Page 46 of Red Flag, Green Light

“Mm.” His smile broadens. “No. This bread is for toast.”

“I have a very specific meal plan.”

“Of course. Yes. I understand. And, yet, this bread told me it wanted to be toast.” He pries two slices free and pops them in the toaster. “Dying wish and all that. Who are we to deny it?”

Actual sentient beings, I think.

Despite my frown, Mars plates buttered toast beside scrambled eggs and sets it in front of me before sitting across from me with his own breakfast. He takes a bite, commends himself on havingdone it again, then gasps.

I tense as I reach for my fork. “What?”

He stands, invading my fridge once more. “I forgot drink.”

“I’m out of drink.”

Staring into my refrigerator, he echos, “You’re out of drink.” Wounded eyes locate me. “We bought so much juice. Is this why you offered me lemonade a moment ago?”

Yes, it is why I offered you lemonade an entire making-of-breakfast ago… “I’m a drink—” I cuss. “I can’t get enough. I go through a bottle a day, because hydration is important, and sugar contents can—” I swear. “—off.”

“Flag off,” Mars corrects me.

I angle a brow, because surely he did not just say that.

He closes my fridge. “Mind your language.”

“I picked my words intentionally.”

Mars slips into his chair again, retrieves his fork, and stacks eggs on his toast. “Little goddess, perchance are you upset?”

It takes a good few seconds for me to assess, but then I come to a remarkable conclusion. “Yes, it seems I am.”

“Don’t be.”

Wow. Sage advice. Let me just turn off the ol’ anger. Rats. Seems my expression didn’t get the memo, and now I’m scowling.

Gentle as a freight train, Mars looks me dead in the eye and says, “We’ll pick up groceries when we go out later.”

I shudder. “Go out later? What do you meango out later? We’re not going out today. It’s check-in day.”

“Yes, check-in day. And the task for this week is setting the bikeathon ducks in row, which involves heading to Dream Cycles. I popped a tire yesterday, so I’m coming with you.”

“You…what?”

“I popped a bike tire. Someone left a nail in the road. I had to call Jovey to come get me.” Cutting his fingers through his dark hair, he mumbles, “I’m lucky he was lucid enough to answer the phone.”

“Your…bike?”

Silence. Deafening silence. Mars’s smile wobbles, and he clears his throat. “Um. I don’t understand the disconnect.”

“You have a bike? Since when do you have a bike?”

His pupils flick between my eyes, disconcertion heavy in his gaze. “You don’t know that I have a bike?”

“Am I supposed to know you have a bike?” I know he has a bike. I’ve seen him on his bike. He’s seen me see him on his bike. But if gaslighting doesn’t make me feel better in the face of impending social situations, I don’t know what will.

His lips part. Something shatters in his gaze. “Even Amelia knows I have a bike.”

Morale. So much morale. This must be what it feels like to participate in Brian’s Countdown to Valentine’s Day event. “How does that have anything to do with me?”

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