Simmer Read online

  A laugh rumbled from my chest after she whispered the last word. This was the second time this week I dragged her to the running track on campus. She struggled to keep up last time but refused to admit it. For a second, I thought she would collapse and I’d have to carry her back to her dorm, not that I would’ve minded—at all. When I asked if she wanted to slow it down next time, she answered with a scowl of death. It was fucking adorable.

  The running track used to be my solitude in the early morning hours and a place to clear my head. I gladly traded that peace for breaking Sara’s chops.

  “Hey, we have two more laps left!” I yelled as she jogged off the track.

  “I need a break. I should’ve known you were a fitness freak.” She craned her head and glowered at me before plopping onto a bench.

  “Should’ve known how?” I sat beside Sara and nudged her ribs with my elbow.

  Her eyes rolled before she unzipped her hoodie. “Look at you. There isn’t an ounce of fat anywhere. You’re probably here every morning. I told you I was a weekend runner. I’d get a few laps in during Victoria’s dance class on a Saturday. I don’t have your endurance, Drew.”

  My mouth slanted into a smirk. “So, you’re saying I’m hot?”

  She groaned before massaging the back of her neck. “I’m saying it’s obvious that I’m not on your level. Next time, I’ll go at my own pace and you go at yours.”

  Sara stood and unzipped her sweatshirt, chasing the teasing smile right off my face. Her body was curvy yet lean, the tight pink tank accentuating every inch of her perfect silhouette. Full breasts and a tiny waist poured into delicious tight thighs and . . . don’t get me started on her ass. She had no clue how sexy she really was, which only made her even more irresistible. I wished she could see what I saw. What everyone saw. Eyes followed Sara everywhere and she was too deep into her own head to notice.

  “Drew?” She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Are you okay? You just spaced out for a minute.”

  I spaced out checking you out. I controlled myself around Sara for the most part, but I’d lapse from time to time. If she noticed, she didn’t call me on it. She trusted me as a friend, and I wouldn’t fuck up the only piece of her she allowed me to have.

  “I’m here, you were saying?” I straightened and brought my eyes to hers, no matter how tempted they were to drop lower.

  “I don’t have to come next time. I’m holding you back.” She stood from the bench and I grabbed her wrist to pull her back.

  “You are not. It’s fun having you here, huffing and puffing behind me.”

  She slapped my arm. “Not the best coach, are you?”

  “Hey, Kostas!” A voice called out behind us. “Still coming here at the butt crack of dawn?” Chase ambled over to us. He was a grad student, too, but I only knew him through a friend of mine. “And you’ve got a pretty running partner now.”

  I didn’t like or dislike him, but his presence now made me bristle with irritation. I suspected it had something to do with how he brazenly eye fucked Sara as she leaned back on the bench.

  “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Chase. Nice to meet you.” He extended a hand to Sara with a huge, shit-eating grin. I gripped the edge of the metal bench to fight the urge to ball my hands into fists and pummel them right in his face.

  “Sara.” She gripped his hand, and he didn’t let go as easily as he should have, or at least as easily as I thought he should have. He settled next to her, again too close for my comfort, and blood boiled in my veins. He was always on the creepy side, but I never wanted to kick the shit out of him for it before.

  “Are you one of Drew’s friends?” She squinted as she looked between us.

  “We were in a few classes last year.” I shrugged before standing. “And we were just on our way to breakfast, so if you’ll excuse us.” I grabbed her hand and yanked her off the bench harder than I’d meant to. Something inside me snapped and needed to get her away from this asshole as soon as possible.

  Maybe I didn’t accept being just friends with Sara as much as I let on. Maybe I hated that I had no claim or right to tell Chase or guys like him who approached her to back off. Maybe I wanted her to be mine—now. Not maybe at some unsure point in the unforeseeable future.

  “Are you all right?” Sara stilled and yanked back.

  “Fine,” I clipped, still irritated as fuck, and doing a shit job of hiding it. Her brows pinched in confusion, and I didn’t blame her. Sometimes, I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, too.

