“Wasn’t that one of your rules, though?” Cason asked. “Don’t bring feelings into it?”
“Romantic feelings,” I corrected, grabbing the sliced tomato and distributing it between our two bowls of lettuce. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly. I want you to think of me as a confidant. Someone you can come to if you have questions or just need a listening ear.”
Because if I wasn’t that person for Cason, who would be? He couldn’t talk to Ryan, and he didn’t have a good relationship with his mother.
“You’re the only person I have right now, Emery. The one person I can talk to.”
I hadn’t forgotten his words, and damn if I’d turn him away when he needed me. I was too involved now. Too wrapped up in him.
“You’ll be the Obi-Wan to my Anakin?”
I laughed. “Not quite. I won’t be showing you the ways of the Force, but I can show you fun things to do with your saber.”
Cason laughed so hard he snorted. The situation was completely ridiculous, but I found myself grinning so much my face started to hurt.
“Let’s eat,” I said, once the salads were ready.
“We’re eating in the living room?” Cason asked as I walked that way with my bowl.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah, totally.” He followed me to the couch and sat a cushion away so he could sprawl out. “Your house is just so nice. And clean. I didn’t expect you to be okay with food leaving the kitchen.”
“Have you met my son?”
“Ryan’s room is scary for sure,” Cason said. “Pretty sure there’s some monster growing under his bed, formed from an old ham-and-cheese sandwich dating back to last summer.”
“I’d laugh if it wasn’t so true.” I shuddered at the thought.
“Do you have a problem with germs?”
“No.”
Cason took a bite of his salad and chewed in silence before continuing, “Are you OCD, then?”
“Not exactly,” I answered, embarrassed. I hadn’t known it was so obvious. “I just prefer things a certain way. Order is important in my life, as is structure. I suppose thatisa form of OCD now that I say it out loud.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Cason said, looking at the TV as I went into the Netflix app and clicked on the Ted Bundy documentary. “I have a thing about my shoes and shirts. They have to be organized or it bugs me. Like T-shirts first, then dressier ones, then long sleeves. Hoodies in the back.”
He was trying to make me feel better. I appreciated it.
We stopped talking and ate as the show started. Even in the silence, I felt the connection sizzling between us. Like we were two magnets slowly being drawn together. By the time the second episode started, we were nearly on the same cushion.
Then he put a hand on my thigh.
“It’s cool that you do this shit for a living, and you like watching it too,” Cason said, turning his head to me. That close, I saw faint traces of orange in his brown eyes.
“I’m not a serial killer, Cason.”
He snorted. “No, I mean, you work in the criminal justice field.” He applied more pressure with his hand and moved it farther up my leg, his fingers so close to the part of me that wanted him most. “Is it hard to watch this stuff without thinking about methods the attorneys should’ve used? Not saying Bundy should’ve—”
I kissed him, turning my body in the process and pushing him to his back on the cushions. He tasted like ranch dressing, but I didn’t care. He was the best dressing I’d ever had, and I dipped my tongue into his mouth, gliding it across his.
Cason moaned, creating vibrations against my lips.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
“That tickled,” I said, before joining our lips again.
