Page 127 of The ABCs of You & Me

Sophie drops me off at my apartment and heads home to do some homeowner things, as she calls them. Walking through my door without her right there feels wrong though. She’s basically lived at my place for the last two weeks. Little Sophie mementos are dotted around the apartment, proof that she has been here and that she will be here again soon. Gary is the number one reason we’re usually here and not over at her house. She’s made a couple comments though about what room he’d probably like and how she’s got a few squirrels he could have stare-offs with. And while we’ve both acknowledged that this feels like it, we aren’t changing our addresses just yet.

As usual, Gary demands my attention the second I’m through the door. When I pick him up he climbs up and flops over my shoulder, his paws stretching out behind me. He only started doing this recently, as if he’s trying to get closer to Sophie when she comes in behind me. But she’s not here to scratch behind his ears and coo as she leans in and rubs her nose with his.

Sophie shows up half an hour before she said she would, dressed in tights and an old sweatshirt—comfy, like I requested.

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I’m sorry if this throws things—oh,” she squeaks as I pull her through the door and into my arms, our lips colliding.

“I think we’ve waited long enough, sunshine,” I breathe, running my nose along hers and feeling her relax against me.

She pulls back, her gaze sweeping over my face. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Are you ready for Z?” I ask as Gary yowls from the stool he’s perched on.

“So ready,” she says confidently, sliding by me to see him. “Hey, buddy,” she drawls, bending so he smooshes her nose with his entire face.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I rest my head on her shoulder. “He was not impressed when I walked in without you.”

“And to think he didn’t seem to want to share you with me at first.”

“I think he knows you’re not going anywhere.”

She turns slowly in my arms, smiling serenely up at me. I think she’s about to say something but ends up using her lips for something else.

The kiss probably would have evolved into more, but the sound of water boiling over has me jumping away from her and running to the stove.

“Crap!” I grumble as the pasta starch burns onto the burner.

“Damn, sorry,” Sophie says from behind me as she takes in the mess.

After quickly wiping the pot and sticking it on a fresh burner I turn back to her, cupping her face and pulling her mouth back to mine. “Worth it,” I hum.

Luckily I’m able to separate myself from her lips before the water boils over again.

“Four-mushroom, pea, and sausage orecchiette,” I say, placing a plate in front of Sophie.

She bends, smelling the food then sits back sighing. “You spoil me.”

“Well, don’t say that until after you’ve tried it,” I chuckle, sitting down across from her with my own plate.

“Is this part of the Z?” she asks.

“It is, although it won’t make sense until after.”

“How intriguing.” She smiles, taking her first bite. She reacts the way I dream of her reacting to everything she puts in her mouth. Eyes closed, a small smile, and a slight swaying as she hums her approval. “So good,” she moans, and I have to take a very deep slow breath to keep myself in check.

Now that I know she’s happy, I can dive into my own. It’s good, rich and garlicky, but it’s missing one thing for me. I open the chili oil I put on the table and spoon some on top, turning the dish red. Sophie watches with wide eyes as I take a bite.

“Now it’s perfect,” I say, offering her a bite.

“I believe you.” She declines a taste. “I’ve never had this kind of pasta before. It’s kind of adorable. Is that weird to say about pasta?”

“Orecchiette means ‘little ears’ in Italian, so it is kind of adorable. Or kind of disturbing,” I say.

Sophie laughs, picking up a piece and studying it. “It’s both, definitely both.”

We chat about our weeks, touching on things we haven’t yet and retelling stories we have definitely shared already but neither of us seems to mind. Sophie could tell me the same story every single day, and I’d happily listen.

When we finish eating, she insists on helping me clean up so we can get to the Z portion of the night faster. Technically we’re already in it, but I’m curious about what her reaction will be when I tell her.

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