I step closer, lowering my voice. “Jake. You need to eat. You burn through like… a thousand calories breathing.”
His mouth twitches. “That’s not how calories work.”
“You know what I mean,” I say, poking his chest lightly. “You’re going to get hangry.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He gives me a flat look. “I’m a grown man.”
“And yet,” I say sweetly, “you just complained about chicken portions like a toddler.”
His eyes narrow.
I smile wider.
He huffs, grabs his jacket, and pulls open the door. “Let’s go. I had a couple of your gummies anyway.”
I blink. “What gummies?”
He pauses in the doorway and glances back at me, his brows drawing together like I’m the one being confusing. “The ones on your nightstand.”
My stomach drops.
No.
No, no, no.
“You took the gummies on my nightstand? Are you sure?”
He looks at me like I’ve officially lost it. “Of course I’m sure.”
I just stare at him. “Jake.”
“What?” he asks, maddeningly calm.
My heart starts pounding again. Fast. Sharp.
I cannot believe this.
“How many,” I ask carefully, every word measured, “did you take?”
Jake shrugs.
A casual, broad-shouldered shrug that should be illegal in this situation.
“A handful,” he says. “Maybe.”
I stare at him.
My brain short-circuits.
“A handful,” I repeat, my voice climbing. “A handful of my gummies.”
He lifts one shoulder again. “They were on the nightstand.”
“They were on the nightstand because they’re mine,” I hiss.
