Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

level of trust and longing between us that I hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Maybe not since Zach. I tried not to think about what it meant, mostly because I was pretty sure I was the only one who was feeling it. Out of bed, he still pushed me away more often than not when I tried to touch him or kiss him. He still kept his walls between us. The difference was that where he used to be mocking and carefree, now he seemed sad. And the fact that he kept himself behind those walls, where I could not reach him, made me ache for him. I yearned for more. But I had no idea what to do to change it.
    A few weeks later, the restructuring was finally put into effect. I returned from my last week-long trip to LA on a Friday night feeling absolutely giddy. It was like being a kid again and having that last day of school before summer vacation. Starting the next Monday, I would be a Junior Liaison Account Director (and it was Cole’s mocking voice that I heard in my head when I thought about it). Any trepidation I had held over accepting a demotion was gone. I was so relieved to be home for good.
    I called Cole before I even left the airport.
    “Hello, love. Are you home?”
    “Finally. Did you miss me?”
    “Not at all.”
    “I didn’t miss you either. Can I come over?”
    He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “It would be a wasted trip, love. I’m already at your house.”
    “Good,” I said smiling. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
    For once, I didn’t find him in the kitchen. He was actually sitting on the couch reading when I got home. I had a ridiculous urge to lie down on the couch and put my head in his lap, but he stood up before I could decide whether or not to follow through.
    “I didn’t have time to cook,” he told me, “but I ordered take-out.
    It should be here soon.”
    “That sounds great. How did you know I would be home tonight?”
    “I tried to call you, and it went to voice mail, so I knew you had to be on the plane.”
    “I’m impressed,” I said, and he winked at me.
    “You should be, love.”
    I reached out and took his hand, trying to pull him over to me, but he resisted. I pulled harder, but he still didn’t cooperate.
    “Come here,” I said in exasperation.
    “Why?”
    “Because I want to show you how much I didn’t miss you.”
    He smiled at that and relented. He let me pull him close and put my arms around him. He was a little bit stiff in my arms, but I didn’t mind. I put my nose into his hair, just so I could smell that ridiculous strawberry shampoo. It was a smell that had somehow become simultaneously erotic and comforting to me. I felt silly for it, but it was such a part of him and of home now that I found myself missing it whenever I was away.
    I tipped his head back so I could see his face and his beautiful full lips. He didn’t exactly relax, but he allowed me to kiss him. His lips were soft and sweet, his breath shaky, and like always, I wanted only to sink deeper into him. I pulled him tighter against me, and to my surprise, he put his arms around my neck. He sighed, and his lips parted, and then—he really, truly kissed me back. It was something that he still did only rarely, and I lost myself in the sensation of it: his body against mine; his mouth, sweet and fruity; his arms tight around me; his lips soft yet insistent. I abandoned all thought and reveled in him .
    Until the doorbell rang. It was the first time ever that I found myself wishing that delivery was slower.
    “That must be our food,” Cole said as he pulled away from me.
    And there was something strange in his voice when he said it, but I didn’t have time to figure out what it was. He was bringing in bags of Chinese food, and then we were sitting down to eat. He was unusually quiet all through dinner. He kept his head down so I couldn’t see his eyes. I kept waiting for him to say something, to laugh, to make fun of me for something, but he didn’t. He seemed… sad.
    “Is anything wrong?” I asked.
    “Not at all.”
    “Are you sure? It seems like something is bothering you.”
    He was quiet for a minute, and then he surprised me by answering my question with a seemingly unrelated question of his own. “The weekend of April second—would it be at all possible for you to take Friday off?”
    “I’ll see what I can do. Why?”
    “I was considering a few days away.”
    “Are you asking me to go with you?”
    “Is that not what I’ve just been