Page 10 of Make Me Want it Too

“Great. Looks like dinner is about done. I’m starving,” Spencer says.

“Yep, just a few more minutes,” I say as he disappears down the hall.

“There’s my girl. I’ve missed you.” Jake comes up behind Bex and wraps his arms around her, kissing her cheek and neck.

He’s all sweaty and probably smelly. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose. But Bex squeals and giggles, turning around after a second and kissing him hard on the mouth. They’re still making out when Spencer comes back out after a few minutes, hair wet, freshly showered and changed.

“Dinner and a show tonight. Wonderful,” he deadpans.

Bex flips him off over Jake’s shoulder. “You only have to put up with me a couple more days until the rest of our furniture arrives. And I’ll be leaving for work soon.”

“I’ll miss you,” Jake whispers against her neck.

She giggles.

Spencer rolls his eyes.

I take out the asparagus, then add the dressing to the salad.

“Everything is ready. Can you set the table while I run to the bathroom?”

“I hope the asparagus isn’t too salty this time,” Spencer says.

I hurry to the bathroom to check my blood sugar and inject my insulin. The finger prick is worse than the needle. Always hated it—that tiny drop of blood is the bane of my existence somedays.

But I go through the motions. Washing, sticking, reading, calculating, poking. The same routine I’ve done multiple times a day, every day since I was fourteen.

Calculating how much insulin I’ll need to inject is simple because we have this exact meal so many times and I’ve gotten my portions figured out.

I’m so glad Spencer is okay with eating the same meals over and over again. He’s a creature of habit and routine, just like me, and it’s one of the things that makes us so perfect for each other.

When I return from the bathroom, they’re all sitting at the table. Bex and Jake are filling their plates while making eyes at each other over the salad bowl. Spencer is already eating.

I take my seat next to him and make my own plate, reminding myself to try and keep the rice to the one cup serving size I planned for.

“Did you do something different with the rice?” Spencer asks.

A little spark of panic sinks through me. Was the box different this time? No, it was the same brand, the right color. And it tastes the same to me.

“No.”

“Hm.” He pushes his thin, wire-framed glasses up his straight nose and keeps eating.

“How’s the steak? Better this time?” I ask hopefully.

“Could use some steak sauce.”

“Oh. Okay.” I go to stand when Bex holds her hand up to stop me.

“You’ve barely gotten to take one bite.” She shoots a glare at Spencer. “You can get your own steak sauce.”

He looks at her for a minute and blinks.

“I’ll just go get it,” Jake pipes in with a nervous smile.

Spencer drops his fork, which clatters on his plate. “No. I’ll get it.” He smiles at Bex. Her nostrils flare.

I start slicing up my steak, but the sound is too loud in the now quiet apartment.

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