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I glance at the list on his phone and then the cart. “Yup. See, I knew you could do it.”
“So what’s my prize?” He stares back at me while pulling the front of the cart with him to the register.
“You get to spend the rest of the day with me.” I smile wide and help him set everything on the belt.
“Sounds more like a punishment rather than a reward.” He quirks a brow.
I toss the last item in the cart at him and he ducks, causing the brown sugar to land on the floor. In a fit of laughter, I pay and we both grab the bags while shooting apologetic looks at the cashier. The car is further away from the crafting store so we toss the bags into the shopping cart and take everything with us inside.
Theo points out a few things my mom would like and we split the cost for all her gifts at check out. We have bags hanging off our wrists and arms. I’m surprised we are able to make it to the car with all the extra weight and plastic threatening to cut off our circulation.
“You still up for ice cream,” I ask, tossing everything in the trunk. He places his bags beside mine and glances down at his feet. “I’m not sure my feet can take anymore abuse.”
I laugh and wrap my arm around him while closing the trunk. “We can always drive there.”
“I have a few tubs of unopened ice cream at home.”
“Then home we’ll go.”
He sinks against me in relief. “Good because if we go one more place, I might need a nap before putting all these new ingredients to good use.”
“You’re such an old man.”
He slaps his hand against my shoulder. “Watch it. I might leave you here and enjoy all that ice cream by myself.”
“You and I both know you’ll enjoy it a lot more when it’s coming from my bowl.”
We both get in the car and I scroll through my playlist. He eyes me curiously as I carefully choose a song.
“Didn’t I say I wanted to drive in silence?”
“You said on the way here,” I remind him. “You didn’t say anything about wanting to ride back home in silence.”
He folds his arms, sneering at me. I hit Play and pull onto the road with a huge smile playing on my lips. The beginning of “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys plays and he curls his lip in annoyance. “Seriously?”
“What?” I ask while turning up the volume.
When I start singing along with the lyrics he looks like he wants to strangle me, and all it does is make me want to sing louder.
“Why must you torture me?” he yells, covering his ears, his smile not matching the fake aggravation in his tone.
“Because, I want it that way.”
Six
Theo
One hour of being home and I still can’t get that damn Backstreet Boys song out of my head. Occasionally while mixing ingredients, I catch myself humming the beat to “I Want It That Way” and Finn snickers while rolling out the cookie dough.
“I hate you,” I grumble.
“No you don’t.” His playful smirk is a lot cuter than it has any damn right being. His curly hair hangs over his forehead, almost touching his sparkling green eyes while he shapes the dough into perfect round circles and places them on two pans. “Do these meet your standards?” The playfulness is evident in his voice.
“Si. They are actually better looking than mine. How did you manage that?”
“I guess it’s what happens when I’m in such good company.”
I scoff. “Yeah sure. You can be such a kiss ass sometimes.”
