Miles leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Agreed. Fresh start. Let’s find something neither of us has seen.”
“Something new,” I emphasize. “No reboots, no spin-offs, no superhero origin stories.”
“So basically nothing from the past ten years,” he teases.
“Exactly.”
He scrolls through options, muttering commentary to himself. “Romcom… pass. Alien thriller—hard pass. Historical drama about theTitanic, but make it French—absolutely not.”
I laugh. “You have strong opinions for someone who was just willing to watch a two-hour car chase earlier.”
“Hey, car chases are cinematic art.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He pauses on a new indie-looking film. The cover is just two people sitting on a bench under string lights.
“What about this?”
“What’s it about?”
He reads the description aloud. “Two strangers stuck in an airport overnight share stories, secrets, and pizza. It’s supposed to be funny and a little sad but hopeful in the end.”
“That actually sounds… promising.”
He glances over at me, smiling. “See? Teamwork.”
“Teamwork,” I echo—and before I can hit play, his stomach growls loudly. Cartoonishly loud.
We both freeze. Then I burst out laughing.
He throws his hands up. “Okay, that was not subtle.”
I pause the TV and set the remote aside. “Come on. Let’s go get food.”
He follows me into the kitchen as the overhead light clicks on. We start perusing the refrigerator and cupboard contents. We’ve gone shopping a few times now to stock the kitchen, yet the inventory still looks like a grocery haul curated by a distracted five-year-old.
I prop my hands on my hips. “Okay, Chef Keller. What should we make?”
He squints into the pantry. “Hmm. Nothing is calling out to me.”
“We could input our ingredients into one of those recipe apps, and it’ll give us some options,” I suggest.
“We could…” he says slowly.
“Or…” I grin.
He grins back, eyes glinting. “We order Chinese.”
I chuckle. “Chinese it is!”
“I think that’s what the app was going to tell us anyway.”
“Absolutely.” I nod, my lips twitching upward.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and starts scrolling. “Do you want your favorite?”
“What’s my favorite?”
