Page 7 of Captured Memories
Whatever had happened since he last saw her added a hesitancy to her steps and iced over those once clear eyes. She wielded sarcasm with a bitter whip, and he recognized his own tactics a mile away. Curiosity kept him in the game, even when he should have been walking the other way.
Already, the smell of grease and cheese wafting his way from the pizzas at Slice of Heaven made his stomach rumble. Although he’d spent all night preparing meals for the patrons, he’d been so busy he hadn’t eaten. He glanced over to catch Liv’s eyes on him, an inquisitive look on her face.
“Why a chef?” she asked, stretching her arms behind her back as they slowed. “Thought you were interested in engineering way back when—you used to ace your math and science classes.”
Zane rifled a hand through his hair, loosening the knot he’d pulled it into while at work. The past left a bitter film on his tongue. Back in high school, even with the problems going on at home, a big, bright future had sprawled out ahead of him. All too fast those outlooks had narrowed until he counted himself lucky to survive to the next day.
“Jail time is what happened,” he said as they headed down the alley to the aluminum steps leading to his apartment. “Turns out a felony isn’t much of a resume booster. See what I mean by this whole thing’s a big waste of time? College grad like you has options.” The steps rattled as he led the way up, but when a second pair of footsteps didn’t follow, he paused and turned around.
Liv stood at the bottom clutching the railing tight, refusing to look at him. “Not if you dropped out,” she muttered.
Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. Way to make her feel like shit, asshole. He wasn’t just a fuck-up, but a grade-A jerk.
“Well then you’ve qualified to hang out in my shit-shack with me. Come on up and we can bitch about the plutocracy.” He leaned against the railing around his landing, his grip tightening. Liv’s lips pursed before she looked at him, the spark returning to her eyes. She moved up his steps with effortless grace, the slight rattle of the aluminum the only indication—nothing like the way he stomped up with creaks and groans abounding.
Zane opened his door, greeted by the stale darkness inside the place that had been vacant for a good part of the day. A hiss sounded through the apartment, the Glade plug-in he’d nabbed from the grocery store squirting some fresh and clean scent. Flicking on the light, dim amber rays illuminated the threadbare maroon couch that had seen better years and the scratch-and-dent coffee table from Goodwill. Most of the time he was too busy escorting visitors to his bedroom to give a damn what they thought about his furniture choices, but he ducked his head as she entered, and he quick-stepped to the kitchen in an attempt to lead her away.
Liv didn’t seem to be paying his furniture any attention though, the full force of her gaze remaining glued on him. The tension made the room seem that much smaller, like it shrunk a little more every second their eyes locked.
Zane opened up the fridge, the chill cooling off his heated skin. “What can I get you to drink? I’ve got raspberry seltzer, orange juice, or tea.”
“What happened to your undying love of IPAs?” Liv asked, leaning against the short amount of counter space in his cramped kitchen. “You used to slam those things like nobody’s business.”
A flush of shame hit his cheeks, making him grateful for the cover of his tan skin. Zane hunched in front of the fridge, warring like he always did with blurting out the truth or making up some bullshit. Most folks blanched when you broadcast your inability to imbibe alcohol without becoming a raging waste of life; even if they gave the polite nod or murmur of understanding, judgment followed in their eyes every time.
“Don’t drink anymore,” he settled on the truth, even if he skated the edges of the whole, ugly story. “Not like that.”
“I’ll take the seltzer then, rockstar,” she said with a wink, allaying the awkwardness in his statement.
He snagged the bottle from the fridge and glanced to her. “You hungry at all?”
“You just got off your shift, Z. I’m not going to make you work some more.” She shook her head, even though her stomach rumbled in response.
A smile curved his lips. “Quit playing martyr. I’ve got leftovers I can heat for us.” He dipped into his fridge and pulled out some containers. After turning the oven on, he slid the glass containers inside—he’d made a couple more servings than necessary the other day, he tended to do that a lot. The downside of the love for cooking he’d cultivated was the lack of people to share said meals with. At the end of the day, he sat by his lonesome, scarfing food under the half-burnt lightbulb in his living room.
