27
Finn
Iwakeup to the smoke alarm going off, theshrillsoundpiercing my ears. I hopout of bed, losing my balance as Irushtothedoor. There's athick cloud of smoke creeping along the ceiling and I can hear Hope swearing in the kitchen."Fucking cuntbacon."
"Queenie, what the fuck are you doing?"I round the corner and find Hope standing at the stove, grey sweatpants on and a tight t-shirt that clings to her tiny waist.
"Well, I was frying bacon.” I stand, dumbfounded in the entrance to the kitchen.
“You were frying bacon?”
“Look,” she turns around. “I wanted bacon. I didn’t have bacon and your house is closer than the shop. Anyway, the grease caught fire and I had to put that shit out. I burnt the toast and the eggs..." she glances tothe onlyfrying pan not smoking, "the eggs are fine."
"Well one in three is..." I drift off. Jesus she can’t cook. Hell, I don't think I've ever seen her eat anything that wasn't take out or made by Poppy, and for some damn reason, I find it endearing.
She glances around. "Fuck this, I'm going to the bakery."
I snag her around the waist as she goes to move past me. She stares up at me and this awkward tension thrums between us. My gaze drops to her full lips and fuck; I want to kiss them. I swallow and my fingers twitch over her waist. Inhaling, I wet my lip with my tongue, debating on slamming her against the wall and kissing her, fucking her on the counter.Jesus, Finn.This is a disaster.We are not friends, no matter how many times we say we are. She’s staring at me, her chest rising in uneven swells before I release her. “Bakery sounds good.”
She slowly nods and turns around, walking out of the kitchen. I hear the front door open. “Be back in a few she says.”
“Okay.”
The door closes and I let go of the breath I was holding, immediately reaching down to adjust the ever-present hard-on I’ve come to develop around her. I swipe my hands down my face and grab the skillet with the charred bacon, dumping the mess into the trash. I get the kitchen cleaned up and back into order just as Hope comes bustling through the door, clutching a bakery bag in her hand. She takes out a croissant and holds it up to my face.
“I don’t—” I literally choke on my words as she shoves half the greasy croissant down my throat.
Smiling, she nods her head. “Delicious, I know.”
She takes the croissant and bites into it, her eyes fluttering closed on a moan. “Fucking amazing.”
She licks her lips. I can't help but stare at her tongue swiping over her lips. My dick swells again at the thought of her mouth and…
"It's okayFinnley." She drags her thumb over mybottomlip and then licks her thumb. "I'll let you play hunter-gatherer."
I nod. "Uh-huh.” Some of the filling falls from the croissant, landing on her tight, white top. My eyes automatically fall to her chest. She rubs her hand over her shirt, smearing the stain over her chest. That shouldn’t be hot, but it is. Does she not understand what she’s doing to me? Dear god. She must. I don’t know how much longer I can be around her like this. Alone. Horny. Fuck.
"What do you want to do today?" she asks.
I frown. "The same as I do every day."
"Ugh!” She rolls her eyes. “No, we are going out."
"Going out where?" I'm not overly fond of Hope'srandomexcursions.
Sheshrugsoneshoulder."Whoknows?That’swhatmakeslifefun,Finnley,notknowing."
* * *
Thelittlebellto the shop jingles and theAsianman glancesup fromthefrontdesk. He smiles at Hope and ushers us both to some leather recliner looking chair. Hope plops down,kickingher flip-flops off as she swings around into the seat. He motions at me to take my shoes off. "No," I say andstartto stand. Hope points at me.
"Sit,Finnley. Or no more bingo."
I glare at her and fall back in the seat,quicklykicking offmy trainers and peeling my socks from my feet. The man sits on awheelychair and rollsin front of thebasinto my chair, turning the taps. He glances at my feet and wrinkles his noseshouting something in Asian to another worker. They both laugh.
"Ah, you got little hobbit feet," Hope snickers.
"And you have FredFlintstonefeet." I glare at her.