  We were supposed to be only friends, but I hadn’t so much as glanced in another woman’s direction since Sara stumbled into the lab that night. I’d go to the bar with the guys and the girls either wouldn’t be pretty enough or smart enough or something else enough. The problem, or my problem was, they weren’t Sara enough.

  Silence fell over us as we made our way to the diner on campus. It was only when I reached for the door that I realized I still held her hand in mine. I’d never dropped it, and she never pulled away. Now I was even more pissed at myself for wanting to make that simple gesture mean something between us.

  The waitress brought our menus over right after we were seated. The usual playfulness between us wasn’t there. The air that surrounded us was thick and uncomfortable. Shaking off what happened with Chase was harder than it should’ve been. He only shook her hand . . . and leered at her. I raked my hand through my hair as the thought pissed me off all over again. What would I do if a guy tried more than that? I’d end up in jail if I didn’t reel myself in.

  “Why do you waste your time, Drew?” Sara’s voice was small.

  I lifted my head to meet her pained stare. Her chocolate brown eyes bore into mine, half questioning, half exposed. I’d never seen her this vulnerable before.

  “Waste my time?”

  “You could spend time with anyone. Be with anyone . . . without issues and a ton of baggage. Someone your age. Someone who could keep up with you.” She put her head down and laughed.

  “But that someone wouldn’t be you.” Her eyes brightened right before they squeezed shut. I still wouldn’t push, but I was done lying to myself or her.

  “Drew, you’re a good guy. I’m holding you back, I can tell. I love hanging out with you, but I can’t ask you—”’

  “You never asked me to do anything. I love hanging out with you, too. I don’t know who convinced you that you were some kind of unwanted burden, but you’re not. Never. So, you’re not blowing me off, Caldwell. Nice try.” I let my lips curve up, hoping to draw out a smile.

  “You wanted to punch Chase, didn’t you?” The corners of her mouth twitched.

  “Maybe.” I shrugged, pretending to peruse the menu I’d seen a hundred times.

  She let out a heavy sigh as she opened the menu. “You’re a foolish man, Kostas.”

  Maybe I was a fool, but she was worth it. Sooner or later, I’d get her to believe that.

  Drew

  “HEY MAN, YOU alive?”

  I winced at the light tap on my door. Even the almost muffled sound made my head throb.

  “For now,” I croaked out a reply before the hacking started. I never got sick, and even on those rare occasions I did, I sucked it up and kept going. A fever of 102 combined with aches and chills knocked me right on my ass. I missed a day of classes and two days in the kitchen lab. It sucked but I felt too much like shit to care. “What’s up, Carlos?” My heavy legs lumbered over the side of my bed, the room spinning from my first attempt in the past day to sit upright.

  “You have a visitor.”

  I squinted at my roommate’s quirked brow, half hoping my mother didn’t listen to me earlier and drove over to the apartment with a quart of chicken soup anyway.

  “A visitor?” I shivered as I reached for my hoodie next to the bed.

  Carlos nodded. “Yep, waiting for you in the kitchen with a big pot of soup.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned and shook my head. “I told her not to drive here after sh
e got out of work.” I trudged out of my room toward the kitchen. I appreciated Mom coming here to take care of me, but it was late, and I didn’t like the idea of her driving home by herself. Soup, however, sounded fucking wonderful. I didn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. Maybe yesterday afternoon before I took three ibuprofens and passed out.

  “Mom, I told you not to—” I scolded before I trailed off. Even being sick with swollen, red eyes, Sara was a vision. I blinked a couple of times to make sure the fever wasn’t causing hallucinations.

  “Wow.” She grimaced as she ambled over to me. “You look like shit, Kostas.”

  “Thanks for the compliment,” I laughed, triggering another coughing fit.

  “Easy,” she whispered as she tapped and rubbed my back. Even two beats away from death, her soothing touch caused my heart to seize.

