Josephine

During the car ride back to my apartment, he tells me more about sniper school and just what really goes into being an excellent sniper.

He usually doesn't say a lot, but when he's talking about something he loves and knows a lot about, he turns into a talking machine.

I look at his profile. His straight nose, strong jawline and a few days' worth of facial hair. They add more to his mysterious vibe he has going on.

When I saw him at the steps leading to my home in his jeans and white shirt that revealed every muscle, I almost started salivating.

He's big and strong. His arms' tendons moving and bulging every time he shot a gun or expertly dismantled a gun and put it back together in a few seconds.

He answered every question I had. No matter how silly it was.

His voice is calm and clear, talking with enthusiasm.

His fingers are...well, I don't know how else to describe them then as manly. How they wrapped around my small ones when he helped me hold a rifle. When he stood behind me, his arms around me holding the rifle, I could feel the warmth he radiated even though we weren't touching—only our hands.

He parks his truck in front of my building and he unbuckles, walks around the hood to my side, and opens the door for me.

From the few times I've ridden with him in this car, I've gotten the hang of the seatbelt, so I don't require his help this time.

He rests an arm on the roof of the truck and drapes the other on the door, caging me.

"I really enjoyed today." I say honestly. He smiles down at me because even though the truck is high, our faces are still not on the same level.

"Me, too."

"We should do this again some other time."

He seems surprised by my offer.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." I chuckle. "Are you kidding me? Guns are super cool."

"They can be." He says and steps back, offering his hand to me.

I take it and I jump down, his hand flying to my waist in fear of me planting on my face.

I beam at him when I successfully land on my feet.

"So..." he glances around the street, not knowing what to say.

"I'll text you when I'm free so we can do something equally fun again." I suggest.

"Yes, okay." His brows furrow as he looks up at my apartment building. His serious face makes me wonder if this is how he looks when he's aiming his sniper rifle at his target. He looks lethal, yet beautiful at the same time.

"Do you need me to walk you up?" He glances at me.

"It's alright. I'll wave at you from the window."

"Yes, do that." He nods.

I don't live in a sketchy place at all and there's a doorman during the night, so it's a safe building. But his concern is sweet.

"See you next time," I wave, then walk away.

I turn in the lock at my apartment and notice that it's unlocked. I know for a fact I locked it. Before I can panic, thinking a burglar or a murderer entered my home, I see my youngest brother, Julian, perched on my couch, a beer in hand.

"What are you doing here?!" I hiss at him.

I hang my purse and keys on the hanger next to the door and go to the window.

Leo is still standing where I left him, his arms crossed and eyes trained on me.

I raise my hand and give him a thumbs up. He waves back.

"Who's your boyfriend?" Julian creeps up next to me and whispers.

I push him away before Leo can see him and think he's my fling or something.

"He's not my boyfriend." Leo circles his car and gives me a quick wave before getting in behind the wheel.

"Who is it then?"

"He's my friend." I say in an angry tone. "What are you doing here Jul?" I ask him again, even though I know the answer.

"You weren't home, and I wanted to watch the game in peace." He nods to the TV that's playing a soccer game.

"So what if I wasn't home? You didn't text me beforehand."

All my brothers still live with my parents, minus my eldest brother, George, who's married and has baby twins and Milan, who lives with his girlfriend of one year.

So all of them like to pretend my place is a sports bar and come unannounced to watch games or sometimes just to 'chill'.

"When I knocked, and you didn't answer, I knew you weren't home."

I always tell them to text me before they come. But they almost never do. The few times they do, I always tell them they're welcome. So why is it so hard for them to just give me a heads up?

"What if I wanted to bring Leo up?"

"His name is Leo, huh?" He teases. I give him a look, but he doesn't take the hint. "I thought he wasn't your boyfriend?" He's truly confused at why I'm getting angry.

"He isn't." I seethe, on the brink of banging my head against the nearest wall. "But I don't like to be ambushed."

He makes a confused face. "What are you talking about? I didn't ambush you or whatever." His eyes flit between me and the tv.

This argument is pointless. I always say the same thing every time I come home to see one or two of my brothers on my couch, or when I'm laying in bed watching a movie and suddenly the door opens and they ruin my peaceful night.

"You know what?" I raise my hand in surrender. "Whatever. Just let me know when the game is done. I'm taking a shower." I showered this morning, but I need something to take my mind off this.

Way to ruin my good mood, brother.

•••

A few days after Leo took me to his friend's shooting range, my phone buzzes as I'm piping macaron batter onto the pan.

The irony isn't lost on me how I told Leo they taste like air a week ago and here I am, making them for myself.

But I'm good at baking and I'm adding my own little twist to them. Mixing two recipes into one.

Wiping my hands on my apron, I pick up my phone. It's a text from Leo.

Leonardo: Hey

Just a simple 'hey'. I smile and text the same thing back.

Leonardo: How are you?

I giggle at his texting. So formal and using no abbreviations. He even included the question mark.

