That was enough for her. Mila dove across the kitchen, colliding entirely into Baylee. Her hands clutched at his back, as if truly holding him tight would make her feel any better. Again, she'd instigated–fucking hell–but Mila needed it so bad. The comfort, the warmth, the security…everything. It had nothing to do with her attraction for Baylee, but everything with her need to feel something other than lonliness. And with the way Baylee's arms crashed down around her after a moment…maybe he needed it too. "I'm sorry…" Mila mumbled into his chest. "I needed a friend hug. It couldn't wait…call it an emergency."
"Yeah…" Baylee agreed, hugging her a big closer. If it was even possible. "It been a rough couple of days." For once, the urge to pull away from Mila wasn't there. It was…comfortable. Being able to have physical contact with someone without it involving him punching someone in the face.
He was sad, admittedly, when she pulled away. Now that the air had been cleared up between them, he found his attraction towards the woman in his home had grown even stronger. And it was sucky timing, as well. Just as he began thinking, Hm, maybe kissing isn't such a bad thing, they set up rules that outlawed it.
Did he know he was staring blatantly at her lips? Mila gave him a wary look as she pulled away a bit more, stepping completely out of his reach. She was going to respect the boundaries that they made. Even if he kept looking at her like that. Christ. Mila smiled, lips curling slow enough for him to know that she had caught him looking. But Baylee didn't seem to care and she was surprised when his own lips copied the motion.
Crap. Boundaries–what now? "Anything else we should keep away from?" Mila asked, folding her arms over her fluttering heart. Her stomach decided to give a mighty growl at that point, which caused the both of them to laugh awkwardly at the sudden noise. "Hopefully, food is not a boundary?"
"Not at all," he said, finally averting his gaze to the fridge. "Eat anytime you're hungry. I figure you got some things that you want t' have in there, so just leave a grocery list out sometime and I'll go on an errand run. I'll get you an air mattress, as well, since that couch out there is a piece of shit."
When did he become this bold? Openly staring at her lips? Smiling when she noticed it? It's like the roles have been reversed. Now it was him who couldn't keep himself back while she kept her distance. So. Fucking. Confusing.
"Maybe a piece of shit for your tall ass, but for a bite size human like me it's actually comfy. My air mattress was on it's last life, too. Poor thing. It's travelled with me since the beginning when I left Se– When I started my road trip. I could use another blanket though? It get's pretty cold out here at night…" Mila's voice trailed off as she looked through drawers, making a noise of victory when she came up with a notepad and pen.
She ducked around Baylee, opening the fridge. The pen flashed in the morning light as she immediately began writing things down. "I can do groceries to. Sometimes I can be kinda picky about food. Surprisingly, I'm allergic to a lot of things." Although Mila wasn't sure if he was looking at her, she shrugged.
"I know for certain you aren't allergic to eggs," he said, reaching into the fridge around her and picking out the egg and the milk cartoon. After setting the ingredients on the counter, he began searching for the pan. Finding it in the sink, dirty as shit was not the outcome he was hoping for, evident by his frown as he scrubbed the pan down with the abrasive side of the sponge. After a few moments of hard scrubbing under hot water, it was clean, so he slid it onto the stove and started the gas burner. "So, scrambled or an omelet?"
"I'm the omelet queen, but if you want to show off your skills–have at it!" Mila tossed over her shoulder as she kept writing things on her growing list. Picky indeed. But when Baylee peeked over to see what she was writing, he saw that she was meal planning and what she had written down made his own stomch grumble in need.
"I think I can take care of this today. Do you have work tonight?" Mila asked, tossing the pad and pen onto the island and making herself comfortable in one of the chairs. She watched Baylee cook with interest, nursing the mug of coffee she had poured earlier.
"Yeah, sadly," he said, cutting out a piece of butter and slapping that bitch onto the pan. After a few moments of sliding it around the pan rapidly, he beat the eggs and the milk into a liquidy mixture and poured it into the pan. "Fuckin' omelets. How did anyone even discover how to make one of these fucking things? Same thing with milk. How do you just randomly decide to suck a cow's titty?" He was rambling, a habit of his' when he started cooking. His mom did the same thing but he never knew that's where he got it from.
Coffee spewed from Mila's mouth and she was pretty sure it came from her nose too, which was entirely embaressing. "Baylee–" Cough, laugh, cough, wheeze, laugh. "–what????–" Another round of coughing, laughing, and wheezing. Jesus Christ was she dying? What a way to go out.
Death by cow titty comment.
Mila struggled to breathe properly, hand pressed against her chest, but god if she wasn't still laughing. Baylee turned, amusement sparking in his eyes until he noticed how red Mila's face was and moved to bring her a towel. "I—okay." She said, smiling like an idiot. "What the fuck, Baylee?" Finally, a full sentence.
"Jesus, I was jus' talkin, man," he said, returning to cooking her omelet. "I didn't expect you to fuckin' die."
