Page 38 of Needed You

“It looks sore.”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t feel good. But I’ll be fine.”

I add another egg to the pan. “Do you want coffee? I have breakfast started.” I tip my head toward the pan on the stove where I’m scrambling the eggs.

Dare smiles. “And I get breakfast the next morning. I need to take a few punches more often,” he teases. “I’d love some coffee. And food.”

“How about some ice, too?” I say, and when he shrugs a noncommittal response, I turn the heat down lower on the stove so the eggs don’t burn, then grab a Ziploc bag out of the drawer and fill it with ice. I take a clean dish towel and wrap it around the bag. “Here, put this on your eye.”

I hand him the package and kiss his forehead. I don’t know what the boundary is right now, but I figure a forehead kiss is safe. And I guess it’s okay with him, because he gives me a soft smirk and lifts the ice to his eye. My heart warms in my chest as I plate up the food and pour him some coffee. After I set the full plate and his cup of plain black coffee in front of him, I join him at the table. We eat in silence, a light feeling of awkwardness between us.

A couple of minutes later, when I can’t stand the quiet anymore, I put my fork down. “I’m sorry about your—”

“Don’t,” he cuts in. “Please. Don’t feel sorry for me, Lev. You didn’t do this.” His voice changes, taking on a tighter tone, and a darkness passes over his face.

I make a mental note to be more cautious with that. Dare clearly doesn’t like when someone pities or feels sorry for him. We sit in silence for a few more minutes while we finish breakfast.

When I’m done, I lean back in my chair a bit. “What are your plans today?” I ask, picking up my coffee cup. I take the last sip of the bitter liquid that’s settled at the bottom.

I must make a face because Dare laughs. “Oh, I’m hanging out with my buddy Ryan later. Do you know him?”

I purse my lips. “I don’t think so, outside of people talking about him being your friend or associating your names with each other.”

“Ah, okay. Well, he’s . . . he’s my best friend. He has a girlfriend named Katie, and they’re freaking joined at the hip.” A smirk crosses his lips, and he pulls the bag of ice away from his eye and sets it on the table.

“Yeah, Lindsey has talked about her. I think they’re friends or something. Do you like her?” I ask.

“Yeah, she’s cool. She and Ryan are pretty perfect for each other.”

“That’s cool.” Why is this conversation a little awkward? I had the guy’s tongue down my throat and slept in bed with him last night. I should be able to talk to him.

He must be feeling the same way, because he suddenly blurts out, “So I didn’t get that contract that we were talking about at the lake.” Before I can answer, he stands up and takes his coffee cup and plate to the sink.

I copy him, standing up to move my dishes to the sink, and because I don’t want to tell him I’m sorry, I say, “Well, that really sucks.”

“Yeah, it actually does, but it’s okay.” He shrugs and leans up against the counter. “I have a few other things brewing and some bids out. I think I’m going to stick to some smaller accounts for a while. They seem to pay more for the time I spend on them. I should be hearing back about a few bids soon, actually, so I think I’ll be okay.”

He gets this adorable spark when he talks about his work and art. I love that he has something he loves to do. I feel like I could sit and listen to Darian talk about anything, and it would make me happy.

He glances up at me through his long lashes. “So what’s been going on at the shop?”

I can’t help that I smile. He’s taking an interest in me and what makes me happy. “It’s going really well,” I tell him. “I really like it, and making the transition hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be. My uncle ran a great business, so stepping in was easy. You should come see it sometime,” I venture.

Dare smiles at me. “I’d love to. But, um, like I said at the lake, I know nothing about motorcycles. Or the mechanics of them.” He chuckles quietly.

“I’ll teach you everything I know,” I flirt. He smiles.

I know that our time this morning is running out. Although a little awkward, it’s got a certain level of its own comfort now that we seem to have worked through the original awkwardness. I’m not sure if we’re going to talk about what happened last night or what we want to happen next, but I do know that I don’t want what’s happening and blooming between us to be over. I don’t want last night to be the only time anything like that happens, and I do want to get to know Dare more, in whatever capacity he’s comfortable with.

Dare clearly senses my thoughts in the moment and excuses himself to go back to my room. He comes out dressed in his clothes from last night. I look up from my phone.

“You’re leaving.” It comes out as a statement, not a question.

Dare rubs the back of his neck, looking down at the ground and then back up at me again. “Yeah, I just . . . I think I should go. I have to shower and stuff. Ryan is coming to get me, so you don’t need to take me home or anything.”

“Oh, okay. I could have . . .” I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t know what it is about Dare that makes my brain so mushy. Ugh. But I can’t even form a full sentence around him right now, and I’m not sure what I was really expecting for today, but I know I had expected to at least drive him home.

He stands in the kitchen by the door, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands in his pockets. Is he nervous?