After I've walked around the perimeter of Dres's house extensively, gone through all his things, and picked a Smiths album to play on his record machine, I return to the kitchen to bother him.

     I sit down at the island and watch him cook. "What're we making, Chef?" I ask playfully, nose picking up the fine scent of bacon. Bacon is always the way to go. He could make amouse-bouche for all I care. As long as there's bacon, I'm satisfied.

     "A dirty dog," Dres answers, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

     "Aw, don't say that about Charlie. He's right there, he can hear you." Dres fakes a laugh. I ignore him. It turns out a dirty dog is a hotdog wrapped in bacon. Dres serves it with a side of air-fried slice potatoes. It's a good compromise on healthy and late night cravings. My tastebuds are certainly satisfied.

     While I eat my dirty dogs, Dres bakes the promised cupcakes. He refuses to tell me what kind he's making for me so I'm stuck watching and trying to put it together based on the ingredients. 

     It's nearing one in the morning when he finally sets the cupcake down on a plate in front of me. I'm back in my spot at the island, with my head resting on my folded arms. I don't know how I feel about Dres staying up to bake me my own cupcake but I've decided not to think about it right now.

     Dres slides a fork my way. "You get to try it before I bring it to the store Monday."

     "Oh, shit, I'm your personal taste tester? This is exciting. Alright, okay, let me give you my expert culinary opinion." I school my facial expression to neutral as I look up at Dres. My fork's poised above the cupcake, and I take a moment for dramatic effect.

     "Seriously," Dres deadpans as he reaches for the plate. "I'm going to throw it out if you don't just take a bite."

     "Alright, alright. God, I was preparing my palate. I'm nervous. This is my first cupcake of yours. What if I hate it? Could be a deal breaker, Dres."

     Dres rolls his eyes and I don't know if he's doubting that I could dislike his cupcakes or that me disliking them would be a deal breaker. I mean, it clearly would never be but he can pretend my threat lands. My fork goes in easily, the cake's still warm and moist, and my mouth starts to water at the sight. I bring it to my mouth slowly, and Dres glares at me like he's a second away from choke slamming me into the countertop. I could be down for being choke slammed by Dres.

     I swallow the first bite way too quickly, not savoring it, and have to go in for a second before I moan and say, "This is freaking declious. What in the actual world allows you to exist?" I ditch teh fork and slam the whole thing into my mouth. Dres looks at me absolutely aghast. With my mouth full I say, "I wuv it."

   After I swallow the last of what's in my mouth, I realize what I've just eaten. "Wait a minute. Wait a gosh darn minutes. Is this the apple cider cinnamon brown sugar rum extra sugar carry the one with an atomic isotomer cupcake I suggested?"

     Dres balks at me. I grin. "It is, isn't it?"

     "It is a regular apple cider cupcake, yes," he says, totally downplaying it.

     I am elated. "You actually made the cupcake! And you're bringing it to the store Monday? This is crazy. Name it the Cas. Please name it the Cas. Call it the Cas's Smooth Cider Cupcake."

     "Why smooth?" Dres asks.

     "Because I'm obviously very smooth. I managed to win you over."

     Dres eyes me skeptically. "Have you?"

     "I mean," I say coyly. "I've had many a gracious welcomings into people's homes. But none quite like yours."

     He rolls his eyes. "Alright."

    "I'm just saying... Seemed like somebody missed this hot rockin bod."

     I look down at my empty plate frowning. "Wow I'm mad I ate that so fast. Like I wish I could redo that whole experience." I pause and then wink at Dres. "Starting from when I entered your house, obviously."

     "Now you're just flattering me."

     This time I roll my eyes. "I'm always flattering you. But seriously, that was the best thing I've ever put in my mouth and I've put lots of things in my mouth."

     Dres laughs at that, shaking his head. He leans across the island towards me and I go still. He wipes his thumb along the corner of my mouth, keeping his eyes locked on mine and below the table top there's a stirring between my legs.

     I groan. "I'm too tired for you do to stuff like that it makes me want to do things to you."

