I made myself a cup of coffee, took some gulps, then reached for the sharp cheddar to add to the scrambled eggs, hoping Skylar liked it.
“I won’t lie,” Skylar said, shuffling sleepily to the coffeepot, “it was the smell that woke me. Please tell me those are for us and not for like, a potluck brunch at your mom’s house.”
“Well, that would just be cruel.” I chuckled. “Thought you could use a good breakfast—well, technically, brunch—after burning all those calories.”
He actually blushed, and turned away to reach for a mug. It was cute seeing him less confident than he normally was.
He planted himself on a kitchen stool with his coffee, and watched me plate our food. With his hair disheveled and his face scrubbed free of makeup, he looked like a younger version of himself, and just as appealing.
Friends. Do the friends thing, I reminded myself. Think about the jizz-hands.
That did the trick, though I almost gagged.
I topped off our coffees and joined him at the counter. “So what are your plans today?” I asked as casually as I could muster while he dug into his eggs.
“Not sure. Some errands maybe and then work later.” He swallowed a forkful. “Why do you ask?”
“I, uh…” I stuttered as I lifted a piece of bacon. “Do you feel like hanging out?”
When his eyes lit up, my stomach did that dippy thing again.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well, I have a property for sale in Lake Oswego, and it has this private waterfront view…”
“Fancy.”
He wasn’t wrong. It was one of the richest neighborhoods in Portland.
“I have to drop by there for a minute, and thought maybe you’d want to tag along? We could go for a walk along the water.” I winced, second-guessing myself. “Probably sounds boring.”
“No, it sounds perfect,” he replied around a yawn. “I’m not always ready for a party. I like my quiet moments too.”
“Yeah?” I asked, and he nodded. “Okay, cool.”
Once he declared himself stuffed, he went off to change while I cleared our dishes. We did a couple of loads of laundry before heading out the door. So domestic, and I liked it. Liked having someone around to help with the mundane things.
The early afternoon breeze felt perfect as we drove with cracked windows, the sky was a perfect blue, and the sun was blazing. We made small talk about what I did for a living, and I told him about some of the properties I sold, which were a mix of commercial and residential.
Once we got to that part of town, Skylar seemed in awe as we drove through the streets to the gated community. He didn’t comment any further, just took it all in, and I could see how from his vantage point, these houses might look like mansions. For me, having sold a whole range of properties, these were modest in comparison, but still pricey because of the waterfront view.
When we arrived at the house, I installed a lockbox on the door so other realtors could bring their clients to the property, then asked Skylar if he wanted a tour of the place.
“Hell yes,” he said as I pushed open the door.
We moved from room to room, which had been staged to help it sell more quickly. It wasn’t exactly my taste, but a lot of thought went into which design was used, and it definitely fit the style of the architecture and current trends in other houses on the market in this area.
“Would you ever want to live in a place like this?” Skylar asked, scrunching his nose at an abstract statue on the table behind the sofa, that neither of us could make heads or tails of.
“Nah, not my kind of thing,” I replied, and his head snapped up in surprise. “I like my creature comforts, but I don’t really care about all this space.”
“Right? Plus, more to clean. I’d be hopeless.”
I snickered. “I’m sure whoever buys this can afford a cleaning service.”
“I could use one of those.” He smirked, and I shook my head, not disagreeing.
Once we looked at the bedrooms and luxurious bathrooms, where he of course had to test out one of the large, jetted tubs, we went downstairs to the high-tech kitchen.
“Look at that view,” he said, staring out at the lake. He wore a wistful, faraway expression, and it made me want to know what he dreamed about.
“Told you.” I nudged his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
After making sure the house was locked up tight, we walked along a path on the side of the property and down some steps to the waterfront. There was a grassy expanse, and then closer to the water, the beach looked more rocks than sand. So Portland.
“This is amazing,” Sky remarked as we strolled along the waterfront.
“I thought you might like it.” I was rewarded with a dazzling smile.
We walked along the rocks, then headed back toward the grassy area, and Skylar toed off his sneakers. I did the same, which didn’t make a lot of sense because I’d never do something like that on my own, but his enthusiasm was always contagious, even twelve years later. The grass felt lush between my toes, and I supposed that was the point. Taking time to smell the roses and all that.
Skylar threw me a wink over his shoulder, then started running across the lawn before ending in a perfect handspring.
I laughed as he lifted his arms in triumph, and I marveled that he’d pulled that stunt in tight jeans. Not that I’d really noticed how cute his buns were in them.
“I dare you,” he said, raising a challenging eyebrow.
“To do what?”
“Anything from our good old gymnastic days.”
“What do I get if I do it?” I asked, and my stomach felt all strange, either from the idea of performing a stunt I hadn’t tried in years, or because my voice sounded flirty even to my ears.
He motioned with his hand. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
I waffled, staring at the grass and considering how much room I had. God, why the hell was I acting like this was so hard? I searched my brain for stuff we used to do in class, and landed on something pretty basic. I lifted my arms and then just went for it.
Christ, I hadn’t done a stupid cartwheel in so long that as soon as I planted my feet on the grass, they slid out from under me and I crumpled to the ground. But somehow, I wasn’t even embarrassed. Okay, maybe a little. “Holy shit, I think I killed myself,” I wheezed.
But I was laughing and so was Sky as he appeared above me, then dropped to his knees, pretending to give me CPR with his hands on my chest. “I think you’ll live.”
I pointed an accusing finger. “If I threw my back out, it’s all your fault.”
“What are you, ninety?” He grinned. “If you take that Zumba class, how can you be so out of shape?”
I sat up and dusted the grass blades off my knees. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No way.” He sank down on his butt. “Your cartwheel was actually pretty good form.”
“Well, maybe with more practice,” I mused as we stared out at the water together. “By the way, where did you get those dance moves? I knew you were talented, but last night was something else.”
“Yeah?” He pressed his shoulder against mine, a goofy smile on his face. “I bet you’re a good dancer too, Mr. Zumba. You just won’t admit it.”