“You’re not ruining it. We got to play a game. Besides, he gets competitive sometimes. It might not be the worst thing to stop now.”
“Where do you want to go?”
She grabs my hand. “I have an idea.”
I told everyone I was tired and going home early, which was only a half lie. I didn’t mean to lie at all, but Mom and Aunt Carol were already on my case earlier, and I didn’t want them talking about Lauren and me being an item again. It’s painful enough to remind myself I can’t be with her.
When Lauren drags me into her house several minutes later, a bright smile on her face, it’s almost enough to make me forget about the earlier memories.How does she do that?
She presses me down onto the couch and dashes into the kitchen.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back.”
I try to settle in, but the anticipation is killing me. I glance over my shoulder, watching her rummage around in her drawers. She disappears into the pantry and then reappears at my side with a package of Oreos, a jar of peanut butter, paper towels, and a butter knife.
She sets her items down on the table in front of us and wastes no time, turning on the TV and opening up her streaming app to none other thanBachelor in Paradise.She keeps her back turned to me as she spins the top off the peanut butter. It looks like it’s never even been opened.
She hands me a paper towel then pulls two Oreos from the package, popping them open and scooping a heaping pile of the spread into the middle before resealing the container.
“Is that the right peanut butter ratio?” She winces.
I want to kiss her right then and there.She remembers.And she didn’t just remember that I like to watchBachelor in Paradiseafter a hard day. She remembered this is my comfort snack. I must’ve mentioned that years ago.
I already had a million reasons to love Lauren before, but this adds to it, and it’s both incredible and torturous all at once because there’s no better feeling than being in love with someone, but there’s also no worse feeling than being in love with someone you can’t have.
“The ratio is perfect,” I manage.
“Which season do you want to watch?” She picks up the remote, studying the screen.
“Whichever one you want.”
“Come on! It’s not about me tonight. We’re trying tohelp you feel better. Tell me your favorite season or the one you watched last.”
I take the remote from her, navigating to the episode I left off on a couple months ago. She gives me a satisfied nod before snagging an Oreo of her own and scooping a tiny amount of peanut butter onto it.
I grab her hand before she puts the top back on, trying to pretend like I’m not completely distracted by her round hazel gaze or the crackle of electricity that bolts through me at the feeling of her warm skin under mine.
“You have to add more than that.”
She pulls the cookie closer. “Let me try it like this first. I might not like it.”
“You’re definitely not going to like it if you can’t even taste the peanut butter.” I grab the knife out of the jar and reach for her cookie. “Let me do it.”
She relents, and I slather on a respectable amount of creamy goodness before returning the cookie to her.
She takes it gingerly, eyeballing it before closing her eyes and biting down.
It barely touches her tongue before she’s moaning in delight. “This is amazing!”
“I told you.”
“How have I lived my whole life without this?”
I shrug. “Beats me. The good news is now that you know about it, you don’t have to go another day without it.”
She polishes off her treat and hits play, curling into the couch. She doesn’t even make it halfway through the first episode before she dozes off, her head bobbing until she finally gives into the exhaustion and falls asleep on my shoulder.
