“That so? What can I get you then?” she asks, grabbing the paper to-go box that’s stamped with her logo.
“Can I get three vanilla and three cotton candy?”
“See?” Izzy points at her brother, and I honestly had no idea she was paying attention to him. “That’s weird. He doesn’t evenlikecotton candy.” She huffs. “Sounds like something you’d get.”
Itissomething I’d get.
What she doesn’t know is that Noah’s buying cupcakes for me.
And damn if that doesn’t make me smile.
“Do you want another lemonade?”
“No!” I yell to Noah, who’s in his kitchen. “But I need chocolate!”
“What kind?”
“Surprise me!”
I listen as he moves around, talking to Pork, who keeps meowing at him.
“You already had dinner.”Meow.“You did too.”Meow.“You’re not getting more.”Meow.“Do you want a treat?”Meow. Meow.“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I laugh at their interaction. For someone who claimed they weren’t going to be a cat dad, he sure has taken to his new friend over the last three weeks. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard people talking about them in town, especially since Noah takes the little guy just about everywhere with him.
It’s cute and does nothing to make me like him less.
Just like him leaving a cupcake I found sitting on the hood of my car last week didn’t help.
There was a simple note tucked under the treat that saidSee you tonight.
He did see me that night. And the next one too.
Beans hasn’t been happy with me leaving her so often, but I promised her I’d make Noah come to my place soon, mostly because I can’t remember the last time I slept in my own bed for more than two nights in a row.
Actually, I haven’t spent much time at my apartment in general. From working on the barn with Noah to planning the wedding—which I’ve taken to working on at Stick Taps for ...reasons—to always running around town so I can meet with vendors, I haven’t had much time to spend at my place. And that’s solely because I’d rather spend my nights here.
Luckily, the TV flicks back to what we were watching before I can analyze that too much.
“It’s on, it’s on, it’s on! Hurry!” I call.
I grin when Noah’s footsteps pick up, and he skids into the living room. “What’d I miss?”
“They just walked into the exam room.”
Noah settles onto the couch next to me, his eyes on the episode ofThe X-Fileson his TV with a gigantic bowl of popcorn in his hands. He kicks his other arm up over the back of the couch, and I resume my spot attached to his side.
We found an app that lets you watch live TV, and we’ve been in the middle of a Mulder-and-Scully marathon for days now. The only rules? We can’t pause anything. We have to use the bathroom and get snacks during the commercials, like you used to have to do before the days of TiVo and streaming. It was all Noah’s idea, and while at first I didn’t get it, I can see the appeal now. There’s a certain rush from getting all the things done before the show comes back on. We’ve even perfectly timed how long it takes to make a new bowl of popcorn during the breaks.
“This is some trippy shit,” he says, shoving a handful of our snacks into his mouth. Half of it falls back into the bowl, but I don’t care.
I’m having too much of a good time, and all we’re doing is snuggling on the couch.
“Did you grab the peanut butter M&M’s?”
He leans over, pulls the already half-gone bag from his pocket, and hands it to me. “We should probably go to the store soon. We’re running low on supplies.”
We.
