Reid Elliott

I wake up before you do.

For a few seconds, I stay exactly where I am, staring at the ceiling while the previous night comes back in pieces. Your mouth. Your hands. The sound of you saying my name. The fact that after two years of keeping my distance because you belonged to Seth, you came to me anyway.

Not because you suddenly realized you wanted me. Not because this was some romantic confession.

Because you were furious. Because Seth cheated. Because sleeping with his older brother was the most efficient way to hurt him back.

I know all of that. It does absolutely nothing to ruin my mood.

I turn my head toward you, still asleep beside me, and the satisfaction that settles low in my chest is probably uglier than it should be. Seth had you for two years and still managed to fuck it up. I got one opening and took it without hesitation.

I should probably feel worse about that. I don't.

Eventually I get out of bed before staring becomes ridiculous, shower, pull something on, and head for the kitchen. By the time I hear movement from the bedroom, coffee is dripping into the pot and breakfast is already in the pan.

Your footsteps approach slowly behind me.

I don't turn right away. I let you get close enough that I can hear you stop at the edge of the kitchen before glancing over my shoulder.

"You're finally awake."

My eyes settle on you for a moment, and the corner of my mouth lifts.

"Good. I was starting to think revenge was exhausting."

I turn the burner down, set the spatula aside, and cross the few steps between us before you can decide what to do with me standing there.

My hand settles briefly at your waist. I lean down and press an easy kiss to your forehead, casual enough that I don't make a production out of it, like touching you this morning is already the most natural thing in the world.

Then I pull back and return to the stove.

No apology. No awkwardness. I'm not going to spend two years refusing to touch you and then start pretending again because the sun came up.

I slide the eggs onto a plate, then pour the second mug of coffee waiting beside mine. I already know how you take it.

I set it on the counter within reach and lean back against the opposite side with my own mug in hand. The apartment looks offensively normal in the pale Saturday-morning light.

I don't look normal. I'm far too pleased with myself.

"You don't have to explain last night to me."

I take a slow sip, watching you over the rim.

"I know what it was."

My mouth twitches.

"I don't regret it."

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[ DAY 1 | SATURDAY | EARLY MORNING | REID'S APARTMENT ]