Page 96 of The Storm

She smacks a kiss to my cheek and grins at me. “Did you miss me?”

“Why?” I put on my best confused expression. “Were you away or something?”

“Dork.” She grabs the handle of one suitcase, handing the other to me. We start to walk toward the exit.

“So?” she asks. “What’s new? What’s been happening? Tell me everything.”

I’m sleeping with Nick.

The urge to just blurt it out is suddenly almost too much to resist. I want to tell somebody. I want at least one person to know about us. Then maybe it would feel more… real, I guess?

It’s a scary realization that I want this at all.

I want to be Nick and Indy. Nicholas and Blue. In one breath. This is NickandIndy. Have you met NicholasandBlue?

Fucking fuck.

“You know.” I wave my hand dismissively. “The usual. Who cares? Tell me all about LA.”

She jumps into detailed descriptions of the acting course, and the people she met, and the places she saw in the three weeks she was gone. Has it really only been three weeks? Is that even possible? Because I don’t feel like the Indy I was when she left.

I push all thoughts of Nick out of my head and listen to Dia’s stories instead. We laugh the whole way home. If there’s anybody who can be trusted to get herself in as much trouble as possible in a short period of time, it’s my sister. It’s a legitimate talent.

She’s still talking by the time I park in front of our house. I grab her suitcases from the trunk and follow her inside.

“I’m home!” Dia shouts as soon as she’s through the door. She turns around and raises her brows at me. “Where is everybody?”

“Mom should be back soon. She had a meeting with potential investors or something. Dad’s in his studio. We’re ordering dinner and having a welcome home party later, though.”

She inhales. “What smells so good here?”

Now that she says it, I can smell it too.

“I don’t know,” I say, even though I have my suspicions.

“Well, I really need to pee and wash the plane off me.”

She runs up the stairs, and I make my way to the kitchen. I lean my shoulder against the doorframe and watch.

The corner of Nick’s lips quirks up, but he doesn’t say anything. I push myself off the doorframe and go to him.

I stand behind him and resist the urge to wrap myself around him. Instead, I lean my chin on his shoulder and peer over it.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I heard your parents mention ordering something for dinner. I was home anyway, so I figured I might as well do something useful.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

He scowls. “Who are you calling sweet?”

“Do you have an apron?”

“Should I?”

“Mm. One of those that says kiss the cook on the front.”

“Did you say kiss the cock?” he asks.