“I’m not,” I claim, carefully slathering her skin before I flick my gaze up to her. “You are.”
I continue with my task, ignoring her gaping at me like an exotic fish in a bowl, and try to remain focused. If she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t eat. I’m not going to force-feed her.
“I’ll eat if you eat with me,” she says, prompting a silent sigh to release from my lips.
It’s not that I’m weirded out by eating in front of her. It’s that I have to so she does.
“Fine.”
Bay taps her fingers along the counter before reaching for a utensil and mercilessly stabbing the fried rice like it did something.
Then it’s in my face.
“Open up,” she orders flatly, and I can’t help but stare at it. No one has everfedme before.
“You first,” I retort, so she can’t double back.
“Me second.”
She’s a brat.
Now I know why Cairo doesn’t have any issue throwing it around.
Opening my mouth, Bay steadily slides the metal fork between my lips, and I close them around so she stops with this back-and-forth bullshit.
If it gets her to eat, I can withstand the awkward intimacy of her feeding me.
She’s just being stubborn as hell.
Bay follows through with her deal, scooping the smallest amount of rice when I clip out, “The same as me.”
She passes me a withering glare before scooping more rice and shoving it in her mouth with resentment.
I don’t care.
Plucking up the roll of plastic wrap, Bay doesn’t waste any time presenting me with more rice. And all I can think about is that her mouth was just on it.
“Was one bite good enough?” she taunts, a small smile gracing her lips, but I know she’s being cocky, not sweet.
My lips part, allowing her space to give me the rice, and she glides it through before sighing.
I won.
No matter how small the victory is, I still got her to eat without yelling.
“You suck,” she mutters, completing our agreement as I gingerly continue wrapping her arm. “I’m going to go get some more done tonight.” She lifts her arm a bit. “Wanna come with me?”
Yes.
I’m relieved she asked, and I bob my head that I will.
Bay is silent through the rest of me dressing her arm. She even picks at the chicken, teasing the idea she’ll eat some before dropping the fork and spinning out of the chair. She’s careful to go the other way so she doesn’t bump into me and abandons me in the kitchen while she retreats to the couch.
It’s a small win.
But she did what I asked with minimal effort, and we’re going out tonight.
I don’t know if I should be terrified or excited.
