The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 50
“Is it not? What do you think, Bryan?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Never been in love.”
“You haven’t?” He feigned horror. “Well, that’s a travesty. Isn’t it a travesty, Eilish?”
“Quite,” she replied absentmindedly, studying me now. She seemed surprised to hear I’d never been in love, but it was true. I hadn’t been lucid for much of my adult life, and certainly not enough to fall in love with someone. Not properly.
“Have you ever been in love, cousin?” Sean continued, a shine of mischief in his eyes.
“You already know the answer to that question, cousin,” Eilish bit back. He was obviously getting to her now.
“I, of course, had never known true love until I met Lucy. But my, when she came into my life it was like being swept up into the heart of a tornado. Everything changed,” he finished, scooping up the last of his pasta urbanely. I never knew it was possible to eat urbanely until I’d shared a meal with Sean Cassidy.
“Well, aren’t you one of the lucky ones,” said Eilish with a bit of sass and rose from the table. “If everybody’s finished eating I’m going to start on the dishes.”
Immediately, I stood, too, taking the plates from her. “Let me help.”
“No, that’s quite all right. You’re our guest.”
“And this guest is helping clean up,” I replied, standing firm. When I glanced at Sean, he was swiping his thumb over his chin and smiling happily, his gaze going back and forth between the two of us.
“I insist,” Eilish bit out, tugging the dishes back from me.
“So do I.”
“Oh, let him help. Doing the dishes is a very admirable quality in a gentleman,” said Sean, thoroughly amused.
“Fine. I’ll wash. You dry,” Eilish relented.
“And I’ll take Patrick upstairs to change into his pajamas,” said Sean, sweeping out of the room. A whoosh of air fled my lungs, emotion biting at me. I wished I could get him ready for bed, do all the mundane things I’d missed out on for years.
All that would come in time, I was sure.
But first, I needed to talk to Eilish.
I followed her into the kitchen and we worked silently for a few moments. She didn’t look at me, instead keeping her eyes on the dishes. I enjoyed this, washing dishes in her small kitchen. I was big and she was tall. We filled the space, but it meant we had to be close. It felt just right.
“I really am sorry about Trevor,” I said softly as I used a dish towel to dry the plates.
“It’s fine. I know you were only trying to help . . . in your own way,” she replied, using the back of her hand to swipe some hair out of her face. It fell forward again and she let out a huff of annoyance.
“Here, let me,” I offered, setting the dish towel aside. Her hands were in the suds and she froze when I gently pulled the tie from her hair, gathered its silky masses in my hands, and tied it in a neat ponytail. It was even softer than I imagined, and so thick. I allowed my knuckles to brush against the back of her neck and thought I saw her shiver in response.
“Eilish,” I whispered.
She turned her head a little to glance up at me. “Yes?”
I cleared my throat, unable to hold back what I wanted to say. “You have beautiful hair.”
She stiffened, her blue eyes going wide as saucers. I ran my knuckles over the back of her neck again, and again she shivered. “And the softest skin I’ve ever—”
“Eilish! Where are Patrick’s cowboy pajamas? He’s insisting on wearing them,” came Sean’s voice from beyond the small space, breaking the moment.
She jumped away from me, turning her face to call to her cousin, “They’re in the wash. He’ll have to wear a different pair.”
Her voice was strained. Had she felt that moment we just shared as much as I had? The need to touch her pulled me forward, pumped thick in my veins.
“Eilish—”
“Please be careful with that dish.” Her tone was unsteady, her attention firmly set on the sink. “It’s the only casserole I have and I use it every week.”
Studying her profile, I noticed her cheeks were flushed. If she’d felt it, she clearly didn’t wish to discuss it. Frustration built in my chest, the desire to feel her skin beneath my fingertips became an ache. I’d thought about her skin since laying eyes on her all those weeks ago at William’s party.
And yet . . . maybe this wasn’t the time or the place. I was only starting to get to know Patrick. Everything was still so new.
So I moved back. Knowing I’d overstepped unspoken boundaries, but unable to muster regret. Quietly, I finished drying the dishes.
Sean re-entered the kitchen a few minutes later, giving me a silent nod as if to say, we can go have our talk now.
“Patrick is ready for his story. Bryan and I better be off,” he said, bending to place a kiss atop Eilish’s head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, tomorrow,” she replied, giving her cousin a small smile before her gaze fell on me. “I, uh, suppose I’ll see you Monday, then. I can do some more work on your knee if you’d like.”
There was self-consciousness in her voice, and I knew it had taken courage to make the offer. I jumped on it immediately. “Yes, I’d love that. That’d be great.”
“Good. Well, bye, Bryan.” She nodded, apparently having difficulty meeting my gaze.
