Page 108 of Class Clown

He tipped his head toward the couch and I followed him over, sitting on one end and stretching my legs out to push my toes up against his thigh. This domestic feeling had caught me off guard at first, how we were both content to spend several days each week simply existing together inside ofmy home. We’d cook meals and watch shows until he made his way back to Brooks’s guest room and I’d never felt so secure. This love didn’t require elaborate dates or big gestures, it simply required closeness, which was fine by me.

“What sounds good for dinner tonight?” I asked him. “I have eggs and bread. Toast and fried eggs? I might have some strawberries left.”

He caressed the top of my foot. “Actually, I thought maybe I could take you out tonight.”

I sat up. “Okay. Just let me freshen up a bit.”

I’d been home for an hour already and that meant the hair had been pulled up and comfy clothes put on. I danced happily around the apartment, gathering clean clothes and making quick work of changing into jeans and a cute blouse before heading into the bathroom to refresh my make-up.

I bent down to pull my make-up kit out from under the sink, and when I stood I was met with Nico’s dark eyes looking back at me in the mirror. I screeched and grabbed at my chest.

I scowled over my shoulder at him. “Do not sneak up on me like that,” I cried. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry.” His eyes took in my skin care products. “I thought I’d chat with you while you got ready. I really can’t get over how much goes into your skin routine.”

I opened my kit and shuffled through it for some eye shadow. “You shared the cabin with me all summer, this should not be such a surprise.”

“I think your products multiplied when you got home.”

“My skin needs to be babied.”

“It’s like the whole health and beauty section exploded in here.”

Finished with my shadow, I paused before re-lining my eyes to grin at him. “I find it soothing. Like a spa. Besides, a girl needs at least one place in her life where she can be a slob and this is mine.”

He leaned closer. “We’ll have to make sure we have double sinks, then.”

He was thinking future. Me likey.

“What’s this face?” he asked, smirking. “You’re going to have to stop being shocked when I talk about our future. I didn’t move to an entirely different state on a whim. You’re it for me.”

I nodded, butterflies flying. “Me too, Papa Bear.”

He scrunched up his face. “No. How are you still struggling with this nickname thing? You read romance novels like some people follow sports. This should not be a problem.”

I snapped my fingers. “How about Captain? Or Lieutenant?”

He shook his head. “I don’t even want a nickname.”

“I’ll land on it.”

“How about you finish up your eye stuff and let’s get out of here, I’m hungry.”

“Aye-aye, Seargent Sweet Britches.”

He groaned.

“Does it ever scare you that we don’t fight?” I asked thirty minutes later as we dove into the bowls of pasta at our favorite Italian place. “Because people should fight, unless they’re not being authentic with each other.”

He chewed his fettucine alfredo thoughtfully. “I’ve never been sad to not fight with someone.”

“But we should at least argue more,” I returned. “Right? My friends argue with their boyfriends.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Being late to things, not agreeing on directions, where to have dinner. Are we being honest with each other?”

He grinned. “You’re always on time, which I love. I follow your directions because you actually know where we’re going, and we like the same foods. I don’t see that as an issue, but a relief.”

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