Chapter 285
**Sara**
Tom's taste in furniture might be unnecessarily expensive, but I had to admit – this couch was worth every penny. The kind that swallowed you whole and made you never want to leave.
The coffee's aroma filled my nose as I took a careful sip. "Mm." The machine really did make better coffee than my cheap coffee maker at home. Another point for Tom's fancy gadgets.
I reached for the remote, fumbling with the multiple buttons. Why did everything in this apartment need its own remote? One for the TV, one for the blinds, probably one for the toilet if I looked hard enough.
The screen flickered to life. I flipped through channels, landing on a cooking show where some chef was having an emotional breakdown over undercooked risotto.
"It's RAW!" the chef screamed at a trembling contestant.
I snorted into my coffee as the chef continued his tirade. "This risotto is so undercooked, it's still telling bedtime stories to the raw rice in the pantry!"
Poor contestant looked ready to melt into a puddle right there on TV. Been there, buddy. My first attempt at cooking ended with pasta that was so overcooked that it could've doubled as wallpaper paste.
The mug was almost empty now, with just a sad ring of coffee at the bottom. I debated making another cup—Tom's fancy machine was right there, tempting me with its soft blue lights and promise of caffeinated heaven.
"One cup is enough," I told myself firmly, though the allure of a second cup tugged at my resolve. With a sigh, I placed the coffee mug on the coffee table, watching the last traces of liquid settle.
The chef on TV had moved on to massacring someone else's hopes and dreams. "This chicken is so raw, it's still posting updates on Twitter!"
I burst out laughing. These cooking shows were way more entertaining than they had any right to be.
The doorbell's chime cut through the chef's latest tirade about someone's tragic attempt at beef Wellington.
My heart did a little skip. Tom must have finally escaped whatever had kept him tied up at work. I scrambled off the couch, nearly tripping over my discarded heels in my rush to the door.
"Coming!" I called out, quickly running my fingers through my hair and straightening my work clothes. Wouldn't want him thinking I'd just been lounging around his apartment like I owned the place – even if that's exactly what I'd been doing.
I swung open the door, ready with a witty comment about his tardiness, but the words died in my throat. Instead of Tom's familiar grin, I found myself face-to-face with Leo's raised eyebrows.
"Well, well." Leo's grin spread across his face. "Didn't expect to find you here."
I felt my cheeks warm. "I, uh—" Real smooth, Sara. Real smooth.
"Isn't your boyfriend inside?" Leo peered over my shoulder into the apartment.
"Boyfriend?" I squeaked, then cleared my throat. "Did Tom say I was his girlfriend?"
"No, no." Leo held up his hands, that irritating smirk still plastered on his face. "Just asking."
"He's not my boyfriend. We're just..."
"Just?"
"It's complicated."
"The famous 'it's complicated' status. My favorite." Leo rocked back on his heels. "So are you going to let your not-boyfriend's brother stand out here all night, or...?"
"Oh! Sorry." I stepped aside, gesturing him in. "Come on in."
Leo breezed past me, his designer shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. "No sign of my big bro?"
"Nope. Just got here myself." I closed the door, watching as Leo surveyed the apartment like he owned the place. Well, technically, his family did own it, so I guess he had the right.
"Huh. Usually, he's home by now, muttering about how his students can't tell assets from liabilities." Leo's impression of Tom's frustrated professor voice was spot-on, making me bite back a laugh.
"Maybe he's still at the university?" I offered, following him into the living room where Gordon Ramsay was still terrorizing aspiring chefs.
"Quality television." Leo gestured at the screen where someone's soufflé had just collapsed. "Nothing like watching people's culinary dreams get crushed on national TV."
"I won't stay long," he continued, making a beeline for Tom's ridiculous wine collection. "Just came to grab something."
I watched as Leo navigated Tom's wine collection like a kid in a candy store. His fingers danced over the bottles until they landed on one particular specimen tucked away in the corner.
Leo pulled out the bottle with a label I couldn't read. He looked like a kid who'd just found the golden ticket in a chocolate bar.
"What's that?" I asked, peering at the bottle.
"Just a little something I've been meaning to snag from Tom's collection," Leo said, holding it up to the light. "Tell him I came by and took it, would you?"
"Sure," I said, trying not to laugh at his enthusiasm. "I'll let him know."
Leo cradled the wine bottle like it was his firstborn child. "You know, you two are kind of adorable together."
"We're not together-together," I protested, but even I could hear how weak that sounded.
"Right, right. Just 'complicated.'" He made air quotes with his free hand. "Because normal people always have keys to their not-boyfriend's luxury apartment and hang out alone drinking his fancy coffee."
I glanced guiltily at my empty mug. "The coffee machine seduced me. I'm innocent."
"The infamous coffee machine. Tom's true love." Leo grinned. "Though lately, I think it might have some competition."
"Stop it." I felt my cheeks warming again.
"What? I'm just saying, my brother seems different lately. Less..." He waved the wine bottle around, searching for words. "Less stick-up-his-ass professor-y."
"That's not even a word."
"It is now. I just invented it. Patent pending." He started toward the door, then turned back. "It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you two figured out this 'complicated' situation. As the younger, obviously more handsome brother, I feel it's my duty to meddle in Tom's love life." He opened the door, the bottle still tucked under his arm like a football. "Besides, you're the first woman he's let touch his precious coffee machine. That's practically a marriage proposal in Tom-speak."
"Goodbye, Leo," I said firmly.
"Alright, alright, I'm going. But seriously..." His expression softened for a moment. "You're good for him, Sara. Don't let him overthink things too much. It's kind of his specialty."
With that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving me standing in the doorway with my thoughts and the echo of his words.
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