She's smiling at me.

It's a smile that reaches those doe-eyes.

I should kiss her; I want to kiss her.

And not just because I know my parents are going to be entering the kitchen at any moment. I want to kiss her because Easton's stupid words are replaying in my mind again. The bastard was right about Nova. Her stubbornness, boldness, personality, looks – they've all gotten to me. She's different from the other girls I've met, and the thought excites me; makes me feel like I'm about to do something dangerous.

But before I can do anything, Nova turns back to the sink and turns off the tap. "I told Hazel I'd clean the kitchen."

My arms are still wrapped around her waist, allowing me to feel the way her muscles contract as she wets a cloth in hot, soapy water, as she attacks the large pile of dirty dishes that need washing. I can also feel four eyes burning into the back of my head.

Julia and Easton – them being the mysterious guests was a great surprise and I'm happy to see them, but this must be pretty fucking weird for them. If anyone knows how Nova and I really act around each other, it's them.

There's just one problem with their judgemental stares: They haven't been with us for the past week. I know a week isn't a long time, but we've been stuck side-by-side, Nova and I. We were bound to create some type of bond. And I think we have. It's fragile and new, but it's there.

I never expected this to happen – especially with her – and I'm not used to wanting more than a one-night stand with a girl. Do I ask her on a date? Is she interested in me? I can't tell. Nova is like a rollercoaster: there are times where I think she wants more than friendship and does a damn good job of displaying it, and then there are times where we're back to being the roommates that despise each other.

Have girls always been this confusing or have I just been too drunk to notice?

"I'll help you," I say, stepping up beside her. I reach for the dry towel and wait for her to finish the dish she's working on.

If she looks at me, I can't tell. I keep my eyes locked on the view in front of me. There are clouds on the horizon, giving the air an electric feel, but I'm not worried. No matter the weather, the party will continue on. That's how my family and I roll.

"So, ladies?" Easton asks. "Which one?"

I glance over my shoulder, and Julia sends me a bored look. "Yours, Easton, yours."

Everyone's attention hones in on Nova; we're all waiting for her answer, which I can tell she finds ridiculous just by the look on her face. With the side view I have of her face, I also notice how pink her cheeks are.

I frown. Why is she embarrassed? Does she think I have the better body, or is she embarrassed because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings? Damn it. I can usually read a girl like an open picture book. But Nova? Shit, she's like a chapter book written in a different language.

She mumbles something.

"What was that?" I ask.

She repeats the words, louder this time, and I feel cocky-ass grin, as Nova would call it, spread across my lips. I look at Easton and raise my eyebrows. Even he seems shocked by Nova's answer, but I can't blame him – it's a hard thought to process.

Nova Elliot thinks I have a better body.

How about that.

"So it's a tie," Julia says.

"Well, we can't leave it at that," Easton argues. "A tie is no fun."

"What's a tie?" Mom asks, stepping into the kitchen with a couple of bags of ice.

"Easton's being his usual self and trying to prove he's better looking than me," I drawl. "Which, as we all know, is false."

"Bullshit," East says.

I roll my eyes, a comment sitting on my tongue.

"How mature of you two," Nova muses. "Arguing like children over who's better looking."

Mom glances between me and Nova, looking shocked. I suppress an eye roll. Yeah, I never used to help with the dishes when I was at home, but she doesn't need to analyze the situation. It's making me uncomfortable; scared that she's somehow infiltrating my mind and figuring out the truth. Eventually, Mom makes eye contact with me. "I like her – she certainly knows how to handle you boys and your juvenile behaviour."

"Hardly," Nova replies. "But I try my best."

"We both do," Julia inputs.

Now it's Julia's turn to my analyzed by my mom. I'm guessing she didn't notice the girl hanging off of East's arm when she first walked into the kitchen. It doesn't surprise me. Julia is a different duck; she's full of voice and opinions, is never afraid to speak.

"I'm Julia Lowe," Julia says, reaching out to shake my mom's hand. "Easton's girlfriend and one of Hazel's bridesmaids."

To my left, Nova mutters something about cornering Hazel later. I suppress a laugh. She's pissed that Julia knew about her role in the wedding before arriving, and I can't blame her. It was unfair for Hazel to do that to her. My sister deserves to face Nova's wrath like the many times I have.

Nova and I have clearly been forgotten, but I don't mind. Since the day we arrived, we've been the talk of the house, constantly crowded like celebrities. So, while Mom and Dad guide Easton and Julia to the living room, I turn back to the dishes.

For the first time in my life, I'm happy about doing the fucking dishes.

It takes at least twenty minutes for us to finish the dishes and begin to attack the icing-coated countertop.

"What the hell were you two doing?" I ask as I aggressively scrub at a hardened clump of icing. It's like the sugary shit has been cemented to the marble.

"Icing cupcakes," Nova replies as she scrubs at her own mound of icing.

"Smart ass," I comment.

"Jerk," she retorts. "That's really what we were doing."

"No shit," I mutter. "But did you actually get any icing on the cupcakes? It looks like the two of you had an icing fight and both lost. Badly."

When she's finished with the spot, she walks over to the sink to rinse her sticky cloth. "Honestly? I'm assuming we ate our weight in icing and missed seventy per cent of the actual cupcakes. But at least the effort is there."

I finally manage to break through the cemented icing. "You don't say?" I ask, walking to the sink. We've spent so much time scrubbing that the suds in the warm water have begun to diminish.

"You've got icing on your face," I say as Nova dries her hands on a fresh towel.

Her hand flies up to her cheek, brown eyes widening. "Really? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I must have looked like an absolute fool."

I laugh. "You could come walking down in a clown costume and no one in this house would judge you. So don't worry about some icing on your cheek."

I'm lying to her. There's nothing on her cheek, but I can't help it when it comes to teasing her. She makes it too easy, and the properties of her reaction are a total turn-on.

"Where is it?" she asks, those dainty hands of hers touching various spots on her face. "Tell me so I can wipe it away."

She's turned to face me now, so we're both parallel in direction, but definitely not in height and body mass. That, however, slips my mind because all I can focus on is how close we are. Close enough that I can smell her vanilla-citrus perfume. We're also alone, which makes her all the more tempting. It would be easy to lean down and kiss her, to lift her slender body up and sit her down on the edge of the counter.

Nova would kill me if she had the ability to read my mind.

I stare into those dark brown eyes, picking out the little flecks of gold in them. I attempt to picture another girl in her place. It's a pointless attempt – all I can picture is her heart-shaped face, brown eyes, long lashes, creamy skin, and fiery auburn hair.

"Right here," I murmur, resting my hand on her face and rubbing the corner of her mouth with the pad of my thumb. Nova stiffens, but it doesn't offend me. There's a unique flare in the depths of her brown eyes, one I've never seen before.

She's not repulsed, I realize. She's scared. Scared of what she's feeling. Of the blatantly obvious chemistry that is between us.

And although I hate to admit it, I'm a little scared, too.

Just when I've worked up the courage to say something, to make a move, Nova turns away. "We should probably go join the others."

No. Let's stay here. Just you and me.

"Yeah," I reply. "Okay, sounds good."

Nova scurries out of the kitchen, leaving me standing in front of the sink alone. I mentally curse. I'm Warren Ashford – the guy that can get whatever girl he wants. Since when do I back off? Since when do I give up so easily when a girl is playing hard to get? I get what I want when I want it.

Something's wrong with me.

Yeah, dipshit, a small voice in my head says, you're hung-up on Nova Elliot. Fucking lunatic for even thinking you could be with someone like her, but she's got you hooked.

I silently groan.

My genius plan and its calamities.