Page 125 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

It took George a second for his words to catch up. He paled, then reddened, then stormed over to the counter. Running away was his go-to when he was overwhelmed. I let him have it. Especially because it looked like he was about to make me a bomb-ass sandwich.

Peppers, turkey, lettuce.

Far more sophisticated than the ones we’d made together earlier that day.

“Are you saying I’m hungry because I didn’t swallow your cum, George?” I teased, stalking after him with a sly grin. I leaned into his personal space and kissed his blanket-covered shoulder, just because I could. He shook me off, hands full of deli meat, his brow furrowed.

“No.”

“Really? Because I think that’s exactly what you’re saying.” Christ, he was irresistible when he was annoyed. Part of me had wondered if sex would change our dynamic, but it hadn’t. I was glad. I’d never had more fun withanother person in my life.

There was, however, a new layer of intimacy between us.

Like a cushion.

Soft and unobtrusive. Like it should’ve been there all along.

“Stop talking about cum, and eat your sandwich.” George was apparently an olympic level sandwich maker because I hadn’t even realized he’d finished. He shoved the food against my chest, mayo—ugh—smearing on my shirt.

“You didn’t make one for you?” I took a bite, talking around my mouthful.

“Don’t talk when you’re chewing.” George’s face scrunched with disgust.

I swallowed, then smirked slyly. “Not hungry, huh? Belly full of?—”

“I willliterallystab you, I swear to god.”

I shut up. Because as much as I liked to tease him, the kitchen was full of knives—and I’d learned the hard way that George followed through with some of his threats. He looked incredibly pleased with himself as I finished my sandwich in silence.

Comfortable silence.

The kind of comfortable silence that should not come after a threat to stab someone, but it did. Because I was with George, and when we were together, even the quiet was pleasant.

“Thanks,” I said when I was done washing my hands in the sink. I took my time like I always did, and George watched me soap up like it was foreplay. And then, because I remembered just how much he’d lit up when I praised him, I added, “Best goddamn sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that,” George waved me off.

His ears were red, betraying him.

George had already cleared up the mess we’d made and was waiting eagerly, his blanket draped over his shoulders like a cloak. He really did look regal like that. Regal and dorky. My own personal elf.

“C’mon, Legolas,” I urged. “Time to get that sexy ass ready for bed.”

George scoffed as I slung an arm over his shoulders, leading him back outof the kitchen and off to the tent to grab our hygiene stuff. He griped at me over how much toothpaste I used, but aside from that, was content to remain in silence at my side as we got ready for bed. Despite his chatter, it was clear how much George liked my meticulous routine.

“I knew he had a clean mouth,” he muttered to himself, thinking I couldn’t hear. I gargled more mouthwash, trying not to laugh. Of course he, of all people, would appreciate that.

Zipped up in the tent, with his nightlight on, and both of us dressed down, neither of us seemed to know what to do next. I wanted to offer him my bed again—to save him from the bugs—and steal a cuddle or two, but had a feeling, especially after how vulnerable he’d been during sex, if I offered he’d refuse.

I was wrong.

George surprised me once again.

“Alex…?” George’s voice was small—like it had been the night before when he’d tapped me with his cold fingers and put aside his pride to ask for help. He didn’t look at me, arms stiff at his sides, minute trembles shaking his sexy hands.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I could…maybe?—”

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