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My jaw clenches. “Not if he somehow ends up disfigured.”
“Do you have to use violence for everything?”
“Not everything, no. Just whatever stands in my way.” I stroke her cheek. “Don’t be that, baby. All right?”
“I’m not scared of you.”
I let my lips stretch into a smirk as I see myself in her bright, determined eyes. It’s the only time I’ve looked forward to looking in a mirror. “That's what I like about you, my little rabbit.”
Her lips fall open in anOand then she closes them and reaches for her bag to retrieve a sandwich.
I snatch it out of her hand and push it to the side.
“Give it back,” she grumbles. “I’m hungry.”
“And this is junk.”
“Better than starving.”
“I knew you had trouble taking care of your physical needs. I bet you’re the type who stays up all night doing some passion project, sleeps two hours, then goes to class with dark circles.”
“How…the hell do you know that?” She narrows her eyes. “Are you psychic?”
“When it comes to you? Always.” I reach into my backpack and fetch the container I prepared early this morning and place it on her lap.
She looks at it expectantly. “Will I find a dead rat in this?”
“Shh. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“You’re not funny.”
“So you keep telling me, but I promise it’s not my intent to be. Now, open it.”
Her eyes turn to slits, but she slowly opens the container and pauses. I took extra care in making rice, shrimp, two types of salad and some eggs.
“Wow.” Her lips part. “You…made this?”
“Yeah. Look, I even did a smiley face with the vegetables on the rice.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter. “That’s a very creepy smile and looks more horror-esque.”
“At least I tried.” I pass her the utensils. “Now, eat.”
She takes a bite of the rice, doing her best not to ruin the smiley face, then she goes for the salad and the shrimp.
“This is so good. I didn’t have any homemade meals since my last visit home.”
“That’s because you’re shit at keeping up with your bodily needs.”
“Hey, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” She swallows a spoonful of rice. “Besides, you must’ve tortured your cook to make you this.”
“No, I actually did it myself.”
She chokes and I retrieve a bottle of water, uncap it, and give it to her. I pat her back as she drinks. “I know you’re touched, but you have to keep it together, baby.”
Glyndon finishes drinking and stares at me from beneath her lashes. “You…made this?”
“That’s what I said.”
