"You're impossible."
I sit up dramatically. "I need food. Real food. Or I'll perish." He groans, flopping onto his back. "There's nothing up here."
I grin. "Then we go downstairs."
His head snaps toward me. "What?"
"Maybe the kitchen's still stocked. I bet there's something."
"Gio. It's the middle of the night."
"Which is exactly when snacks hit hardest."
"You're not serious."
I sit up and start getting dressed. Yeah, okay, feelings are cute and all, but I don't play games when it comes to food. I'll go out to eat even if it's four in the morning and snowing.
If my stomach says move, I move. End of discussion.
"Oh my god. Youareserious."
"I'm a man of action," I declare, grabbing his shirt off the chair and tossing it at him. "Put this on and come with me." He stares at me. Then at the shirt. Then back at me. "You drag me to emotional hell and back and basically kinda take my virginity, and now you want me to put on clothes?"
"First of all," I say, pulling my hoodie over my head, "you camewillinglyto emotional hell. You fucking dove. Second, if I go alone, I might end up eating pickles and ketchup. Do you really want that on your conscience?"
He sighs, covers his face with both hands, then peeks out at me. "You're actually the worst."
"And yet, here you are, getting dressed for me."
"I hate you."
"Sure, ravioli."
He groans dramatically but slips into his pants anyway. Now he's standing in front of the mirror, staring at himself.
"I look like a corpse," he mutters.
"Yeah, well, you're a fine ass corpse then," I say.
He laughs. And because he laughs, I laugh too. That's the annoying part. How automatic it is. I feel weird around him now. Not in a bad way. It's like my heart clocks in for a shift instead of just our bodies. Before, it was all touch and heat and tension. Now there's this extra layer on top of everything, like someone slapped a label on him.
I don't know if it's because I'm carrying the title of his first now, but I feel like he's under my protection.
Like I owe him something just for trusting me with that.
Does it bother me? No.
Is it gonna be a problem for our future? Hundred percent.
As we sneak into the hallway, I lean close to him. "Don't worry. If someone sees us, I'll just say you got hungry after ruining my entire life."
"Shut up," he hisses, but he's smiling. Blushing.
We're making our way down the stairs, slowly.
"Is your ass alright?" I ask. "Need a break? Want me to carry you bridal-style or piggyback?" He doesn't even let me finish the joke.
He elbows me in the side. "You dumb fuck."
