Page 128 of Sparks Fly

Her stomach growled. “That was rude,” she said looking down at her stomach.

“You’re hungry. We need food.”

“I haven’t eaten since brunch before the plane.”

I stared at her. “Addison.”

“I was busy.”

“You were traveling.”

“And recovering from being drunk.”

I shook my head and picked up my phone. “What do you want?”

“Fries.” She answered instantly.

“Real food.”

“Fries are real food.” She said. “Potatoes. Excuse me.”

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting cross-legged in my bed with takeout containers. Addison reached over and stole a fry from my plate despite having her own.

I smacked her hand away. “Eat yours.”

“They taste better when they’re yours.”

“That’s not how fries work.” I laughed.

“It’s exactly how fries work.”

She stole another. We put on Buffy after we ate. Or at least, I watched Buffy. Addison lasted about twenty minutes before laying on my chest. I could feel her getting heavy with sleep.

“You awake?” I asked softly.

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

I smiled and ran my fingers through her hair. Thirty seconds later, her breathing evened out.

I finished the episode with my hand still running though her hair, just happy she was back.

It felt simple.

Not temporary or fragile. Just ours.

* * *

37

Addison

The weeks after the trip settled into something new.

At the beginning of our relationship, everything had felt careful. One night during the week. One night on the weekend. Like we were both pretending we had better boundaries than we actually did.