Page 164 of Paradox
"I'll catch you ten whitefish."
"I'll shoot you a turkey."
"I'll grill you fish for dinner."
"I'll bring you some sugar." Jin stands, walks to the back of the truck and the chest full of supplies.
After he's put the sugar in my coffee, he sits on my lap and drapes the old crochet blanket over the both of us.
I swallow down the rest of the cold coffee then wrap my arms around him. "Wouldn't you rather be back by the fire?"
"Nah. I'm warmer here."
"You sure?"
"I'm always warmer wherever you are."
"Same." I squeeze him tight and rub my nose into his beanie. Which is my beanie—the one I gave him to wear the night we first ate outside. "I wish we still had gochujang."
"I'm gonna buy it in bulk so we never run out again."
"And I'll make sure we're fully stocked with olive oil."
"Is your apartment carpeted?"
"Only the bedrooms."
"New apartment rule; no olive oil in the bedrooms."
"Are you trying to tell me what I can and can't do in my own home?"
"I sure am, because you can't control yourself."
"But that's your fault. When I've got you this close, it's hard not to—"
Jin sits up quickly. "I think you've caught something."
"It's only been ten minutes." I tap his thighs so he moves then reach for the pole. "Oh shit."
"It must be dying to get eaten," he says in the cheekiest, most sexy little voice.
"If you want those ten fish, you're gonna need to stop talking."
I watch him wrap his lips around his teeth as he throws the blanket over his shoulders and hugs it together at his chest. I smile at myself as the fish tugs on the line because that stupid jacket is covered up now. It's the small victory of a battle Jin didn't even know he was fighting, and I should probably be embarrassed about how good it makes me feel. But I don't. Because when it comes to Jintae, I don't give two flying fucks about how stupid I look.
“Have you had enough?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum as I pick the last bit of grilled whitefish from its bones. “It’s so much better than trout.”
“It really is.”
Taking the piece of aluminum foil I’ve been using as a plate, I wrap up the bones and sweet potato skin then hold out my hand to Eden. After I’ve collected his, I walk to the truck and put it in a bucket with all the other trash on the floor of the cab.
“You should probably get an early start tomorrow morning," I say.
“Yeah? And why’s that?”
I lean back against the closed truck door. “You only filled half your quota.”