“To think, you were right under my nose all this time,” Liv said, shaking her head, a rueful smile on her face as she rested her palms behind her on the granite-lined countertop.
“You still living in Indian Hills like your folks?” Zane asked, pouring them each a glass of seltzer water. As he passed the tumbler over to her, their hands brushed. The connection sizzled so electric, so igniting he almost dropped the glass. A mere touch from her lit his veins on fire, and based on the way her full lips pursed and she scanned the length of him, he wasn’t alone in his reaction.
Liv knocked back the glass, drinking the seltzer like water. Her tongue snuck out as she licked her upper lip, and he watched the motion, desperate to taste her. “Nah, moved to Meadowlane Apartments right outside the city post-college. Since I’ve got gigs all over the place, it’s been a solid location.”
The oven added to the heat blooming between them. The hunger in Liv’s eyes had nothing to do with the food he warmed up for them, and everything to do with the stolen kisses of teenagers and the unresolved way they had left things. Even with the fair share of women Zane had tangled with through the years, he had always yearned for her and never forgotten the unique connection they’d shared.
Liv rummaged through his kitchen, peeking into the unlabeled canisters with the methodical curiosity that was always a part of her personality.
“See something you like?” he asked, lifting his brows.
“Yeah, I do.” Her tongue glided over her canine tooth in a liquid motion that sent his blood flowing south. He wanted her in the way he yearned for a glass of bourbon, a fury pounding through his bones, in his brain. When they were kids, they had to sneak around—Lex would have thrown a shitfit if he had seen them together. Not like that mattered in the slightest now. His former best friend hadn’t returned his calls since the day he got locked up.
The scents from the oven alerted his attention, and he grabbed a mitt before tugging the food out. “Hope you’re hungry—I keep my meals portioned and plated out of habit.” Not like he tried to impress—at least not too hard—but the way her eyes widened at the sight of the food gave him silent satisfaction.
“All right, chef-boy—throw your fancy lingo at me. What am I digging into?” she asked after she peered at the plate he pushed her way.
His lips quirked in a smile—he’d been working at an upscale restaurant long enough to have learned the terms. “Smoked Alaskan salmon with a side of brown butter gnocchi and Swiss chard with slivered almonds. Granted, it tastes a helluva lot better fresh.”
Liv speared a forkful of salmon, lifting the bite to her mouth and closing her eyes as she savored it. The moan that came from her was sinful, not helping the dirty-as-hell thoughts taking up space in his head. “Fuck being an engineer, Z. You’ve got talent here.”
He dug in to hide his smile and the way her comment warmed him to the bones. The salmon reheated well, and the brown butter gnocchi tasted just as good as the other day, the nutty notes melding with the hint of parmesan and black pepper. Silence spread through his kitchen, but not the awkward sort, as they dove into the food with the abandon of vultures to roadkill. He remembered how, back in the day, he’d sat in the basement of the Morozov’s house, digging into a pizza with Liv and Lex, and he missed those casual shared meals in a fierce way.
“You have any of your latest work?” he asked as he finished off the last bits of salmon, dropping the plate into his kitchen sink. “I’d love to see what you’ve been doing with photography.”
A blush stained her cheeks, and she tucked a couple strands of hair behind her ear as she passed him to deposit her plate in the same spot. She stopped where she stood, an inch away as she lifted her chin to look him in the eye. So close, he could see the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks and feel her intensity.
“I missed you like crazy, Z.” The gravity in her voice arrested him on the spot. His breath hitched, and even though he knew he should step away, even though he knew the inevitable next step, he couldn’t. The magnetic pull he felt towards her defied reason, and that subtle scent of citrus had him spellbound. He rested his hand along the curve of her waist, ready to tug her towards him.
Liv lunged in—those lips pressed to his and all restraint flew out the door.