The next day

7 a.m.? He asked himself, regretting being up so early after last night. He was glad he didn’t have a class first thing this morning.

The grin on Aiden’s face lingered for a second longer until the sound of her door shutting left him alone with the cereal and the only remaining sound being the birds outside.

He shifted on his feet, glanced toward the hall like she might come back, then scooped another bite.

The teasing had been easy. Natural, like they were actually friends, or something close to it. But underneath it, buried between every line, was the part he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Because yeah… he’d heard her that first night. Heard enough to have a pretty good idea of what she’d done with his mom. And after last night? After everything she’d heard?

She wasn’t just his mom’s friend. Wasn’t just the woman who made good food and liked to tell him what to do.

She was the hot woman he’d lusted after longer than she knew. Complicated-hot. Smart, and grounded, and really good at holding her own. She didn’t really flirt back, but she also didn’t shut it down. And somehow, that made it hotter and a lot more fun. Like the chase had potential.

It was the constant tease of it. The invisible line she never crossed, but never reinforced either. Like she liked him flirting with her. It seemed like she got something out of the attention, even if she wasn’t about to return it. Or at least not overtly. The dynamic they shared was playful, and charged, maybe even just shy of dangerous, all things considered. It all kept him guessing and wondering how far things could go.

How far she’d let them go.

The worst part was that he was starting to think she might be wondering too.

He exhaled through his nose, dragging the spoon through the bottom of the bowl. The kitchen still carried her energy even after she was gone. A trace of whatever lotion she wore still hung in the air. It smelt floral and feminine.

He took another bite. It wasn’t just last night getting to him. It was all the little moments creeping in. The robe. The yoga. The sound of her laughing from the couch. The way she’d flushed this morning, when he mentioned his mom.

And now he was wondering if she’d been touching herself, moaning from her own touch, and because of what she’d heard last night, the way he did. He shifted again; except this time, it was to adjust the tightness in his boxers.

He muttered under his breath, “Jesus, dude. Get it together.”

But the image was there, lodged deep into his imagination. And it wasn’t going anywhere.

Later that evening, the apartment was calm. Warm light spilled from the kitchen as Natalie moved around the counter, barefoot in one of her soft lounge shorts and a loose tee that had the collar torn out of it, leaving it exposing a bare shoulder as it draped slightly down her arm. Her hair was up in a lazy knot leaving a few strands to fall around her face. Music played low from the high-end Bluetooth speaker she had on a decorative shelf between the kitchen and living room. It was being fed music by her phone, a mellow playlist with a steady beat, and the window above the sink was cracked just enough to let in the cool breeze of late evening.

She chopped vegetables while her hips swayed with the music as she worked. There was something peaceful about this part of her day going into the weekend. It was just her, the knife, the cutting board, and the sizzle of oil already heating in the pan.

She didn't hear Aiden at first, over her own noises.

He lingered just past the entryway, his eyes drawn more to the wide neck like she was straight out of the 80s, more than anything else. He wasn’t even sure why he’d walked in - hunger, boredom, maybe something closer to curiosity. Seeing her and the way she was dressed was too cute to ignore though. Or maybe it was just the way she moved when she didn’t think anyone was watching. More specifically, the way certain attributes of hers moved, which only made it harder not to stare.

“Any leftovers from last night?” he asked looking for an excuse to talk to her as finally stepped forward.

Natalie looked over her shoulder, not surprised to see him there. “I tossed most of it, but I’m making myself dinner. You want in?”

He shrugged, sliding onto one of the stools at the counter. “Only if it comes with wine.”

She smirked. “That’s how I ended up oversharing last night. You sure you can handle your wine?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he started before processing her words. Aiden tilted his head, eyebrow lifted. “Wait - what exactly did you overshare?”

Natalie froze mid-stir, spoon hovering over the pan. “Nothing. Just… talking. An expression.”

He gave a low laugh. “Uh-huh. Sounds kinda sus, not gonna lie.”

“It wasn’t,” she said, too fast. She turned away, reaching for a spice jar she didn’t need. “Just wine talk. Doesn’t count.”

But her cheeks were already warm, the memory of Matt’s last message flashing behind her eyes, the photo he’d sent in response to hers, but she didn’t see until the morning. The way her hips moved with the toy, the damp mess she’d left behind.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway. Garlic bread, or no?”

“Definitely garlic bread,” he said, still watching her.

She didn’t look back, but she could feel his grin. Like he knew she was flustered, and wasn’t planning to let her off the hook.

“So, wine talk…” he echoed, eyebrows raised. “Like what?”

She shot him a look over her shoulder, but the smirk gave her away. “If you don’t let it go, I’m not above being petty.”

Aiden chuckled, fiddling with an empty bowl she had sitting on the island. “Oh, I believe that. You give very petty energy sometimes.”

“Careful,” she warned, turning back to the stove. “I also give ‘I control the router password’ energy.”

He grinned. “So you’re going back to that threat? A kitchen menace and an internet tyrant?”

“Depends which personality shows up,” she said, looking up towards the ceiling with a mock sigh. “There’s just so many.”

Her tone was breezy, but her body had relaxed. She moved with more ease now while stirring, flipping, reaching, occasionally humming under her breath. The oversized shirt slid off one shoulder again as she leaned to grab a spice jar.

Aiden watched her, not bothering to hide it with her back to him. He noticed that he liked the look of her shoulder. It wasn’t something he’d ever actually paid attention to on a girl before, but with the way hers was exposed, sticking out of the shirt, and the muscles lightly flexing under the surface as she worked, drew his attention.

There was something about this version of her, the barefoot, at home, quick-witted and comfortable in her space version, that made the whole evening feel… charged. Like the version of her she probably was naturally, before he moved in.

Just real and a little bit intimate.

“Okay,” he said, deciding not to push any further for now, “but if I’m not allowed to ask what kind of wine talk, can I at least ask what you’re making?”

She arched a brow, but he couldn’t see it. “Why? Are you going to actually cook yourself something if you decide you don’t like what I’m making?”

He held up his hands in surrender, laughing. “Just trying to survive the kitchen tyrant.”

“Then sit back and enjoy the show.”

And he did. Maybe more than he should have. He wondered if she realized the actual show she was putting on, beyond the cooking.

She was moving again. Back to the cabinets, reaching into the lower ones for something. Her shorts rode up with the motion, the loose fabric catching just enough to give a preview of the curve beneath. When she straightened and stretched for plates from the upper shelf, the hem of her cropped shirt lifted, revealing the small of her back and the faint dip of her spine at the base.

Nothing about her movements were overtly sexual, but they were a natural, unfiltered movement, and somehow, they made her natural sensuality harder to ignore.

“Been enjoying the show,” he finally said, only seconds having actually passed as she flitted around the kitchen. He said it casually like it was a passing thought, but not wanting to lose the moment.

She glanced over, “What was that?”

He gave her an easy smile. “Nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed like she didn’t buy it, but the edges of her mouth lifted anyway. Amused and a little suspicious. She let it go, however, and turned back to what she was doing, that faint smile still there as if she’d heard him just fine.

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