Page 122 of Save Me

I stare at the microwave cake I’ve made in mugs, topped with M&Ms, and the garlic aioli fries and burgers I picked up. I threw away the wrappers so it would look more homemade. Minky is currently head-deep in the trash, trying to inhale said wrappers, despite the fact that I buried them as deep as I could.

Then, there’s the sound of shuffling on the other side of the door, and as it opens, I straighten.

“Honeyyy, I’m hooome!” Micah exclaims. He stops as soon as he sees the table, and his eyes dart to mine.

Fuck, is he attractive. His eyes are so bright under that bright shock of hair. The energy he brings just lights up the room.

“Hey.” I hope my smile doesn’t give I’m-gonna-shit-myself-this-is-a-terrible-idea and gives I-remembered-my-speech-no-problem-it’s-not-even-a-speech-totally-natural-conversation.

“Mads,” he breathes, and his eyes are welling up. “What is this?”

“Well, I made dinner for Princess, actually—“ I can’t finish because Micah rounds the table and hurls himself at me. I stagger back a step as he wraps me in a hug.

“Holy freak, I love y–this!” Micah blurts. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course I didn’t have to—“ My brain buffers on what he said first.

Holy shit. What did he just say?

Micah stiffens, then pulls back, grabbing my shoulders and looking at my chest. “Holy crap, are those blue M&Ms?”

I glance at the table, suddenly worried I got the color wrong. “You said you liked those best?”

Micah looks back at me, pupils huge and eyes starting to glisten. My heart races. Holy shit, did I get them wrong?

“It’s perfect.” He hugs me again, squeezing hard. Minky jumps on our legs, trying to nip at our hips and anything he can get to. Micah laughs, releasing me and leaning down to give Minky some attention. But just as quickly, he whirls to the table.

“I’m starved!”

I sit down with him. Micah immediately starts on the fries, as I knew he would. He eats like he’s famished. “Did you have a good day?”

How am I going to start this? “Oh uh, yeah.”

Micah waves a fry at me. “I know you waited forever for these, and they’re good too, not even soggy.”

“I took them out of the bag as soon as I got them back.”

“See, you know what you’re doing.” He nods at me. “A human meat and fry expert.”

I cross my arms, and Micah grins. Princess comes to the edge of the table sniffing. I’m not really hungry, but I don’t want Micah to feel like he’s eating alone, so I hand a fry that’s not covered in sauce to Princess and Minky.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Micah waves at the table. “Did I win that foot pic contest from last week?”

I stare at him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Although I suppose you would have won it, considering they were your feet I took pictures of while you were asleep.”

My face gets hot, and Micah laughs. “I’m kidding! Kidding, don’t leave my towel in the shower.”

“Since when have I ever—” I start, but Micah smirks. He’s joking. He’s fucking joking.

That little shit.

I lean back in my stolen chair. “Actually, I wanted to tell you I think you should get the house.” My heart races despite my position. This is the game, getting him the big happy house in the movies. So why does it feel so uncomfortable?

Micah takes a big bite of the burger. For a second, he chews, and I don’t think he’s going to say anything, and my heart starts racing. Then, he says, “Owner said he wouldn’t accept feet pic money.”

What? My stomach sinks. I manage to choke out a, “Well, guess that one’s out the window.”