  “Sit. I snuck in the lab early tonight and made as much as I could.” She led me to the table. “It’s run-of-the-mill chicken noodle soup, but you have enough for today and tomorrow.” She draped her hand over my forehead when I plopped into the chair. “Clammy but not too warm. Hopefully, you’re past the worst of it.”

  I smiled at the concerned furrow of her brow. She breezed around the kitchen in caretaker mode, which I guessed as a parent came as second nature to her. I glanced at the huge pot of soup on the stove, loving the hell out of the fact she came all the way here to take care of me. Even though I was weak, I rose from the chair to where she stood. I kept a safe distance in case I was still contagious, but I was so drawn to her, the kitchen table was too far away.

  “I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Homemade soup sounds amazing.”

  Her head jerked in my direction as she gaped at me. “Yesterday? That’s not good. I always made Victoria eat a little when she was sick as long as she wasn’t throwing up. I’d heard you’re supposed to starve a fever, but I think all of that is bullshit.” She stirred the soup and adjusted the knob on the stove.

  “Old wives’ tale, maybe. Is that what your mother used to tell you?” I elbowed her side with a snicker, but she didn’t smile back. Her body stiffened as she shook her head.

  “No. I just heard it a few times. And most old wives’ tales are bullshit.” I’d never heard her mention family other than Victoria, and the way she flinched at the mention of her mother confirmed they probably weren’t in the picture. The only constant in her life was her daughter, and I hated that for her. I wanted to be her constant. It was a burning urge I wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer.

  “You made all that for me?” I rubbed the two-day old scruff on my chin. “You must like me or something.”

  She rolled her eyes as she fought a smile. “I may have missed having you around. I figured this maybe would get you better faster. And I’ve made this so many times I could do it with my eyes closed. Now I’m assuming by the coat of dust I had to wipe off the stove, you boys don’t cook very much, but do you at least have bowls and spoons for cereal?” She clicked her tongue, and sick and all, I wanted to kiss the hell out of her.

  “We do.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “How do you know when it’s ready?”

  “When it comes up to a simmer, you can eat.”

  “Simmer? Look at you with the chef words.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Simmer isn’t a chef word. Everyone knows what it means.”

  “I don’t.” I shrugged. “Teach me, Caldwell. What does simmer mean?”

  Her eyes darted from where I stood to the pot. Even though I was sick as a dog, we still had that current running between us. We’d made a couple of wimpy acknowledgments, but for the most part skated around it.

  She licked her lips and set the spoon down next to the pot. “Simmer is heating through but making sure it doesn’t come to a boil.”

  “What happens if it gets too hot? Like you try to keep the heat down, but it boils over anyway? Is it all ruined?” My froggy voice dipped to a husky tone.

  “Depends,” she whispered as her gaze slid to mine. I wasn’t talking about the soup and neither was she—whether or not she could admit it.

  “Hey, is there enough to share?” Carlos came back into the kitchen and pulled two bowls out of the cabinet. “My throat’s a little scratchy.” He winked at Sara and gave her a tiny smile until he met my pissed off glare. He gave me a tiny nod and held up his hand before digging in the drawer for spoons.

  “Enough for everyone. You can keep the pot for now. I swiped it from the lab, but I didn’t think you’d tell on me.” She smiled as Carlos handed her a ladle with a lot less charm than when he first stepped into the kitchen, having received my message to back the fuck off loud and clear. Not that he would try anything; he’d heard me talk about Sara enough to deduce how I felt about her and wouldn’t make a real play. I cupped my forehead and massaged my temples. My feelings for Sara made me want to beat anyone up who noticed her, even one of my best friends. My head was still stuffy and clouded, but I knew without a doubt how fucked I was.

  Sara made me eat two bowls of the best chicken soup I’d ever had before piling me back into bed.

  “That was the best soup I ever had in my life.” I yawned before downing some cold medicine. I desperately needed a good five decongested hours of sleep.

  Sara nodded to the pillow for me to lie down before she put the sheet back over me.