Me: I'm good. You?

Leonardo: Alright.
What are you doing?

Me: baking. guess what I'm making

Leonardo: Cookies?

Me: nope. macarons 😂

The little three dots dance for a full minute before he responds.

Leonardo: I thought they tasted like air?

So he remembers what I said that time. I bite my lower lip and lean back against the counter, typing out a response.

Me: they do!! But im putting my spin on them 💁🏻‍♀️

He types for a minute. The dots stop dancing, then they appear. Then they disappear again. I sigh and turn on the oven to preheat, assuming someone pulled him away or something as his reason for not responding.

My phone buzzes on the counter, but it's not a notification; someone is calling me.

Leo.

I slowly raise the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey. It's me. Leo." Hé chuckles, awkwardly might I add.

"Hey, there."

"I'm bad at texting. And slow." He says as his reason for calling me.

"I noticed." I tease.

"Actually?"

I chuckle, putting my long bangs behind my ear when a strand falls from my bun.

"Not really, but you are slow at typing."

"I rarely ever text people. I either call or talk to them in person."

"I think you're one of the few ones who actually prefers calling instead of texting."

His chuckle echoes through the phone, deep and rich. "Yeah. Nicole never answers my calls. She would send me a text asking if it's an emergency, otherwise she would make me text her."

Her extreme ways make me laugh. "I would never decline. So feel free to call me anytime."

He hums and the phantom of its vibration travels through my body.

"So what spin did you do with the recipe?" He asks, reminding me of my last message to him.

"Well, they're gonna be like cookie macarons. The batter has the fluffiness of the macarons but the tastiness of chocolate chip cookies. Also, the filling in between is really good, if I say so myself."

"That sounds really delicious. I'll be there in ten." He chuckles and I do the same.

"Wait a sec." I put him on speaker and place my phone on the counter. "Okay, I put you on speaker so I can finish piping the batter."

He doesn't answer right away. "Mhmm, yeah." He mumbles.

"So what are you doing?" I ask him. "Beside talking to me."

"Laying in bed."

My mind immediately conjures a scene of him laying in his bed, only wearing underwear...or maybe nothing at all.

When did my mind turn so dirty?

"What did you do this weekend?" I ask to occupy my mind with something else. My hand clenches around the plastic bag and I squirt a perfect circle on the pan. So satisfying.

"Nothing really. Went on a walk. Went swimming."

I smile even though he can't see me.

"That's cool. Did you go to the beach?"

"No, we...we have a swimming pool at my parents' house."

"Ooh, fancy shmancy." Though there's a billion pools and beaches around Miami, I still wish this building had its own.

It's not a surprise he has a swimming pool in his house. His parents are owners of the hospital I work in. Along with the rest of his uncles and aunts. Their names are always floating around between the employees. But we're always saying good things about them. They have a good pension and health insurance policies. Vacation days are plenty and sick days are basically unlimited.

Apparently, they use the same policy Europe—more specifically Italy—uses for the MM.

Which is why I love working there and will probably work there till I retire.

"It's nothing big," he says about his pool, being humble and all. "What did you do?"

Him changing the subject is not very subtle, but I let it slide. "I had Saturday off, so my mama and I had a full spa day together." I continue telling him about my weekend as I put the pan in the oven and set the muffin shaped timer to one hour. Then, I walk a few steps to my living room and spread myself on the couch as we keep chatting.

I'm talking more than him, but we don't mind.

The sound of a beep goes off and I stand up to check on the macarookies—that's what I'm calling the macarons and cookie mix.

I'm still on the phone with Leo, talking about random things, from movies to hobbies to science things.

"The macarookies look perfect!" I exclaim, putting them on the stovetop to cool off.

"The what?" He laughs.

"Macarookies. A hyphen for macarons and cookies."

He continues softly laughing. "That's really creative."

"Thanks." Because I can't help myself, I take a bite of a macarookie. It's really hot but I can still taste the goodness of them. "Mmmm. They taste amazing."

"Damn, I wish I would've came. I really wanna taste them now."

"I'll save you one."

"When can I see you again?" He asks.

My breath hitches. Why, I'm not sure. I've been talking to him just fine for over an hour on the phone, but I get excited at the idea of seeing him again.

"Sadly, I'm booked this week."

"Me, too. I have this meeting with the CFO to talk about finance and shit." He jokes and I laugh.

"I'll text you when I'm free."

"Alright." We don't say anything for a beat, then he inhales and says, "well, I'll let you go now, have a good night."

"Yeah, you too."

I end the call and stare at my phone. The only people I can talk so freely with are my parents, Anya and Candy.

I always had trouble talking to guys, but with Leo, it's as easy as talking to one of my girl friends.

I'm not sure why, but I don't care enough to find out.

• ••• •

A/N:

Macarookies sound really yummy to me right now 😂

So this is the start of their friendship. Aaaaahh I'm so excited for their development ☺️🥰