“Squeeze it, dummy,” Alex says.
“That doesn’t make it less weird.”
I snicker. All three of them look at me.
I snicker again.
“You dirty, dirty girl,” Derek says.
I shrug. “I saw the twinkle in your eyes too. Don’t act like it was just me.”
His mouth curves despite himself.
“What about cereal?” Alex asks suddenly, already rummaging through cabinets.
Derek closes his eyes. “Don’t.”
“There has to be cereal,” Alex insists.
"Here we go," Derek sighs.
“This is a house. Houses have cereal.”
“There is exactly one box,” Derek says. “And it’s not yours.”
Alex freezes, peering into the cabinet. “Granola?”
“Yes.”
“With flax?”
“Yes.”
"I'm not emotionally prepared for flax," he says aloud.
I bite back a laugh. Flax isn't friendly to me either.
Alex looks personally offended. “You don’t own real cereal?”
“I’m an adult,” Derek says evenly.
“Wow,” Alex mutters. “Tragic.”
Mark laughs. “He eats like he’s training for something.”
“I am,” Derek replies. “Not dying early.”
Alex finally pulls the box out, reads the label, sighs dramatically, and puts it back. “I miss my childhood.”
“I eat sugary cereal sometimes,” I offer.
Alex perks up. “See?”
"But I also eat oats."
His smile fades.
“Loaded with brown sugar,” I add.