  “I’ll check on you in the morning. Get some sleep.” She brushed the hair off my forehead before she realized it and jerked away. “Carlos said he’d let me out.” And probably stare at your perfect ass as you leave. The medicine kicked in and made my eyelids heavy. I’d kick the shit out of him for it tomorrow when I woke up.

  “You’re gorgeous; you know that, right?”

  She turned to me with a half-smile. “Sleep it off, Kostas.”

  I grabbed her hand. “Goodnight, Sara. Thank you.”

  She smiled, and it made it to her eyes. My chest pinched at how breathtaking that smile still was, and how she only gave it to me. It was a gift, like everything else about her. Unlike this sickness, my crush on Sara was an affliction I wouldn’t be able to shake quite so easily—if ever.

  “Anytime, Drew.” She squeezed my hand back before sauntering out of the room. My hazy vision followed her path out my bedroom door. A wonderful woman with such a huge heart shouldn’t have been alone for so long. Sara should be surrounded by people who care about her.

  People like me. Sara should be with me.

  I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of an angel who was only supposed to be my friend.

  Sara

  “WHAT WAS THE weirdest thing you made as a bartender?” Lisa’s eyes lit up before she threw back another shot.

  I shook my head at her widened and glassy eyes. “I was a bartender for two days. I filled beer mugs and shot glasses. No fun concoctions, sorry!” I took a long pull of my own beer bottle and eyed my roommate. We both had a long and grueling week of kitchen lab testing, and I was willing to splurge and get some drinks to celebrate. Lisa was already on drink three and shot number four. I didn’t mind helping her out of here, but carrying her, as she had a good six inches of height on me, would be a bitch. The bar was close to the dorm but not that close.

  “That’s so cool!” She shrieked as she stumbled onto the stool beside me. That helping/carrying window was approaching faster than I’d anticipated. “You know so many different techniques and recipes. I wish I had that kind of experience.” She sighed before downing the rest of her beer. “I wish I worked in New York City like you.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and turned away from Lisa. Her comments came from an innocent place. Classmates would sometimes guffaw in class if I knew an odd ingredient or dish from the countless restaurants I’d waitressed at. And there were many: Italian, Turkish, Mexican, Indian. I didn’t discriminate and thankfully neither did they when I applied for a job. I was always too busy bussing tables to really observe what went on in the kitchens, but I’d catch things from time to time
and even experiment at home with a dish when I had an extra couple of bucks. My quest to keep us fed and sheltered made me a Renaissance woman to my friends. It was funny and sad at the same time.

  I motioned to the bartender for two glasses of water and spotted Drew strolling in with a few of his friends. He stopped short when he caught my gaze, his brows shooting up in mock surprise.

  “What’s going on with you and Drew?” Lisa slurred before I shoved the glass of water in her face.

  “We’re friends. Nothing beyond that.”

  She snickered around the rim of the glass. “Riiight. You guys are adorable.”

  “Keep drinking, Lisa.” I nudged the glass of water back into her hand.

  “What are we talking about?” Emma squeezed herself between us and motioned for a drink.

  “How cute Drew and Sara are.” She batted her eyelashes and folded her hands under her chin.

  “I know . . . the little glances of longing when they don’t think the other is looking.” She let out a squee and I groaned into my hands.

  “There are no glances of longing. Don’t encourage her, Emma.”

  “Um . . .” She leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “I see one right now. He looks your way every chance he gets.” She grabbed her bottle of beer and turned to Lisa. “How hot would they be together? With Sara peaking and all.”

  “Peaking?” My brow crinkled as my fingers massaged the sudden ache in my temples from these two. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Well, you’re in your thirties, right?” She offered a sheepish smile. “I read an article about how that’s when you like, hit your sexual peak. And Drew with all those fuckable inches of lean muscle and the dark bedroom eyes? Holy shit, you guys would combust from all the heat.”

  “For sure,” Lisa agreed, her eyes less cloudy but still fixed on me. “Don’t you want to peak with Drew, then come back and tell us all about it in Every. Single. Detail?”