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Never been in love.”
“You haven’t?” He feigned horror. “Well, that’s a travesty. Isn’t it a travesty, Eilish?”
“Quite,” she replied absentmindedly, studying me now. She seemed surprised to hear I’d never been in love, but it was true. I hadn’t been lucid for much of my adult life, and certainly not enough to fall in love with someone. Not properly.
“Have you ever been in love, cousin?” Sean continued, a shine of mischief in his eyes.
“You already know the answer to that question, cousin,” Eilish bit back. He was obviously getting to her now.
“I, of course, had never known true love until I met Lucy. But my, when she came into my life it was like being swept up into the heart of a tornado. Everything changed,” he finished, scooping up the last of his pasta urbanely. I never knew it was possible to eat urbanely until I’d shared a meal with Sean Cassidy.
“Well, aren’t you one of the lucky ones,” said Eilish with a bit of sass and rose from the table. “If everybody’s finished eating I’m going to start on the dishes.”
Immediately, I stood, too, taking the plates from her. “Let me help.”
“No, that’s quite all right. You’re our guest.”
“And this guest is helping clean up,” I replied, standing firm. When I glanced at Sean, he was swiping his thumb over his chin and smiling happily, his gaze going back and forth between the two of us.
“I insist,” Eilish bit out, tugging the dishes back from me.
“So do I.”
“Oh, let him help. Doing the dishes is a very admirable quality in a gentleman,” said Sean, thoroughly amused.
“Fine. I’ll wash. You dry,” Eilish relented.
“And I’ll take Patrick upstairs to change into his pajamas,” said Sean, sweeping out of the room. A whoosh of air fled my lungs, emotion biting at me. I wished I could get him ready for bed, do all the mundane things I’d missed out on for years.
All that would come in time, I was sure.
But first, I needed to talk to Eilish.
I followed her into the kitchen and we worked silently for a few moments. She didn’t look at me, instead keeping her eyes on the dishes. I enjoyed this, washing dishes in her small kitchen. I was big and she was tall. We filled the space, but it meant we had to be close. It felt just right.
“I really am sorry about Trevor,” I said softly as I used a dish towel to dry the plates.
“It’s fine. I know you were only trying to help . . . in your own way,” she replied, using the back of her hand to swipe some hair out of her face. It fell forward again and she let out a huff of annoyance.
“Here, let me,” I offered, setting the dish towel aside. Her hands were in the suds and she froze when I gently pulled the tie from her hair, gathered its silky masses in my hands, and tied it in a neat ponytail. It was even softer than I imagined, and so thick. I allowed my knuckles to brush against the back of her neck and thought I saw her shiver in response.
“Eilish,” I whispered.
She turned her head a little to glance up at me. “Yes?”
I cleared my throat, unable to hold back what I wanted to say. “You have beautiful hair.”
She stiffened, her blue eyes going wide as saucers. I ran my knuckles over the back of her neck again, and again she shivered. “And the softest skin I’ve ever—”
“Eilish! Where are Patrick’s cowboy pajamas? He’s insisting on wearing them,” came Sean’s voice from beyond the small space, breaking the moment.
She jumped away from me, turning her face to call to her cousin, “They’re in the wash. He’ll have to wear a different pair.”
Her voice was strained. Had she felt that moment we just shared as much as I had? The need to touch her pulled me forward, pumped thick in my veins.
“Eilish—”
“Please be careful with that dish.” Her tone was unsteady, her attention firmly set on the sink. “It’s the only casserole I have and I use it every week.”
Studying her profile, I noticed her cheeks were flushed. If she’d felt it, she clearly didn’t wish to discuss it. Frustration built in my chest, the desire to feel her skin beneath my fingertips became an ache. I’d thought about her skin since laying eyes on her all those weeks ago at William’s party.
And yet . . . maybe this wasn’t the time or the place. I was only starting to get to know Patrick. Everything was still so new.
So I moved back. Knowing I’d overstepped unspoken boundaries, but unable to muster regret. Quietly, I finished drying the dishes.
Sean re-entered the kitchen a few minutes later, giving me a silent nod as if to say, we can go have our talk now.
“Patrick is ready for his story. Bryan and I better be off,” he said, bending to place a kiss atop Eilish’s head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, tomorrow,” she replied, giving her cousin a small smile before her gaze fell on me. “I, uh, suppose I’ll see you Monday, then. I can do some more work on your knee if you’d like.”
There was self-consciousness in her voice, and I knew it had taken courage to make the offer. I jumped on it immediately. “Yes, I’d love that. That’d be great.”
“Good. Well, bye, Bryan.” She nodded, apparently having difficulty meeting my gaze.
