"Never!"
"Say it." His hands move faster, and I shriek again, almost kicking him off the bed.
I'm seconds from spilling pistachio and whipped cream all over the mattress when I finally break. "Fine! Fine! I forgive you!" I scream through breathless laughter.
He was grinning like a victorious maniac while I clutch the pint, wheezing and red-faced.
I glare weakly at him between gasps. "You're evil."
"Evil, but forgiven," he says smugly.
I'm still trying to catch my breath, clinging to the pint like it's my life support, when it hits me.
Zach is right there.
On top of me.
One arm braced on the mattress, the other still hovering dangerously close to my ribs, his face inches from mine. He's laughing, his silver eyes bright, hair falling over his forehead, lips parted—God, don't look at his lips, Caroline.
Too late.
My traitor brain goes full IMAX: Zach pinning me down, laughing with me, at me, whatever—it doesn't matter. Becausefrom this angle, from this closeness, it doesn't look likebest friends goofing around. It looks like something else.
Something way more...couple-y.
Like, if someone walked in right now, they wouldn't thinkOh, cute besties messing around.
No. They'd thinkYep, they're definitely making out in three, two, one—
My stomach does a full-on Cirque du Soleil flip. My cheeks are on fire.
Meanwhile, my brain is screaming:Careful, Sugarplum. One more second of this and you'll be writing your wedding vows.
I shove at his chest weakly, trying to sound casual even though my voice cracks. "Okay, okay, you win! Now get off me, you're heavy."
He chuckles, finally rolling off me and flopping onto his back, still smug as hell.
And me? I'm lying there, heartbeat in overdrive, ice cream melting in my hand, pretending I'm fine. Totally fine. Not at all imagining what it would feel like if he leaned down those extra two inches and—Stop!
A few songs later, we're back in rhythm. Taylor's blasting, the whipped cream can is half-dead, and both our pints are scraped clean. My stomach's full, my heart's lighter than it has any right to be.
I set my empty cup down beside his on the nightstand and let out a sigh. "This is why I don't lose weight. You keep shoving sweet stuff at me."
Zach leans back against my headboard, one arm tossed behind his head, smirking. "What can I say? You've got a sweet tooth. And this—" he gestures at the empty pint, "is literally the only thing that cures your sulking."
I shoot him a look. He grins wider.
"And for the record? You don't need to lose weight. You're gorgeous just the way you are."
My jaw drops. "Gorgeous? Hideous, you mean." I flop dramatically onto my back, pouting up at the ceiling. "Zach, look at me. I'm basically the size of a small elephant. Been like this since freshman year. No matter what I do, it doesn't change. And now I finally figured out why."
He chuckles, amused. "Oh yeah? Why?"
"Because you," I point at him accusingly, "keep feeding me. You're literally sabotaging me every time I try to eat like... lettuce or whatever." I grab the little bit of belly I've got, groaning. "See? Exhibit A."
He laughs, catching my hands and swatting them away. "Stop. You're being ridiculous."
"I'm serious!"
