Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x M!Reader

Eighteen

Lost in thoughts you stood in the kitchen, throwing some old backing ingredients into a bowl while the news were on.

Elliot and Matthias had made it out of bed and after a quick lunch were now bothering Kyle with their immense energy and need to move.

If you were honest, he did pretty well with the boys. Although they clung to his arms like two little monkeys, throwing their legs in the air and screaming, he took all the time in the world, spun them both around and chased them through the garden.

An hour passed before they finally released him and got busy with each other in the sandpit. Sweating, he climbed through the door into the conservatory and dropped onto his back with a gasp.

"Quite a lot of stamina...", he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Smirking, you gifted him a glance.

"They like you, uncle Kyle.", you said, and cracked two eggs.

So far, the dough consisted mainly of sugar and melted butter. It smelled sweet, like a Christmas market.

Nevertheless, Kyle didn't miss the opportunity to steal a little with one finger to taste it.

"Couldn't you at least washed your hands?", you asked, stirring everything.

He raised his eyebrows with a smile of pleasure.

"That's really good.", he wanted to take more but you pushed his hand away and tipped flour into the bowl.

"You should see the end product, it tastes much better."

"Can't wait.", he ran round the island to wash his hands.

He squeezed past behind you, put an arm on your back and pulled his hand with him. The touch felt like a flame licking over your skin.

Startled, your shoulders stiffened.

Heat made your cheeks glow. But you ignored the feeling, fought it back to the back of your mind and shook your head.

"Should be a new recipe.", you remarked casually. "The first few batches tend to be okay. Nothing mind-blowing."

The sound of running water stopped. He reached for a towel to dry his hands.

Suddenly the image of his hands flashed through your mind, long, slender fingers with clean fingernails and veins running down the back of his hands.

You frowned.

Why the hell did you remember it in such detail?

Gritting your teeth, you pinch your nose to drive the thoughts away. Something's been wrong with you since you had that conversation with Lina.

Suddenly you thought a lot more about Kyle, not just what he had been like but what he had grown into. She was right, he was pretty cute. Caring and helpful. A perfect partner, even with children. Especially with children.

But not for you. Because Kyle was straight.

Again, a wave of guilt washed over you. You were such a bloody bad friend.

Suddenly, the feeling of warm breath on your cheek snapped you out of your thoughts. Startled, you flinched, only to realise Kyle was standing behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Curiously, he looked at your fingers, which were sticky with dough. Something crawled along your side. His hand.

Confused, you tilted your head to look at him. His eyes travelled up to you. He smirked.

"First biscuit's mine.", he said, straightening up to his full height.

His hand still rested on your side. Every single finger felt like it was burning into your flesh, leaving dark marks that would last forever.

Swallowing hard, you moved slightly to the side, into his touch. And his fingers curled, pressing tighter against your body. As if he wanted to hold you.

Inhaling deeply, you pressed your hands against the kitchen island and stretched your back. You were imagining it.

Kyle's breath on the back of your neck, the feel of his fingers against your ribs. Heat chased through your body, not only up your chest where your heart began to beat wildly, but also deeper, under the waistband of your sweats.

Shame made you squint your eyes and whisper a silent prayer.

What the hell was happening here?

"Kyle.", your voice shook a little as you looked up at him over your shoulder.

A smile greeted you. You immediately forgot what you wanted to say to him.

On the one hand, this situation was incredibly confusing. Or maybe it was just his way of torturing you. On the other hand, you didn't want him to move away.

You wanted him even closer. So close that it was reprehensible.

Breathing flatly, you looked at him. The brown of his eyes sparkled. There was something, a feeling, a thought that he still wasn't sure what to do with.

Kyle struggled with something. But it was hard to tell what exactly.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he bent his head. Strands of his curly hair fell into his face. His full lips moved silently and immediately you leant towards him.

There was barely enough space between you to explain it as friendship. Shit, he was really handsome. So much so that your fingers twitched, clawing into the surface of the island.

His gaze broke away from yours and, you could have sworn, examined your lips for a moment. He swallowed hard, thinking.

No, it couldn't be. You were just imagining it.

Hastily, you turned your head away, his breath echoing in your ears. Kyle's head bent a little further, so close that the tip of his nose brushed against the crook of your neck.

You trembled. Your whole body trembled.

Then he suddenly pulled back, cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. The beat of your heart skipped a beat.

What had just happened?

The touch of his fingers was still burning your skin.

Had you imagined it all?

Kyle cleared his throat again. Torn from your stupor, you blinked.

"Pretty gay of you, dude.", that was the only thing you could say.

The words were spoken entirely out of emotion, not really what you wanted to say. He grinned with amusement.

"Must be the influence.", he returned sarcastically and leaned against the kitchen counter. "All I really wanted to tell you was that the garden is totally withered. Needs some tidying up before I can plant the roses."

Confused, you blinked.

"You... want to leave it in MY garden?", you asked, eyes narrowed.

He shrugged.

"Where else? Gives me a reason to always come back."

Your heart leaped. But he didn't need to know that.