"I know," I assure her. "Can I try some?"
She pushes the plate towards me, and I use my own fork to get some.
A disappointed expression crosses her face.
"What?" I ask curiously.
She clears her throat. "I half expected you to use your tail."
My lips quirk up into a smile. "You do like it when I do that."
It's hard not to feel good when she has such a response to something that's quite simple for me.
"It's fun," she mumbles.
"I'd like to think so," I respond, looking down and seeing the cake, remembering that I'm supposed to be trying it.
Her gaze bores into me as I lift the fork to my mouth. The way she watches makes me respond instantly. It's not just because she's looking at me, it's the way she makes it clear that she's thinking of something very specific.
"You know what, you're right," I muse. "That is better than sex."
Lottie huffs.
I grin at her. "I'm teasing,"
Amusement crosses her face, and she pulls the cake back towards her. I eat my own dessert, but I don't really taste it. I'm too caught up in watching her.
Our plates are cleared away almost as soon as we're done.
"Do you want to head straight back, or do you want to go somewhere else first?" I ask, leaning across the table and trying to decide which I want myself. I think the answer is that I don't mind so long as I get to spend time with her.
"Did you have somewhere in mind?" She asks curiously.
"There's a nice walk down by the beach. And an ice cream shop."
She groans. "As much as I love ice cream, I don't think I could possibly eat anything else right now."
"That's why we take the walk first," I say.
"Didn't we just have dessert?"
"A walk would mean a chance to regain your appetite so you can have an entire banana split."
"I wouldn't order that even if I were hungry. Between that and your sister's love of hot dogs, I'm slightly concerned about what they're serving you in the demon court."
"Not hot dogs and banana splits. That's what makes them so good," I respond. "Well, banana splits are good. Hot dogs aren't."
"Neither of them are great." She pulls a face, though I can tell she's not being entirely serious in her response.
I lean across the table, wishing we'd already left the restaurant so I could be closer to her. "So, what would you get?"
"Hmm, that's a good question." And it would be a lot easier to answer if I hadn't just had a three-course meal."
"You've still got to know a favourite," I protest.
"I'm the changes-my-mind-based-on-how-I'm-feeling kind of person."
"Ah."