He pulled a spatula out of a drawer and slowly slid it under the egg mixture. With a small "hmmph!", he flipped the omelet. Well, at least tried to. The omelet decided it had its own plans, however, and simply folded over itself.
"Son of a…." Baylee grumbled, scratching the side of his face as he let the frustration sink in. "Well, I guess you're getting scrambled eggs, now. Sorry, it's been a hot second since I tried to make an omelet."
"I don't mind. Omelets on me next time?" Mila asked on a chuckle and a cough, which made Baylee look over his shoulder at her again, eye brows raised. She made a 'I'm fine' motion and he turned back around.
It was oddly domestic to sit here in the kitchen with Baylee. As if last night and this morning had never happened. Like they'd been doing it forever and it was a comfortable routine to get up and enjoy a silly conversation over breakfast. She was pretty sure friends did that. Good friends at least. God did she even know anymore?
Friends certainly didn't stare at each other asses though, or broad shoulders… Crap. Mila blushed furiously, just as Baylee turned around again, plate of eggs in hand.
"Yes, since I fuckin' suck at omelets all of a sudden," he said, walking over and setting the plate in front of her. His expression was…strange, at least for him. It was devoid of any scowl, any frown, and any wrinkle. A neutral expression, either happy nor sad. Just….content. He hadn't felt this good in years and his eyes showed it. His leaf green irises were typically dead and lifeless, but now they danced in the early morning sunlight like his brain was holding a disco rave.
Humming, Mila dove into the plate with surprising vigor. With all the nonsense between them, she really couldn't remember the last time either of them had a decent meal. Too long apparently, since she was inhaling her breakfast.
She watched Baylee move about the kitchen to make his own meal. He kept up a steady influx of chatter to which Mila only had to respond briefly to before he launched into another healthy stream. Honestly, the sound warmed her heart, despite it being more nonsense like his cow titty comment. Mila didn't mind in the slightest.
When Baylee finally sat down to eat, Mila took up the conversation in the same manner. Talking about anything and everything that came to her mind as she sipped her coffee. His warm green eyes never left her, causing the lightest of pink blushes to etch itself firmly to her cheekbones. "It's a bummer that you have to work tonight. Maybe I can tag along and just hang out?"
Baylee was in the middle of a bite, so it took him a few moments to chew up the rest of the egg in his mouth and swallow it. "Are you sure? The people that come in on Sundays are…really bad. Whole bunch of rednecks that come in after church looking to get wasted. They hassle every single girl that walks in there." Baylee was truly concerned for her safety….but also his own job security. Of one of them even looked in her direction, he'd probably jump over the counter and take on every single one of them.
"You did see me deck Jacob, right?" Mila asked, raising a brow. When Baylee nodded slowly, she continued, firmly ignoring the fact that his gaze had landed on the bruise still stark on her left cheek. "Then you know I can defend myself pretty well." She shrugged this time, still ignoring Baylee's shifting features. It was odd to be able to read him so well now that he was allowing himself to relax around her. At least a little.
His brows came down hard over his green eyes and he opened his mouth to say something, probably asking her to stay safe here at home, but– "I love it here. This home is so cozy and warm, but– I get restless…" Mila said softly into her coffee cup. It was her gentle way of asking him not to be overbearing. She knew he wanted–and would–protect her, but he couldn't ask her to change her extrovert ways. Mila still wanted to have fun.
Baylee took another couple of bites to think about it. Although he knew his decision was already made for him by Mila. Berry better keep an eye on her.
"Alright, yeah, sure. Jus'….try to keep outta trouble. I don' feel like losing my job if I have to stab a fatass redneck for touching your butt," he said, frowning down at the plate in front of him. This really wasn't a good idea at all, but he just couldn't say no to her.
Mila didn't like that frown. Not at all. She had to think of something that would make hime smile and quick. Leaning a bit to her side, she gently knocked her shoulder into his bicep. "Jealous that you wouldn't get to touch it first?"
Baylee's face whipped up to meet her gaze, nostrils flaring just as his eyes flashed with something wild. But Mila hadn't moved an inch away and was grinning like the devil at him. Honestly, he was so damn easy to tease. It was almost mean of her, but as her heart gallopped in her chest, Mila realized that she loved it. Plopping her chin into her hand, stil grinning like Satan himself, she arched a brow waiting for him to respond.
"No, I just- standards and-," his face was pulled into a heavy scowl, the good mood he was in just moments ago completely ruined by her simple joke. It made him feel…weak. Like he had no control over his emotions. Well….he didn't now. Before, he was able to manage everything and roll it up into a general ball of dislike, but around her, everything was slipping through his fingers. It was like trying to catch a stream. "…..maybe a little?"
Mila blinked slowly, shock freezing her smile in place. She hadn't expected Baylee to admit it. Not for a second did she think that she would be the one struck dumb. Baylee was still scowling, and an inpressive one at that, but she knew it had nothing to do with her. Maybe her completely unfair teasing, but not her.
