Page 48 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Hilary growled a little at the implication, and Trenton kissed him.

“You don’t need to buy me a present. Every day with you already feels like one.”

“Shut up. You need to have things I buy so that you can think of me when you use them.”

“I’m always thinking of you already,” Trenton said and jerked his head toward the mess in the oven. “What were you making?”

“Bread bowls. I was going to put soup in them.”

“The soup should still be good.”

“It isn’t. I mixed up teaspoon with tablespoon and now it’s too salty.”

“We could try adding potatoes.”

“Forget it. Anything I make isn’t fit to feed to rats. You could end up in the hospital.”

But Trenton tried to fix it anyway, though he had to double the recipe and add almost a whole bag of potatoes to make it edible again, and all the while Hilary felt like an idiot child, following Trenton around the kitchen and watching him fix his screw-up, but Trenton didn’t think of it that way at all. His smile was real. “Thank you,” the boy said when they were finally sitting down to eat the soup. Trenton had also whipped up some quick-rising dinner rolls to eat with that patented rosemary butter.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You made me dinner. I’ll remember it forever.”

“Yeah, because it was a nightmare.” But Hilary’s mood was turning around. It did feel nice sitting at the table with him, the air humming with the rightness of it. Trenton was getting much better at eating with his left hand, his right always otherwise occupied. Still, it was hard to eat. Hilary just wanted to kiss him. They gave up after the first bowl, though he usually had at least three, and pulled Trenton toward the bedroom.

It wasn’t like the kissing was new. They did it a lot. Even making out like they were doing now. But it felt different. All those hours without each other had charged it with a kind of electricity that was making him feral. And the craziest part? Trenton wasn’t immune to it either.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded of his friend, thrilled beyond anything. “You’re all over me.”

Well, Hilary was just as all-over Trenton—if not worse—but that wasn’t the point.

“You could push me away,” Trenton suggested into his mouth. They weren’t drawing away enough to really have a conversation, their mouths together on every syllable.

“Why should I? I’m the one in love with you. Unless there’s something you’d like to confess?”

Trenton’s lips stretched a little as his smile widened. He was almost always smiling when they were kissing. “Be my best friend for life.”

“Friend, right. What friend can’t stop gargling his buddy’s tonsils?”

Trenton’s laugh filled his mouth. “Do not call it that.”

“Why not? We’re practically fucking.”

“It’s called skinship, and it’s healthy.”

“Just admit you’re in love.”

“Of course, I am. Hurry up and marry me.”

“Ha! As if I’d marry a deadbeat who abandoned me for eight hours.”

“It was only six. And anyway, you’re the one who suggested—”

“And you always listen to the ravings of crazy men, do you?”

Chapter Thirteen

Liquid Ass