The cider donut stand had a line fifteen people deep.
Emma didn't care. She planted herself at the end of it with the determination of someone who had already decided this was worth the wait.
"They're fresh," she explained, like that justified everything. "They make them right there. You can watch."
She pointed to the window where a machine was dropping perfect rings of dough into hot oil, workers fishing them out and rolling them in cinnamon sugar while they were still glistening.
My insides clenched, a stomach growl escaping.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"No."
Another growl. Louder this time.Traitor.
"Your stomach disagrees."
"My stomach is a liar."
He gave me a look but didn't push.
The line crept forward.
Emma was telling Damien about some podcast she'd discovered, hands flying as she talked.
Damien nodded, the light in her eyes reflected in his.
"Four orders please," Damien announced when we finally reached the window.
One donut. How many calories in a cider donut?
"Actually, I'm not really hungry. I ate before we left."
The lie slipped out smooth as butter.
Emma frowned. "Are you sure? They're really good."
"I'm sure. But I'll steal a bite of Sebastian's."
"Oh, will you?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
"Consider it payment for emotional damages." I gestured at the Ferris wheel behind us. "I was traumatized."
"You literally said it wasn't terrible."
"The bar was low."
We found a bench near the bandstand and squeezed in together.
Emma and Damien demolished their donuts with alarming enthusiasm. Damien paused long enough to kiss sugar from the corner of her mouth.
Disgusting.
Also, ridiculously cute.
Sebastian held his out to me, eyebrow raised. "Payment for emotional damages?"
I hesitated.
