A bit of a cute bad boy moment with Kitty Kattar:
I force myself to smirk, trying to draw him back out again before he recedes entirely into his shadow. I don’t think about anything but the way his gaze seems to drop in increments until he’s just staring at his lap, his hands resting on his legs, but I hear my voice say teasingly, “I’ll give you one hint about what you’re getting. It’s your favorite color.”
“Boo,” he frowns, still not looking up, “the pink chocolates are the worst.”
“I never said I was getting you chocolate,” I start to laugh, this time genuinely, however subtle.
“But why not?” He looks up now, turning his palms upwards and shaking his head mildly at the ceiling like he’s pleading, albeit half-heartedly.
“You said I could get you anything, remember?” I smile, stealing the bag of pretzels from him casually as I sit back on my end of the couch.
“But when I said anything, I meant any flavor of chocolate, that wasn’t a pink one,” he tilts his head at me with just the trace of a pout.
“Well, that’s what you get for not saying what you want,” I grin, and stick my tongue out at him, before selecting a pretzel daintily.
Oh, these look like a combination of milk and dark chocolate…
I’ll leave the bitter ones for Kat.
Kattar smiles, now, just slightly, but sincerely, and I feel a warmth like mild sunshine wash me in comfort, if only for an instant, even as I recognize that sly energy that I pretend not to.
“Fine, do you know what I really want?” He tilts his head with that same subtle smile, crossing his arms over his cable-knit chest.
“What?” I ask slowly, as I cram as much of the pretzel as I can manage into my mouth to try to avoid dropping any crumbs on his couch.
“The other half of that pretzel you’re eating.”
He grins roguishly, and before I can say anything in response, he leans forward across the cushions, and bites off the other half of my pretzel, with a sort of half-kiss that turns my whole face burning red.
“Get your own!” I bluster, embarrassed and flustered in a sort of butterfly-ish flutter as he re-steals the pretzel bag and plops back against his pillows on the opposite end of the couch, “Give me that back!”
“Not on your life,” he grins, placing one of the pretzels between his teeth teasingly. “If you want it, come and get it.”
