Another good answer,I think as I stare up at him. His eyes meet mine, and my stomach flutters madly.
“Was that response too cliché?” he asks sheepishly.
Can he be any cuter with that expression?
No. He can’t.
“Not if you meant it,” I say.
“I meant it.”
Goose bumps ripple across my skin.
“I take it by the names of your chinchillas that you like Japanese food.”
I nod. “I do. I have a matcha latte twice a day. I love sushi. Yakitori. Tempura. Mochi, of course. Oh! And fruit sandos. I love those.”
“What’s a fruit sando?”
“A fruit sandwich. They’re delicious.”
Aiden wrinkles his nose. “A fruitsandwich?”
“Yes. It’s Japanese milk bread, and you put some sweetened whipped cream on it, then layer with fruit. I love strawberries on mine. It’s amazing, I promise.” Then I furrow my brow. “Wait, we’re supposed to be talking about you. Your basket. Not me and how I’m obsessed with fruit sandos.”
“Two,” Aiden says.
“Two?” I repeat, confused.
“Two times you’ve used the word obsessed,” he says, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his full lips.
Wait. I should NOT know that he has full lips.
Well, actually, I should. It’s an observationanda fact. I’m living my “Cinderella but not Cinderella” moment, so screw it. I’m going to take in those full lips if I want to.
And oh, I want to.
“I need to expand my vocabulary,” I reply.
“Nah. I’m just keeping a running list of your obsessions. Which include chinchillas and fruit sandos. Now there’s two things I never thought I’d ever say in a sentence.”
I chuckle at that. “But here we are.”
His eyes meet mine. “Yes. Here we are,” he says softly.
Ooh!
I clear my throat before he catches me staring at him with the equivalent of googly eyes. “Back to talking about you,” I redirect, looking at the basket again. “You’re a chocolate lover, but you don’t do ordinary. You like things beyond the mainstream. Like salted espresso truffles,” I say, picking up the box. “So you have a more sophisticated sweet tooth. Am I right?”
“Can you keep a secret?” Aiden asks, lowering his voice and moving closer to me.
“I can,” I say, putting the truffles back.
“Good. I’mobsessedwith sugar. Dessert. The more unique, the better. Oh, and if there is any kind of dessert competition show on TV? I’ll watch it.”
“Oh! Do you watchTheGreat British Baking Show?” I ask excitedly.
His eyes light up. “Of course. Do you?”
