haven ; 𝐛. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 , 𝟏

018. a cover blown

EIGHTEEN—A COVER BLOWN
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WHEN HE GOT out of the shower, I was in the kitchen, slicing tomatoes and frying bacon on the stove, desperately trying to forget our...compromising position in the shower only fifteen minutes ago. The way the water droplets dripped down his golden skin, inviting me to run my hand along his broad shoulders, graze my nails down his chest, let my fingers curl into his hair, and—

"Isn't it a little late for lunch?"

I jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. Keeping my face turned away from him, I overcompensated my action of checking on the bacon, looking a little too closely at the strips of meat to look natural. But I had to keep him from seeing my flushed cheeks, turning pink from being caught in the middle of such sinful thoughts. 

Having him here has really made my hormones go wild, I thought bitterly, and he doesn't even know it. 

"Uh, yeah, but I never brought you any today, so I'm guessing you're pretty hungry?" The toaster went off, four crispy pieces of toast popping up. I grabbed the bread and slathered mayonnaise on each piece, topping it with lettuce, two slices of tomato, and a few strips of bacon. I took the liberty to perform these actions as slow as possible, to give my face some time to cool down and return to its normal pallor. 

He paused before replying as if he was waiting for me to turn around with the plates. "You know, I've gone longer than that without eating," he said with a straight face but took the sandwich from me anyway. This time, it didn't take the normal time for Bucky to slowly sit down at the table; he did it of his own accord. I felt a smile tug at my lips upon seeing his growing comfort in the house, however small it was. 

"You know, maybe it's not a good idea to be eating out here where your parents could walk in and see me," he added, saying the words with such ease that I felt my heart clench. 

I shrugged. "I don't want to make you feel like a prisoner when you're here." Swallowing, I sent him a gentle smile. "You're not."

He stared back at me with blank eyes, no hint of the joking Bucky from twenty minutes ago. All I could see were the deep depths of his blue eyes, my own reflection swimming in them. His eyes stared me up and down, studying me, analyzing me. I ducked my head to avoid his penetrating gaze. 

Shaking his head, he said, "When do your parents leave?"

Shrugging again, I answered, "I thought they were going to leave yesterday, but it seems like they have no intention of leaving anytime soon." I looked up at him guiltily. "But I can force them out if you want me to."

Bucky chuckled breathily, his fingers tracing the lines of the wood on the table. "You don't have to do that for me."

"What if—"

The front door opened then, causing my parents to appear in the living room. From where we were sitting, Bucky only had a few seconds to hide before our cover was blown to shards. He left his plate sitting on the table, carrying his half-eaten BLT in his hand as he raced to his room, softly closing the door behind him. Jumping up, I grabbed the plate and proceeded to wash it in the sink, ignoring the fact that I had a perfectly good dishwasher just two feet away from the sink. But I needed to keep my hands busy if I was going to make my parents believe it was just me in the house. 

"Oh, Elda, you have to go to the farmer's market, it's just wonderful!" My mother sang her words as she waltzed into the kitchen with bags of what looked like fresh fruits and veggies. Her steps silenced, however, as she saw me washing two plates. "Having lunch with a friend, my dear?" She asked, her voice giving away her suspicion. Shit.