“Yeah…” She tilts her head up to look at me, and I ignore the stirring in my gut at the sight of her. Of her plump, kissable lips, of the way her blue eyes remind me of the deep ocean—full of life, yet mysterious and uncertain.
“You’ve gotta stop trying to cook and bake. Paint, surf, go graffiti the hell out of some of those abandoned buildings.” I give her forehead a kiss to lighten the blow. “But for the love of God, woman, don’t touch our oven, please.”
“Ugh… fine. I did find some crock pot recipes I’ve been wanting to try out. Maybe I’ll ask my mom if I can borrow hers.” The guys start to chuckle, but when Lexi glares at each of them, they all stop laughing at the same time.
“Lexi, I’m home.” The door slams closed and in walks Georgia, Lexi’s sister and my other roommate. “Please don’t tell me that firetruck outside is for…” Her feet and mouth come to an abrupt halt when she sees all of us standing in the kitchen.
“Hey.” She shyly waves at the guys. “I guess it is…”
“Lexi, here, was baking me a birthday cake.” I point to the cake pan.
“I was gone for less than an hour.” Georgia sighs. “How do you even burn a cake in that amount of time?”
“Well…I…” Lexi looks at her sister sheepishly.
“You what?” Georgia grabs the pan and throws the entire thing into the garbage can, not even bothering to try to clean it out and at least save the pan. “I wasn’t even gone long enough for you to burn a cake. What did you do?”
“Well, Ricco may have called and said the waves are killer. There’s a storm brewing, you know. But I had already put the cake in, and you were gone. I just thought if I doubled the temperature, I could cut the bake time in half. It makes sense, right?” Lexi’s shoulders shrug and her head tilts to the side.
I cover my mouth from laughing, knowing it will only encourage her. But holy shit, she’s so fucking adorable. She’s just so lost in her own world. Chase’s gaze meets mine, and he raises one knowing brow.
“Anyway,” Lexi continues when nobody answers her. “I figured while I was waiting for the cake to finish, I could paint some, so I put my earbuds in and got to work. The next thing I know the fire alarm is going off and the condo is all smoky.”
“It’s okay, darlin’,” Carter says. “You know…” He approaches Lexi, who eyes him speculatively. “I’ve been known to make a mean omelet”—he nods slowly—“the morning after.” He shoots her a flirtatious wink, and the guys’ gazes go to me, and it’s in that moment I realize they all know my feelings for Lexi. I thought I’ve been doing a good job of hiding them over the years, but apparently not. Does that mean Lexi knows too? If she does, and hasn’t said a word, wouldn’t that mean she doesn’t return my feelings?
Lexi scrunches her nose up in disgust, and I bark out a laugh. “And on that note, let’s go.” I give her a kiss on her cheek. “Be careful surfing.”
“Always.” She beams.
The guys all say goodbye to the women and then we head back to the station to finish our night.
Lexi
“How’s it going?” I throw myself onto my sister’s bed and peek over at her computer screen. She’s working on designing a new website for Jumpin’ Java—our favorite coffee shop in Larchmont Village, where our mom has a painting studio and our dad owns a UFC training facility. While we both take after our mom creatively, I’m more of a paintbrush-in-hand kind of artist, and Georgia is all about the digital. Technically, Georgia is my stepsister. Her mom married my dad when we were little and they each adopted us. But to anyone who doesn’t know that, we’re sisters—and she’s my favorite person in the entire world.
“It’s going.” She smiles softly, pushing a wayward strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Finishing this up.” She points to the screen.
“Want to come watch me surf tonight?” Georgia’s made it known she doesn’t particularly care for the people I hang out at the beach with, but I hate that she almost never goes anywhere, so I invite her everywhere. She’s either at school, at our mom’s studio helping with the children’s parties, or at home working behind her computer.
“Max is coming to take some pictures,” I add, knowing if I say our younger brother is going to be there, she might actually go.
Georgia gives me another smile—the one that tells me she loves me and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, but she doesn’t want to go. When I look up at her, her bright green eyes are dimmed, and my heart hurts for my sister. Somewhere in there I believe there’s a woman who’s begging to come out and be carefree, but that woman is being pushed down by another part of my sister who shies away from the public and all social situations. She’s more comfortable sitting behind a computer than hanging out with living, breathing people—except for me. Georgia is the yin to my yang. She’s more than my friend, more than my sister. She’s the other half of my soul.