Even when she’s pouting, Alexander thinks Eden’s the cutest thing he’s ever laid eyes upon. They’re seated at her kitchen table, which is just barely big enough for two. Her dish—spicy miso grilled shrimp over rice—was delectable; equal parts savory, spicy, and filling. Now they’re waiting for dessert, a rendition of campfire s’mores in a deep pie plate, which is baking slowly in the oven.
Alexander pokes her cheek. “Still mad at me?”
“No,” she says, clipped.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I should have known you were going to try and pay for the whole damn thing.”
Alexander rubs his neck, tilting his head from side to side to stretch his sore muscles. “I didn’t think you’d wrestle me in front of the cashier. You should consider becoming a professional MMA fighter if this whole chef thing doesn’t work out for you.”
This earns him a sheepish smile, but he knows he can do better.
“C’mon, Eden. Don’t be like that. I’m allowed to do nice stuff for my girlf—”
He stops himself before the word slips out, but Eden’s already smiling brighter than the sun. “For yourwhat?”
“Nothing.”
“You were going to say girlfriend, weren’t you?”
“N-no?”
“Holy shit, are you blushing?”
He clears his throat. “Absolutely not.”
Eden practically throws herself out of her chair and hops onto Alexander’s lap, straddling him between her thighs as she wraps her arms around his neck. She giggles, clearly pleased as punch. “You wanted to call me yourgirlfriend,” she says happily in a sing-song tone.
He gently grasps her chin in his hand, tilting upwards to better stare at her lips. “Say it again,” he orders, his voice a low grumble.
“Girl. Friend.”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?”
She shakes her head. “I mean, you’ve fed me a gazillion times by now. I’m pretty sure in some cultures that means we’re married.”
Alexander knows she’s trying to joke around, get a reaction out of him. Instead, he chuckles. “Hm…”
“What?”
He grins when she does. “I have a question for you.”
“What is it?” she asks.
“If you’re my girlfriend, wouldn’t you agree that I’m allowed to treat you to things?”
Eden presses her lips into a thin line. “Maybe. Sometimes.”
“Allthe time,” he corrects.
“Why?”
Alexander pauses for a moment, thinking it over with great care. “There is literally no one else on Earth that I’d rather spoil. You’re the only one I can think of who deserves nothing less.”
She pauses, looking deeply into his eyes. Alexander can’t tell what she’s thinking. Is she about to argue? About to cry?
God forbid it.
