I hear the familiar jingle of keys at my door, and I already know who it is. Like clockwork, Cheo lets himself in at 6 PM, wearing that goofy smile that somehow makes my heart skip a beat – not that I’d ever admit it.
“Honey, I’m home!” he announces dramatically, making me roll my eyes from my spot on the couch where I’m curled up with my laptop.
“This isn’t your home, you dork,” I mutter, trying to hide my smile behind my screen. He flops down next to me, close enough that I can smell his cologne – something woodsy and warm that makes my cheeks heat up.
“But it could be,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “You know what they say about home being where the heart is, and mine’s definitely with you, Cora.”
I groan at the terrible line, but my face betrays me by turning pink. “That was awful, even for you.”
“Ah, but you’re blushing,” he points out, poking my cheek gently. “I’d say mission accomplished.”
I swat his hand away, trying to focus on my work, but it’s impossible with him this close. Cheo has been my friend since forever, but lately, something’s changed. Or maybe it was always there, and I’m just now noticing the way my stomach does flip-flops when he smiles at me.
“Are you a magnet? Because I’m feeling very attracted to you right now,” he says, completely straight-faced.
I slam my laptop shut. “That’s it. I’m changing my locks.”
“No, you won’t,” he grins, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The casual touch sends shivers down my spine. “You’d miss me too much.”
The worst part is, he’s right. My apartment feels empty when he’s not here, making terrible jokes and filling the space with his presence. I’ve gotten used to our evening routine – him showing up unannounced, ordering takeout, watching movies until late.
“Earth to Cora,” he waves his hand in front of my face. “You’re doing that thing again where you get all quiet and lost in thought. Share with the class?”
I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Just thinking about how annoying you are.”
“Annoying enough to make you fall in love with me?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that makes me look up. The usual playfulness is there, but underneath it, I catch a glimpse of vulnerability that makes my heart ache.
“Cheo…” I start, but I’m not sure what to say.
He shifts closer, and suddenly the air feels thick with tension. “You know, I’ve got one more terrible pick-up line for you.”
“Oh no,” I groan, but I’m smiling.
“What if I told you that every bad pick-up line, every time I’ve shown up here uninvited, every moment I’ve spent trying to make you blush – it’s all because I’m completely, ridiculously in love with you?”
My heart stops. “That’s… that’s not even a pick-up line,” I manage to whisper.
“No,” he agrees, reaching for my hand. “It’s just the truth.”
I stare at our intertwined fingers, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. All this time, I’ve been fighting against these feelings, trying to preserve our friendship, when maybe what we could have is something even better.
“You’re supposed to say something now,” he prompts gently, though I can hear the nervousness in his voice.
Instead of speaking, I lean forward and press my lips to his. It’s soft and sweet and perfect, and when I pull back, his expression is priceless – a mixture of shock and joy that makes me laugh.
“Was that clear enough for you?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he grins. “I might need you to explain it again.”
So I do, and this time when we kiss, it feels like coming home. Maybe he was right about that all along.
“Just so you know,” I say later, as we’re cuddled on the couch watching a movie, “your pick-up lines are still terrible.”
He kisses the top of my head. “As long as they keep making you blush, I’m never going to stop.”
And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.