Red tinges his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Nothing suspicious,” he replies.
I nudge towards his arm. “So, I’m seeing things.”
“You are,” he’s smiling.Almost. Whatever curve on his lips is, it’s close to a smile.
“Hm,” I walk until I’m standing in front of him. “If I tickle you right now, I wouldn’t find a glass in your hand?”
He narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You sure, big guy?”
Whatever challenge he sees in my eye has him surrendering. “Not happy about this,” he mutters under his breath before handing over the glass.
I was right. It’s Dean’s smoothie.
Except there’s white Jasmines decorating the top of it.
“It’s for you,” his blush deepens.
I look at the glass, then at him. Afterwards, my heart slows and turns into an overwhelming mess. What’s this feeling and why amIfeeling it?
“You made it for me?”With the flowers?He carefully picked thegrown ones, the nicer ones, the ones that smell fresh and loved. Dean picked out the stems, leaving the petals floating mindlessly in the drink.
I’m floored.
Under different circumstances, I’d barf at the idea of drinking whatever this is.
But because he made it for me and took his time with it, I take the glass from him, swallowing dryness, and taking a hesitant sip while holding my breath.
The first hit on my tongue surprises me. It tastes like strawberry and a hint of peanut butter. “This is… surprisingly good.”
A hazy look of approval flourishes through his features. “It’s a shock you didn’t dump it.”
“Trust me,” I take another sip. “I thought about it.”
“I had to return the favour somehow,” he says before sitting back down.
I follow suit next to him. “Favour?”
“You made me cereal.”
I choke loud and hard.
He snorts back a chuckle. “Good?”
Wiping my lips, “Great.”
Both of us know how amazing that cereal was.
He’s treating me better than I treated him.
“Did you go for an interview?” He asks after a minute.
“I did,” I offer him the glass, but he politely shakes his head. “Have you been to the interviews?”
“I have.”
“And youtalk?”
