“And this is Iris,” I say for my friend who simply standing there grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
Drew offers his hand to her. “The roommate who has excellent taste in parties.”
And Iris fucking titters. God, this is too weird. Baylor is too big for the kitchen, towering over all of us.
“Oh, hey is that food?” George makes a grab for the pan, and I slap his hand. He snatches it back, holding it to his chest. “Ay, woman! Share the love, eh?”
“Get your own.” I split the big frittata down the center and spoon half onto Drew’s plate. “Eat,” I tell him.
George is far from done whining. “But I’m hungry too. Why does he get some and I don’t?”
Iris coughs in her hand, going red. “You have to ask?”
Drew laughs, though his cheeks go a bit red too. He’s not stupid, however, and promptly tucks into his food.
George on the other hand, pouts. “Seriously, Banana? No food?”
Drew’s head snaps up, a smile spreading over his face. “Banana?”
“Yup.” Iris helps herself to a yogurt. “Anna Banana.”
“Her mom calls her that,” George puts in helpfully. “Anna has a ratty old stuffed banana hiding in her closet—”
I smack his head.
“Ow, damn!”
I cut a small slice of the remaining half of the frittata, take it for myself then pass the rest to George, the ass. “Just take your ill-gotten gains and flee.”
He makes a happy sound and steals my fork.
Drew’s soaking it all in, and though his smile is large, there are shadows in his eyes. “So you guys know Anna well.”
Fishing.
Iris helps. “We’ve been together since freshman year.”
“Roommates,” George says around his mouthful of food.
Drew’s brows rise at that. “All of you?”
“Until George moved out last year for fear of ‘being overrun by estrogen.’” Iris makes a face. “His words, not mine.”
George nods to confirm, his expression lofty. “A man can only take so many feminine supplies in his bathroom before it’s time to cut and run.”
“I have my own bathroom, you tool,” I say.
“Yes. And you give me food. Now I’m wondering why I moved out.” Quick as a flash, George leans forward and lands a smacking kiss on my cheek. He’s fucking with Drew, seeing if he’ll care.
And it’s working. Drew’s expression goes completely neutral. He picks at his frittata before setting his fork down. “So… you guys…?”
He looks from George to me. Iris makes a horrified face, and George laughs. He’s a stinker, but he isn’t a jerk, and he puts Drew out of his misery. “This might be hard to believe, cuz you’re obviously into our girl, but the thought of doing anything with Anna kind of turns my stomach.”
“Ditto,” I snap back dryly, noticing that Drew looks way too pleased.
George grins at me. “She’s like the sister I never had.”
“Hey!” Iris gives his arm a punch. “I’m your sister!”
“No, you’re my twin. Totally different, 'Ris.”
“Whatever.”
As George and Iris debate whether there is a distinction between “twin” and “sister,” I lean in close to Drew. “Their constant bickering may have factored into George moving out.”
He chuckles and takes another bite. “This is good, by the way.” He glances at my plate. “You sure you have enough?”
I stop his move to offer me some of his with a touch to his hand. He’s warm, and I want entirely too much to twine my fingers with his and tug him out of here. I pull back.
“That’s sweet, but this is fine. I cooked this more for you.”
His expression is soft. “Thank you, Anna.”
The space between us grows close, quiet, as if Iris and George aren’t squabbling, as if we’re alone. His large thigh presses against my smaller one and heat blooms along the connection. When he speaks, it’s low and just for me. “So, ‘Banana’, huh?”
I give him a look. “If you call me that, you’ll lose a finger.”