He’s duty-bound from birth to do shit for me.” He watches me pop the ricotta lid. “Look, I’m not that much of a gobbadost’—I just don’t want you to think I’m dying here.”

He’s said that Italian-American word before.Gobbadost’.For the life of me, I can’t remember what it means. So I guess, “You’re not that much of an idiot?”

Banks almost laughs. “Hardhead.”

“Fuck, I was not close.” The toast ejects. “And I don’t think you’re dying, so can I?” I reach for the warm bread.

He nods and lets me spread ricotta on the toast. “You gonna try it?”

“Just a bite.” I cringe as I keep spreading. “It looks gross, like cottage cheese.”Which has the consistency of curdled sour cream.

“Food doesn’t need to look pretty to be good.”

I drop the knife in the sink. “In my case, food that looks like a unicorn farted all over it is the best food.” I just stare at the bland finished product on the paper plate. Like maybe in a couple fucking seconds it’ll look more appetizing.

Banks picks up the toast. “Close your eyes.”

I zero in on his closeness. My breath shallows because his eyes flit around my features in a way that I almost believe he thinks I’m pretty to look at. While he towers above me, a feat in itself, I gently close my eyes. For a moment, I pretend he’s about to kiss me.

Not a gentle peck either. Like a grab your face, push you against the counter, leave you utterly fucking breathlesskiss.

“Take a bite.”

Definitely not about to kiss.But I smile as the toast nudges against my shut lips. I take a tiny bite. Tasting mostlyplainness. So I take a bigger one, and the ricotta is just…

My eyes open, face contorting. I chew slowly.Ugh.

Banks laughs, then uses his foot to pry open a sliding drawer to a trash bin. I spit out the half-mashed bite of toast.

“You sure that’s not in the cottage cheese family?” I sip from my water bottle.

“It’s…” He trails off as we hear footsteps towards the bedrooms.

The noise stops.

My eyes skim the width of their apartment. I’m not here a lot, if ever. Usually they’ll just come hang out at the penthouse. It’s clean for four guys crashing here, but this is about how clean security’s townhouse was too. No crushed, empty beers cans, no panties or bras lying around. It looks more like a professional sleep-space.

So maybe Akara is just taking a 4 a.m. business call?

A door creaks open. Just as I take a swig of water, a shirtless Akara Kitsuwon saunters towards the kitchen.

Ichokeagain.