Jace sighs dramatically. “Then teach me how to properly dice apples like a respectable sous chef. Let me beprofessional, like you stupid King people.”
I chuckle, nudging him with my shoulder as I grab another crate of apples and plop them into the sink. “Wash these first. Then I’ll show you how to cut them so fast Gordon Ramsay would be jealous.”
He snorts. “No way. You’re notthatfast.”
“Watch me.”
“You know I love watching you,” he says, pinching my ass with a grin. “Today is all about thanks, right? Well, I’m verythankfulfor those pants.”
He winks at me before grabbing a couple of apples and getting to work.
“Well…” J snickers as he hops off the counter and starts measuring out the spices for the apple crumble we’re serving later, “I guess he’s back to himself, huh?”
I grin at my man, who’s absolutely butchering the poor apples, looking ridiculous in his shorts and tee combined with a damn beanie.
Yeah. He’s actually wearing a knitted black beanie with orange trim, one my mom made for him. Even though it’s like seventy degrees out, he didn’t want to disappoint her by not wearing it.
I’m honestly not sure how I’m going to get him out of it… especially since I brought the surf gear. It’s sitting on the back porch, boards prepped, waiting for us. We still haven’t had time to hit the water since he’s been back.
Even though we wake up together almost every day now, things have been hectic. I’ve got classes, games, and more practice than ever, and Jace has to head into LA every other day.
They’ve started working on the new album, the interviews haven’t stopped, they’ve done short performances here and there, and, on top of it all, they just got nominated for two major awards.
I couldn’t be more proud if I fucking tried.
Still, even with us now living in the same house, same state, we don’t see each other as much as I want. I want to see him every damn day.
We try, though. We squeeze in morning jogs whenever we can, where he trails behind me checking out my ass, and always end up on our bench to watch the world wake up. He even made me play soccer with him once when my team had the day off. I didn’t tell him it was boring as fuck (still don’t get what’s so fun about kicking a ball back and forth) but I did it for him.
But today? Today, I’ve got plans. Boards. Ocean. Sunset. Him. Us.
My mom walks in just then, apron smudged, but her smile is wide, like it is every year. She gives usthatlook, the one that says she knows everything without saying a word.
“You boys have done enough,” she says, gently swatting a towel at Jace’s hand. “Let us handle the rest of the dessert. I’ll set some food aside for you on the back deck so you can eat after you catch those waves.”
I eye my mom in gratitude, and she pats me on the back before nudging Jace away from the cutting board.
“Well, I want to say thank you for helping,” she teases, holding up the tray of very uneven apple pieces, “but these don’t exactly look like diced apples. What are they? Apple chunks? Apple boulders?”
“Mom,” I mutter, half laughing.
She grins and winks at Jace as she steals his knife. “I’m kidding, honey. They’re perfect. Now shoo. Out of my kitchen. Go surf and becoolor something before the sun’s gone.”
“What? I really can’t help serving food?”
She waves the knife at him like a sword. “No. Not unless you want to cause a damn riot with half the line vying for a selfie and the other half asking for autographs. We’re trying to keep this about the community, remember?”
Jace—honest to God—pouts, before I grab his wrist and tug him toward the staff exit at the back of the diner.
“I love that you guys do this,” he says as we step outside and turn to the side deck, reserved for staff only, tucked just out of sight from the guests. Our surfboards and wetsuits are waiting for us, propped against and over the railing like they’re as ready as we are.
Following him down the back steps toward the beach, boards under one arm, suits in hand, I can’t stop smiling, giddy that we’re finally hitting the waves after all this time.
Jace kicks off his sneakers and pulls off his socks the second we hit the sand and digs his toes in deep. His smile is so wide it stretches clear across his face. The sun’s lower now, castingeverything in gold, making him look so damn beautiful, and the breeze off the ocean is soft, salty, and warm.
It’s quiet here. Most people are still inside, enjoying Thanksgiving, eating with family, catching up, laughing. A few wander along the edge of the water, but this stretch feels like it’s just ours.
We make our way toward one of the little changing huts to change into our wetsuits without flashing half the damn coast, and duck inside. It should’ve taken, what, five minutes? But shit, Jace is all warm skin and wandering hands, tugging at my clothes like they offend him. I try to focus, really, Ido. But then he leans in, mouth brushing my jaw, all smug and sweet and seductive, and suddenly I forget wetsuits evenexist.
