Why the hell am I nervous?Blaze is hot, yeah—but that shouldn’t be enough to turn my brain to mush.
“Hey, Cameron,” Blaze says, stepping into the kitchen and grabbing a fork from the drawer.He leans on the other side of the counter, casual, confident.
“Hi,” I reply, voice quieter than I mean it to be.I don’t look up.
He helps himself to a forkful of my spaghetti like it’s no big deal, bringing it to his mouth and chewing slowly.When I finally glance up, he’s watching me—smirking as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I quickly look away, tapping the counter with nervous fingers.
He chews dramatically, his eyes meeting mine.“Damn, you can cook.”
Before I can respond, Carter swoops in and grabs another fork.“Your mom teach you?”Carter asks with a mouthful of pasta.
“Yeah,” I nod.“She owns a bakery.”
“Figures,” Blaze says, grinning.“This tastes like something you’d get at an actual restaurant.”
They dig in like I offered to feed them, and I sit there awkwardly, wondering if it would be weird to reclaim my own plate.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Fox watching us from the couch.He hasn’t moved.Hasn’t spoken.But he’s definitely listening.
“You should make this more often,” Carter says, clearly impressed.“Fox tried this yet?”
“No,” I say quietly.
“Fox, you gotta try this!”Blaze calls out.
Predictably, Fox says nothing.Just stares at the TV like we don’t exist.
Carter shrugs and turns his attention back to me.“So, how come you’re friends with Landon?That gay slut’s hooked up with half the guys on campus, hasn’t he?”
My stomach drops.The comment slaps the air right out of the room.
“He’s my friend,” I say, my voice sharp with warning.
Carter blinks, caught off guard by my tone.“Yeah, but—”
“Shut up, Carter,” Blaze snaps, suddenly serious.“Don’t talk shit about someone’s friend like that.Not cool.”
Carter mutters something under his breath, dumps his fork in the sink, and retreats back to the living room like a scolded child.
Blaze lingers behind, giving me an apologetic look.“Sorry about that.He doesn’t know when to shut up.”
“It’s fine,” I lie.It’s not.
Blaze glances at the empty plate.“There’s still some left, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.You should eat up and come hang out with us.You’ve been hiding in your room too much lately.”
I hesitate.Every part of me wants to say no.
But then I glance at Fox again—still on the couch, still pretending not to care, still definitely paying attention.
“Sure,” I say.
Even as I force the word out, I already know one thing:
