Free More Than a Memory by Marie James

winking at me.
    How does the small bat of an eye make my heart race, and why do I pray he does it more often?
    “I would have given their pranks a run for their money. My life goal has always been to catch my sister off guard.” Discontent fills his voice as he reminisces.
    “I take it you weren’t always successful?”
    His laugh causes chills to race up my arms. It’s almost as glorious as the wink. “It may be the twin mind-reading thing, but she always knew what I had planned. She was even able to turn a few things back on me.”
    “You sound a little bitter about it,” I say as he hands me a plate.
    “You would be too if you spent a week working on the perfect way to scare someone and they don’t even blink when you carry your plan out.”
    I grin at the juvenile agitation he still has over failed pranks with his sister.
    Standing in the kitchen loading up our plates with beef and broccoli seems almost natural. The way I watch his muscles bunch and flex as he scoops fried rice onto his plate is also natural…in a lion watching its prey kind of way.
    He clears his throat and my eyes snap to his. I try to keep the embarrassment off my face at being caught salivating over him, but when I realize he’s only been pretending to put food on his plate while I watched in awe of his working body, my cheeks heat.
    I take the spoon from him, my eyes diverting to the food, and place a small pile of rice on my plate, mumbling, “Thanks.”
    “You may want a little more than that. You seem pretty hungry,” he whispers in my ear as he walks out of the kitchen. The graze of his back against mine is intentional. The heat radiating off his skin is pure bliss.
    I hang my head in shame, mortified, and contemplate heading to my room for the rest of the evening.
    “You’re going to miss Harry getting dropped off at his horrible aunt and uncle’s house if you don’t hurry, Liv!”
    I smile at the nickname he’s never used before. A few friends in school started calling me that, but it never overpowered the “Ollie” my dad has been using since I was born.
    I join him on the couch and wait for the awkward conversation to pop up again. It’s not the first time he’s caught me appreciating his body, and if he keeps living here, it won’t be the last. In my defense, he’s practically half naked and cut like an Olympian. I’d like to meet a heterosexual woman who wouldn’t do a double take at a shirtless Bryson Daniels. I imagine the list would lean toward the geriatric end of the spectrum, or the blind.
    “What are you doing?” he chastises as I scoot a sliver of watercress away from my food. “That’s the best part!”
    I hold my plate up for him as he stabs the evil vegetable with his fork and pops it into his mouth.
    Plush lips, strong jaw, and masculine slashed eyebrows—this man has everything going for him.
    I give my head a slight shake and turn my attention back to the TV. He seems relaxed and unfazed by sitting on the couch beside me. I, on the other hand, am full of turmoil. His thigh is touching mine, his shoulder bumps mine every now and then, and my body shakes slightly when he laughs, ever aware of his proximity.
    “You seem like a Hermione,” he says as Harry and Ron sit down beside her in the library.
    I watch her with sad eyes as she struggles to remain proud and unaffected by the naysayers trying to pull her down. I’m nothing like her. She stands up to those who throw negativity her way. She faces adversity with her head held high. I cower and hide.
    “I wish I were as strong as her,” I say, my voice low. “I used to be like her.”
    “What changed?” I tilt my head in his direction, finding the softness in his voice matches the compassion in his eyes.
    Looking away, I shake my head, trying my best not to let the tears stinging my eyes fall down my cheek.
    “Hey,” Bryson says, reaching over and hooking a finger under my chin, “forget I said anything.”
    His finger is gone just as