Page 93 of The Turning of the Tables

This time I swallowed back my amusement, not wanting to share that particular part of my not-really-relationship with Elliot with Noah.

You think I can trade those for duck?

If you want to be a duck-whore.

That one was really hard to keep to myself. I succeeded by stuffing the rest of my first toast into my mouth.

I’ll have to keep that in mind as a career option now.

Seriously, though. You need meat.

Yeah, that’s what they tell me.

Noah stood up, then, holding a stack of movies. “Okay,” he said in his bossiest voice. “We’re going to marathon all ofStar Wars.”

“All of it?” I asked incredulously.

“All of it. We just might take a break for sleep.”

“Okay,” I agreed. I didn’t actually care.

“Release order, or story order?”

“Story,” I told him. He always preferred story order, anyway.

“Excellent.” Then he rounded on me. “You have to eat more than peanut butter toast, though. So what do you want? And no,” he continued before I could suggest it, “duck isn’t a choice.”

I sighed. “Pad thai,” I answered.

“And?”

I looked up at him. “We usually get appetizers and stuff. That’s still fine.”

“You have to eat at least two entrées,” he informed me.

“Two?”

“Yep. So what else?”

“Panang curry?”

“Okay.” He started tapping at his phone, presumably ordering food.

I texted Elliot.

Noah is making me eat enough Thai food for at least two people.

Good. And ice cream. Make sure you eat ice cream. Can you eat ice cream?

Cashew milk or soy, yeah.

Cashew would be better. More protein.

Okay, mom.

You’re my baby shifter. I have to make sure you’re eating your meat and fake dairy.

I snorted again, which I got away with because Noah had left the room.