Holding onto the door frame for a moment and resting against it, she studied him carefully like an appraiser would a work of art, noting the subtle changes both in appearance and personality. Being in New York had given him a few new layers she hadn’t noticed before and was appreciating. His stutter seemed to be improving, not that she found anything wrong with it before.
Accepting his invitation as she made her way over to him she was careful not to sit on either of their dogs as she plopped herself down next to him, cuddling into his side and tucking her legs underneath her.
“I w-was getting dinner r-ready for you too..” she admitted softly, the food still cooking in the oven – a delicious meal of lasagna. She had found the recipe online and wanted to see if she could make it. “Unless you want to nap.” Looking up from her spot snuggled on his chest, she cocked her head to the side.
That was another thing Jack had missed: meals together. His manager in New York had insisted on dragging him to various high-end restaurants, and parties at the gallery had usually involved drinks and nibbling various things on toothpicks. But he hadn’t really known any of the people there, and the atmosphere had somehow left him feeling both like he didn’t belong and like he was the focus of everyone’s attention.
“I’m not th-that tired,” he said, shifting on the couch so they could lie down together. “I’ve missed having dinner with you. And I didn’t t-trust the food on the plane,” he added, with a small chuckle. “I’ll rest later.”
Glad she had called in sick for work after his text and just wishing to spend some well deserved time with him, Katelynn rested her palms upon his chest and adjusted herself when he moved to continue cuddling into him. How her heart was leaping for joy at this simple contact and how content she was to just lay with him though she knew there was much to talk about. She just didn’t want to hit him with everything at once – not all of it was pleasant after all.
“Poor thing…I’m not sure..you can trust my c-cooking either,” she joked, turning her head to rest her chin upon his form to try to stare into his eyes. “It might be just as bad as plane food.”
Without really thinking about what he was doing, Jack tilted his head forward and nudged his brow gently against Katelynn’s, nuzzling her softly. “Y-you made it, Katelynn,” he said. “That’s enough to m-make it good. And I really, really doubt it c-could be as bad as the st-stuff on the plane,” he added, remembering the tin of mysterious, vaguely plastic-like substance smeared in green and orange slime. The other passengers seemed to have thought it tasted okay, but Jack had decided not to risk it.
With the meal still cooking, there wasn’t any real need for them to move yet. So they stayed snuggled on the couch for a while longer, until the oven dinged.
Jack Maple 