She cleared her throat, feeling that she was dangerously toeing the line of the boundary they'd just created. God she wanted to kiss him again. Mila pulled away sharply, taking her empty coffee cup to the sink. Baylee's gaze was like fire between her shoulder blades, as if he was forcing himself to not look any farther down. "I'll make sure to keep my little butt to myself then." Mila said airily.
"Thank you," he grumbled, setting his fork aside and standing up from his chair. "I'm gonna see if I can take a nap. I'll need a lot of energy tonight, so sleep typically helps that."
Two Hours Later.
He lied about the whole sleep thing. In reality, he just needed some time away from her. From that fucking perfect face, that evil smile, and those tempting eyes that dared him to make more contact than eye. But, he did get a couple of hours of sleep, so that was just an added bonus. He walked out his door and ran a hand over his hair, glancing around the hallway before walking into the living room.
Mila was tucked into the corner of the couch–which was also her bed–covered in what looked like every single blanket that Baylee owned and then some. She was fast asleep, one hand still holding open the book she had been reading, and a cup of tea still about half full on the table next to her.
Baylee approached quietly, half in his mind to not wake her up. She just looked so damn cozy, even though her hair was all over her face. He resisted the urge to tuck it behind her ear, instead reaching forward to gently shake her shoulder.
Mila groaned quietly as she came to, blinking at the afternoon light. "Baylee?" Came her soft croak, still half dazed. Her gaze focused on him as she rubbed away the last dregs of sleep. "Oh hey–I guess I fell asleep too…"
"You should eat now, if you plan on going," he said, pulling his phone out from his pocket and looking at the time. 3:45. He slept longer than he thought. "I go pretty early to get things cleaned up."
He walked into the kitchen and got himself an apple, chomping on it loudly as he tried to repress the urge to get a drink. Using alcohol like coffee became a habit of his, but now it felt embarrassing with another person in the home. Especially someone like Mila. So, he ate that apple down to its core in barely 5 minutes, picking the skin from between his teeth.
"Where the hell did you find the tea?" Baylee asked her, poking his head into the living room. "'Cause I know damn well I don't got any here."
"Oh it's mine–I brought it along with the coffee." Mila threw over her shoulder as she folded up the multitude of blankets. Some were three times the size of her and it was a little comical to watch her struggle with all the extra cloth.
Within a few mintues, she stepped into the kitchen with an armful of glossy boxes filled with loose leaf teas. "The dark orange duffle is full of non-perishable snacks and stuff–if you ever want something random. Sustience is important when you're in the middle of Oklahoma with zero rest stops for hours and hours." Mila explained with a shrug, although the discomfort in her eyes showed that it was not an experience she wanted to repeat.
There were about fifteen boxes, each a shiny color and most in languages neither of them could speak, but Mila set them all up nice and pretty next to the Brazilian coffee. Oddly, everything looked right at home in Baylee's kitchen, as if it had always been there. The colors were bright and lively in the baren whiteness of the space.
"Help yourself. There are some really good ones. Personally, I love fruity teas…" Mila voice rambled on as she got herself a snack, an apple just like Baylee. She wasn't sure if he was even paying attention, but it felt wildly comfortable to talk to him. Mila could see him from the corner of her eye, standing still and calm; could feel the heat of his gaze as she moved and spoke… Maybe Baylee was paying too much attention to her.
Mila loved it.
"Fuckin' tea," Baylee mumbled, turning around and reaching into a cabinet for a cup. "Not a fan of it unless it has "sweet" in front of it."
He set the cup on the counter and pulled out the gallon of milk. Maybe it would fill that hole in his stomach that the alcohol. After gulping down the full glass in barely a blink of an eye, he learned that it did not, in fact, fill it up. Letting out a loud sign, he put the gallon back into the fridge and dropped the glass into the sink.
"We'll be leavin' in an hour, so do whatever you gotta do before then," he said, turning back to Mila and frowning slightly. Why couldn't he take his eyes off of her? It's like he couldn't control his own body.
"I can make it sweet tea." Mila muttered with all the sass her tiny frame could muster. Which, surprisingly, was a lot. She even stuck her tongue out at him like a playful child. The singer just seemed so happy–content–to be exactly here she was, as if she were Baylee's own personal ball of sunshine bouncing around his kitchen.
Walking out of the kitchen, she threw a "I just gotta get dressed. Back in a sec!" over her shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom with a armful of clothes. Gentle sounds came from within, along with the unmistakable trilling notes of her voice rising and falling to a song Baylee couldn't make the words out of.
About twenty minutes later, Mila reemerged clad in her usual skin tight black jeans and oversized tshirt. Her hair was loosely braided over her shoulder and she'd even dashed a small amount of makeup on, making her eyes stand out that much more. She looked remarkably similar to the night she and Baylee had first spoken.