     "Do things to me?"

     I roll my eyes. "Yes, awful terrible delicious amazing things that require more energy than I'm currently running on."

     Dres quirks an eyebrow. "So let's go to bed?"

     "Ugh, I thought you'd never ask."

     I get up from the island while Dres takes my plate and glass and head for the front door where my bag and mask were discarded rather hastily earlier. "Where's your bathroom?" I ask as I come back into the kitchen, duffle bag in hand. "And do you have toothpaste? I left mine."

     "You can use the upstairs bathroom."

     There's a narrow staircase off of the living room portion of the room. The steps have gaps between them so it looks like they're floating and there's a metal banister that resembles piping. I take the stairs two at a time, excited to invade Dres's personal space even further. This is where he sleeps. Maybe he props pillows up and reads late into the night. Maybe he does push-ups right here beside the bed. I don't have the capacity to think about what other intimate things occur between these sheets.

     "I would hardly call this upstairs," I say as I step into Dres's bedroom. It's literally a balcony. I drop my bag and walk over to the short wall, looking down at the kitchen and living room. "This is the strangest yet coolest thing."

     "Bathroom?" he asks, holding the door open for me. I nod, retrieving my toothbrush and face wash from my bag before joining him.

     We're both standing in front of the mirror, brushing our teeth, when I look up from spitting and notice not one, but three fat hickeys on my neck.

     "Dres," I scream, causing him to jump and nearly drop his toothbrush. It hangs from his mouth lopsided while he looks at me like I was just possessed. "You dick," I say moving to kick him.

     He dodges my attempt, pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth so he can say, "What?"

     "You gave me three hickeys man!"

     He spits and then rinses his mouth. "Where?"

     "What do you mean where?" I say, flailing wildly. I turn my head, baring my neck to him. "They're everywhere, dracula."

     Dres's hand is on my neck, turning my jaw thoughtfully. "Eh, you can barely see them."

     I am so shocked, I can't even speak, turning my head to look at him. It's then I realize. "You like it. You did this on purpose."

     "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says as he starts washing his face, tone casual, business as usual. I raise both my eyebrows at him. "They'll fade," he says finally, his face lathered in a layer of soap.

     "They'll fade?" I exclaim. "I freaking hate you. This is such a fifty shades move, you don't even know."

     He meets my eyes in the mirror and he freaking smiles, the asshole.

     I return to the room before Dres. He has a whole face routine he has to go through with a litany of products. It honestly explains his flawless complexion. Meanwhile, I've been using the same Cetaphil face wash for years now.

     I change while I'm waiting into sweatpants and a tee shirt before climbing onto his bed. "Is there a side you sleep on?" I call to him.

     "Left," Dres says as he walks out of the bathroom, sans shirt. I pause in my maneuvering around his bed to stare. Ogle. Make a mental copy of this. "Alright," he says dryly. "You don't need to act all star struck."

     "I am star struck. I'm beyond star struck. I feel like I've just been catapulted into another dimension, because how are you real?"

     Dres is blushing, turning away from me as if I didn't already fully notice and add it to the list of responses I enjoy pulling from him. There's a large skull tattoo that covers most of his back. It doesn't take away from the fact his back is all muscle, rippling tendons that pull taut as he bends to slide his sweatpants off. His hamstrings make a delicious show of themselves and I'm getting hard at the sight

     "Well that just made it worse," I say flatly, feeling like my lungs just deflated. I'm lightheaded and overwhelmed by how beautiful Dres is. He is a walking Sistine Chapel with delicate and highly detailed designs down the backs of his calves.

     I crawl over to the edge of the bed to get a better look. "Is that Frida Kahlo on your knee?" I pause as Dres nods. "Who's that in her forehead?"

     "Her husband," he answers as he pulls on some black pajama pants. He walks over to the bed slowly and I should probably move back to my side but I don't, staring at his chest as his muscles contract with each step.

      He waits, his expression amused until I finally come to, muttering, "Shut up," as I crawl back across the bed.

     "I didn't say anything," he responds faux-innocently as he slides into bed. Dres reaches over and shuts off the light on his nightstand.

