FROM SPRING ROLLS TO BEDROLLS.....
1641 Words
The street was dimly lit, the hum of passing vehicles filling the silence. I raised my hand, flagged down a cab, and slid inside, shutting the door behind me.
The seat felt oddly comforting beneath me, the faint scent of car air freshener mixing with the smell of the takeout still clinging to my fingers. As the driver pulled away from the curb, the city lights began to blur past the window, little streaks of gold and white.
Every bump in the road, every turn of the wheel, felt like it was carrying me away from the noise, the drama, the heaviness of the house, and toward something warmer, softer. Toward him.
The closer we got, the faster my pulse raced. I could already imagine Kay’s smile when he opened the door, that familiar mix of mischief and tenderness in his eyes. For the first time in weeks, I felt light, almost giddy. Tonight, I wasn’t just leaving the house. I was running straight into the arms I’d been craving.
When the driver finally pulled up in front of his building, my stomach fluttered like I was some teenager on her first date. Pathetic? Maybe. But I didn’t care. I handed the driver the fare, stepped out, and adjusted my hair in the reflection of the apartment block’s glass door before heading inside.
By the time I reached his floor, my smile had already started creeping in, soft at first, then growing wider the closer I got to his door. And there I was, standing right in front of it, grinning like a complete lovesick fool.
I lifted my hand to knock, but I barely got halfway through the second tap when the door swung open, almost like he’d been standing there waiting for me.
And there he was.
Barefoot. Relaxed. Wearing a loose grey T-shirt that somehow managed to cling in just the right places, making me wonder if he’d been doing push-ups before I arrived just so he could look like that. Honestly? It wouldn’t surprise me. He was that kind of man, effortless but calculated.
“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe, his gaze sweeping over me in that slow, teasing way that always made my pulse trip.
“Look who decided to show up instead of letting her sister drive her insane.”
And just like that, the whole day of stress melted off me.
The moment I stepped inside, I rolled my eyes at him, though the corner of my mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile.
“Trust me,” I said, brushing past him into the familiar warmth of his apartment, “it was either come here or start packing my bags for a convent.”
I barely heard the click of the door shutting before I felt his arms around me, firm, warm, and grounding. The tension I’d been carrying all week seemed to dissolve the second his chest pressed against mine.
Without hesitation, I melted into him, breathing in that clean, faintly spicy scent that was so unmistakably Kay.
His hand slid to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair in slow, almost possessive strokes, like he wasn’t planning on letting me go anytime soon.
My shoulders dropped, my body relaxing in ways I didn’t even realize I needed.
“I missed you,” he murmured against my temple, his voice low and almost reverent.
I let out a small laugh, the sound softer than I intended.
“I saw you ten days ago,” I teased, though there was no bite in my tone, just warmth.
He pulled back slightly, just enough for me to see the smirk tugging at his lips.
“Ten days is twenty years in boyfriend time,” he said, as if it were a universal truth.
I shook my head at him, but the truth was, I felt it too. Ten days without him had felt like an eternity.
In the kitchen, the scent hit me first, warm, savory, and familiar enough to make my stomach tighten with anticipation. The takeout containers were already spread across the counter, little clouds of steam curling lazily into the air as if the food was still sighing from the heat.
“Sit,” Kay said, his voice casual but carrying that undertone that always made it hard to refuse him. He pulled out a chair with a smooth motion, like this was some kind of dinner date.
I arched a brow, settling into the chair.
“Well, look at you, Mr. Domestic,” I teased, letting the corner of my mouth lift.
He gave a short scoff, already busy opening containers.
“Please. If you think I’m doing this for a presentation, you’re giving me too much credit.”
He reached for a plate, his movements quick and precise.
“I just don’t want to watch you burn your tongue trying to eat straight from the box.”
I bit back a smile. For all his nonchalance, there was something almost… careful in the way he portioned the food, making sure everything landed neatly on the plate. When he slid it in front of me, my chest warmed for a reason that had nothing to do with the steam rising off the meal.
It was exactly how I liked it, Creamy pasta heaped beside glossy, spicy chicken, with those perfectly golden spring rolls tucked at the edge like a secret treat. I didn’t even remember telling him my favorite combination, but clearly, he’d been paying attention.
The first bite was heaven, rich flavors, and just enough spice to make my lips tingle. I couldn’t stop the soft groan that escaped me.
“Oh my God,” I murmured around the mouthful.
That smirk of his appeared instantly, slow and knowing.
“Don’t make sounds like that baby, unless you’re ready to finish what you start.”
My eyes flew wide, and I nearly choked on the rice, grabbing for my water.
“You’re impossible,” I sputtered, trying to sound annoyed, but the heat creeping up my neck betrayed me.
He only shrugged, that smug glint in his eyes saying exactly what he didn’t dare voice aloud.
I watched him from across the table, trying to act like I was focused on my food.
Big mistake.
The way he rolled his sleeves up, exposing those veins and forearms, should’ve been illegal. His fork moved lazily, his eyes occasionally flicking to mine like he knew exactly what he was doing.
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping low enough to curl right into my spine.
“And yet… you keep coming back.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks before I could hide it. I tried to glare, but my lips betrayed me, tugging upward.
“Eat your food before it gets cold,” I muttered, stabbing my fork into my rice just to have something to look at that wasn’t him
For a while, we just ate in silence. But it wasn’t awkward... no, it was… comfortable. The kind of quiet that wraps around you like a soft blanket. The clink of cutlery on porcelain filled the air, blending with the low hum of the ceiling fan above us.
I was halfway through my plate when, out of nowhere, Kay’s hand darted across the table and stole a spring roll from my plate.
“Hey!” I gasped, narrowing my eyes.
He didn’t even look guilty. He bit into it with slow satisfaction, his grin infuriatingly smug.
“What’s yours is mine,” he said around the mouthful.
“Mm-hmm,” I said sweetly, sliding my chicken further onto my side of the plate and guarding it with my fork.
“And what’s mine stays mine.”
He leaned back in his chair, that lazy smirk deepening.
“Not when you’re at my place. House rules.”
I tilted my head.
“House rules? What are we, a couple?”
“Not yet,” he said so casually I almost choked on my drink.
“Kay…” I warned, though the flutter in my stomach wasn’t helping my case.
“What?” He feigned innocence, leaning forward again, resting his elbows on the table.
“If you keep showing up here, I’m just saying… people might start talking.”
I rolled my eyes.
“People? Or just you?”
“Me,” he said without hesitation. “Definitely me.”
My lips twitched despite myself, a laugh threatening to escape.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He tilted his head again, gaze dipping down my neckline for a second too long.
“Oh, I’ve got a few more house rules you haven’t heard yet.”
I rolled my eyes, but my pulse jumped.
“Like what? Eat off Janella’s plate until she starves?”
He smirked, swirling the last bit of drink in his glass.
“Rule number two, if you keep looking at me like that, you’re gonna end up dessert.”
My fork froze midair.
“You wish.”
His grin sharpened.
“No, sweetheart. I promise.”
My mouth went dry, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
“Then I guess I should eat slow,” I teased, dragging my tongue over my bottom lip as I picked up another bite.
He watched every movement like a predator tracking prey.
“Careful, Jay… the way you’re sitting there, looking all soft and edible… you’re already in my trap.”
“And what happens in this trap?” I asked, leaning forward just enough for my knee to brush his under the table.
His reply came without hesitation, voice a dangerous purr.
“You don’t get out until I’ve tasted every damn part of you.”
The air between us thickened, and suddenly the food wasn’t the main course anymore.
- Writer
