Forbidden Sparks

[chapter nineteen]

| Forbidden Sparks |
[chapter nineteen]
(Acacia's p.o.v.)
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           "Come in with me."

The words danced off my tongue with a familiar, delightful taste. I didn't need him to reply, to know his answer. Before I knew it, the keys were already out of the ignition and he went around the car to open my door.

I sat there for a moment, thinking of how ironic it was that every time he drove me home alone, I invite him inside. How did this always happen? Why couldn't I let him go? I've wanted to for so long. But why should I?

After seeing Adrian and remembering the downfall of our mess of a relationship, I'd realized how amazing of a guy Brody really was. He's always been there under my skin, or in the back of my mind, unshakable.

"You coming, Sparks?" He held out his hand, to help me out of the car. I brazenly took it.

After all that bullshit I put him through, he still was so kind and genuine towards me. Between bailing me out of any trouble I got into growing up, or any of that Miles stuff, and especially all the times I told him I couldn't do this, he was still here.

He led me into the building, hand in hand.
After walking down the dimly lit hall for what felt like hours, we finally made it to my door. As I opened it, a small wave of anxiety washed over me. I knew Aspen wasn't home, but what if by chance she came home early?

Turned off lights and no Drake blasting through the speakers was a sign that she wasn't. I flipped the light switch, illuminating our nice modernly decorated yet messy living room and kitchen.

"Sorry for the mess. You know that Aspen's definition of cleaning is shoving everything in one big pile."

Brody let out a chuckle and said, "Speaking of Aspen, let me try to call her again."

As he tried calling, I flung my leather jacket onto the couch. Okay, so maybe I made just as much of this mess. But I was too tipsy to care.

"No answer," he said, putting his jacket down too; exposing his insanely defined biceps.

"Um," I swallowed, still staring his newly shown skin. "Do you want coffee or a drink or anything?" I said making my way to the kitchen but stumbling a bit in the process. "Shit," I mumbled.

"Here, why don't I make you some tea? You just sit right here," he surprised me by grabbed my hips and lifting me onto the counter top.

"I could have gotten up here myself, you know."

He only replied by giving me one of those signature smirks, and he continued rummaging through the kitchen to make some tea. Like how fucking cute is that? Couldn't he just be ugly and an asshole who doesn't want to make me tea?

           My legs dangled off the counter playfully, as I watched him make my tea as if he were preparing a five-course meal.

           "Here," he proudly handed me the mug. "I make the best tea."

            "Relax. It's just putting a tea bag in hot water." I smirked and took a sip.

             "Well, I put the tea bag in the water pretty damn well."

             "That you do," I chucked and set my tea aside. He stood right beside me leaning on the counter, looking like something right out of a movie. His blue eyes were still sparkling, even in this shitty kitchen lighting. "Why are you still being so nice to me?"