     I push the covers down and get underneath them. Dres does the same. There's this moment, more than a moment really, where I realize that I don't know how to sleep next to someone. I am all too conscious of Dres beside me, radiating heat like a car engine. I can't remember how I even like to sleep, though I'm certain it's not on my back.

      I remember now. I sleep on my side. Fuck, the side I sleep on would have me facing Dres. Can I face him? Is that weird?

     "Just move already," he says breaking the silence.

     "What?" I respond, disoriented by being in complete darkness with Dres.

     "You're uncomfortable and tense. I can feel it coming off of you in waves."

     "How would you know I'm uncomfortable? Maybe I'm super relaxed right now."

      "You're not. I can tell."

     "Yeah how?"

     "Because you project."

     "Okay that's the second time you've said that about me. What does that even mean?"

     Dres sighs loudly. Or maybe it seems louder now that we're in the dark. "It means I'd like to go to bed so however you normally sleep put yourself in that position."

     I huff at him. "That's not really an answer to my question," I say as I roll onto my side so I'm facing him. He's right there when I do, eyes wide open like he knew that was the way I was going to roll. The only thing I can make out in the darkness is the glint of metal in his nose, and his bright eyes.

      I reach out with muscle memory and touch his shoulder, bringing my fingers down till I catch on this swollen knot of flesh. "What happened?" I ask quietly, even though I think I already know. This is the second time I've noticed the scar and it's the only thing that makes sense.

      "I was shot," Dres says slowly. "And don't start freaking out. It's not a big deal."

     Because he's suggested it, that's exactly what I'm doing now. I bite back any of the things I could say right now to let him know just how big of a deal it is. He was shot. I'd never met anybody who'd been shot before. I close my eyes, trying to imagine the scenario. My brain draws up a blank. All I know about war is what I've seen in movies.

      "It's crazy," I whisper, finally, opening my eyes again.

     Dres asks quietly, "What is?"

      "To think that you lived this whole life I'll never understand."

     This silences Dres. I wait. When he speaks next, his voice is strained, like he's fighting to hold back his feelings. "You don't want to understand it."

     That's what he says but somehow all I can hear is I don't want you to understand it. Which sounds a lot like I don't want you to understand me. 

     I wake alone in bed. I can tell it's still early, too early for me to be awake. Light is filtering in from between the shades on the windows, igniting the room in a soft glow. I'm only up because the scent of food has roused me. Part of me wants to roll over and go back to sleep. Dres's bed is incredibly comfortable, smells intoxicatingly of him, and I was having a good dream.

     But the food. It smells so good, I'm salivating into Dres's pillow.

     I climb out of bed slowly, stretching my arms and flexing my toes before I walk over to the ledge and look down. Dres is at the island, still shirtless, whisking eggs, looking bedraggled and sexy as frick. I do my best street whistle and he looks up, surprised.

     "Should've known it'd be the smell of food that'd wake you from that coma you call sleep."

     "Funny guy," I say with a roll of my eyes.

     "You slept through their barking." He points with the whisk to Delta and Charlie who are nose deep in their breakfast. "That's some kind of talent."

     "Yeah, you know most of my talents do tend to fall in the bedroom," I say with a grin.

     "Are you coming down?" Dres ignores my comment. What else is new?

     "Probably not. I like the view."

     Dres shakes his head as he turns to the stove and pours the eggs into a frying pan. "You're frisky this morning." His words make me laugh. Nobody's ever called me frisky before. I don't think I've ever even heard someone use the word.

      He's scrambling the eggs with a wooden spoon as he says, "So I've got shipments coming to the store today that I need to be there for. I can drop you off when I head in?"

     I shake my head. "I'll come in with you. I've got hours to make up on."

     "If you insist," Dres says and it kinda sounds like he wants me to insist.

     "Oh, I absolutely do." Even from a distance, I can see the little quirk in Dres's lips as he smiles down at the frying pan. I don't say it, but I think, I hope, that we never change. That it'll always be like this between us.