Page 99 of Puck Happens

“I’ll have a piece of chocolate cake,” Dillon announced.

My jaw dropped. “What are you doing?”

“Ordering dessert. I don’t have a problem with indecisiveness.”

“You can’t order, if I’m not ordering,” I insisted.

“Why not?”

“Because what am I supposed to do, just watch you eat cake right in front of me? How unfair is that?”

“Then I’ll share,” he said to me. To Jeremy, he tilted his head. “Dude, I’m sorry about this. My not-date is going through some things.”

“I don’t want to share your stupid chocolate cake,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

Annoyed. Dessert-less.

“Then what would you share?” he asked me, nudging my calf with his stupid foot. “Liv?”

“The bread pudding with vanilla ice cream,” I said quietly.

“We’ll take the bread pudding with vanilla ice cream. And two spoons,” Dillon said, a smile spread across his face, making his Dimples Grande stand out.

I wanted to punch him in that smiling face.

Unfortunately, I also wanted to make out with him.

* * *

Dillon

“Dillon! You promised.”

“It’s not even ten and you said you wanted to watch the end of it,” I told her as I parked in front of my building. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that we agreed. Food and that was it.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got all moony eyes over some Belgian guy on a Tour de France documentary. I’m also not the one who doesn’t have a Netflix subscription. And before you ask, no, I’m not giving you my password because Netflix is cracking down on that shit and I already gave it to Wendy.”

“First of all, do not disrespect the Green Jersey,” she shot back. “Also, I can’t believe you dismissed the entire sport like that. What those guys do is incredible.”

“Do you want to come upstairs and watch the last two episodes, or not?”

We’d hung out in bed with our postcoital glow on, watching the Netflix documentary. It had been nice. So nice I wanted that again.

I held my breath while she bit down on her bottom lip. Poor Liv, she’d been fighting a losing battle all night. The countdown was on in our relationship and I was going to spend as much time with her as I could. So I wasn’t making any of this easy for her.

“I guess I would like to see how it ends,” she said. “But right after, you have to drive me back to my apartment”

“Absolutely. Two episodes and then I’m driving you back to your apartment.”

“You know, we could just log into your account from my apartment.”

“And sit on that instrument of torture you call a couch? No thank you, I don’t want to start the season with an injury.”

“You’re a baby, you know that?”

“A baby with a Netflix subscription and a giant, very comfortable couch.”

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