“Jeez,” I groan. “Direct hit.”
“I’m teasing, you’re all adorable.” She laughs, full-on this time. Something about the sound sets fire to my bloodstream.
“I knew it,” I mutter. “You came here to destroy me.”
Her eyes sparkle as she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, fingers still buried in my bag of LEGOs like she’s mining for treasure. “I didn’tcomehere to destroy you. That part is a happy accident.”
Nova never said anything about her best friend being a clever beast; all she told was she didn’t cause drama, kept to herself, and worked a ton.
“Anyway,” she says after a pause, “I’m not usually this social with new roommates. I think I’m still riding the high of not knowing anyone in town. Or maybe it’s the high of witnessing my roommate’s…” She trails off, eyes widening slightly. “LEGO skills. Obviously.”
She saidwitnessing.
My body goes still.
Oh no.
Is she referencinglast night?
She’s smirking, but I can’t tell if it’s because she knows what she’s doing or because she has no idea.
I let out a breath. “They’re robust skills.”
“Clearly.”
And now I’m just sitting here, half-hard in gym shorts, sweating through my T-shirt, trying not to read too much into every breath she takes.
“Do you want to keep me company while I finish the roof?” I ask.
She looks up from the pile, biting her lip. “Sure. As long as you don’t mind me touching your bricks.”
“Oh, I, uh—yeah. Touch away.”
Good god listen to me.
She hums and picks through the LEGO sorted pieces, completely unaware that every graze of her fingertips to my bricks sends shockwaves through my nervous system.
Or maybe sheisaware.
I focus on the roof—on aligning the tiny gray shingles just right—but she’s twirling a corner piece between her fingers and watching me with this mischievous expression on her face.
“This part of the castle is definitely missing a turret,” she says, holding up a curved piece. “Or a lookout tower.” She hums again. “Somewhere our queen can roll her eyes at the things a man says.”
I tap the middle of the build. “Right here. Perhaps placed between the library and the armory. You know, got to have priorities.”
She grins and nudges my knee under the table. “Ahh. A well-read warlord. Sexy.”
The heat from that single nudge travels straight to my bloodstream. My heart is practicing a drumline routine in mychest. I focus on attaching the next wall, and when she leans closer to inspect it, I can smell her shampoo.
“I needed this,” she admits. “Stupid and fun.”
“Well,” I say, nudging a green brick toward her. “It might be stupid and fun now, but wait till we start decorating the banquet hall. That’s when things get serious. Tiny goblets of rock.”
Poppy studies my face, eyes sparkling. “You’ve got something on your cheek.”
I blink. “Do I?”
“Mmmhmm. Here.” She reaches out before I can finish the sentence, fingertip brushing across my cheekbone. Soft. Warm. Lingering too long.
