Page 60 of Cat’s Guide To Romance

Sparkle crouches beside the pit, blowing on the pathetic little flame while I wave smoke away from my face. His ears are flattened, and there’s a black smudge across his cheek that I desperately want to wipe away, but I have a feeling that might interfere with his current battle against nature.

“More sticks,” he orders, holding out his hand.

I find one and place it in his palm.

“Smaller.”

I find a smaller one.

There’s a look of disgust on his pretty face and he drops the stick. “Dry.”

I look from the stick to him. “They’re all made of tree, Sparkle.”

Sparkle snorts and returns his attention to the fire. The tiny flame catches another twig, then another, and his whole face lights up. He makes an excited noise and grabs my wrist. “Look! We made fire.”

I crouch beside him and admire our tiny creation. Unfortunately, the flame immediately goes out.

We stare at the smoking pile between us until Sparkle sighs. “Damn.”

“Magic?” I ask hopefully.

His shoulders slump. “Magic.”

“Thank fuck.” I snap my fingers, and the fire roars to life. Sparkle drops backward onto his ass and starts laughing, and I sit beside him in the grass. “We are not terrible at this. We successfully erected a shelter.”

We both glance toward the tent. It’s leaning farther to the left now.

Sparkle laughs harder.

Eventually, we give up pretending we have anything to prove. I use magic to stabilize the tent, Sparkle finds the food, and we settle into two folding chairs beside the fire. This is much better.

The sky darkens around us while the woods fill with nighttime sounds. Sparkle keeps turning his head whenever something rustles, his ears swiveling independently toward every noise. I try not to stare at them. I fail.

“What?” he asks, catching me again.

“Your ears are doing things.”

“They’re listening.”

“I know. It’s adorable.” I hand him a roasting stick with a marshmallow shoved onto the end before preparing one for myself. “I researched this part extensively.”

“You watched a video, didn’t you?”

“Several.” I needed to know how to make the perfect s’more.

Sparkle holds his marshmallow over the fire, slowly turning the stick between his fingers. “How many marshmallows have you roasted in your centuries of existence?”

“This will be my first.”

His head turns toward me, and the teasing leaves his expression. “Really?” A soft smile spreads across his face. “Mine too.”

We hold our sticks over the flames together. Mine catches fire almost immediately, and I yank it back. “Oh, shit.”

“Blow it out!” Sparkle waves frantically at it.

“I know how fire works.” I blow out the flame and inspect the blackened remains.

Sparkle leans closer and gives the crusty outside a poke. “You murdered it.”