“Want some?”



Waving the pink box in front of her face, you drop your backpack onto the floor and plop down beside her on the couch. You smile in content as you munch happily on the delicious treat in your mouth –whoever invented Pocky is a genius, plain and simple. The unexpected addition of your weight jostles her slightly, causing her to almost drop her book in surprise. An exasperated expression flashes across her face as she looks up at you.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly as you take another piece of Pocky from the box. “So…want one?” You wave the strawberry-flavoured snack in front of her face. “It’s really good.”

She gently pushes your hand away. “No thank you,” she replies, her eyes not straying from the page she’s currently on.

You scoff in indignation, not fully understanding how someone could just casually reject such an offering. It’s an insult really, an insult to delicious foods everywhere! “Are you sure? It’s reaaaaallly good.”

A dismissive hand wave and the turning of a page is the only reply you receive.

A long and overly dramatic groan escapes your lips.

“Fiiiiiiiine. Suit yourself.”

Throwing the now empty box onto the table, which earns a sound of disapproval from the-hater-of-delicious-snacks, you lean back into the couch and stick the rejected piece of Pocky - uncoated side first –between your lips. Clearly she lacked the same refined taste that you have when it came to food.

Using your tongue, teeth and lips in perfect unison to pull the treat into your mouth, you reach over for the remote control sitting on the table. Perhaps you could pass the time watching some mindless drivel on the TV.

So engrossed with your task of finding something suitable to watch –Oh maybe your show is on –you barely notice the slight shifting of the couch beside you. The feel of her finger tips on your cheek and the ghosting of her lips against yours is the only warning you get before you realize the remaining piece of Pocky is missing from between your lips.

The blood rushes to your face and you feel your cheeks begin to heat up.

She settles back in her seat, one leg crossed delicately over the other as she continues to read her book, acting as if nothing had happened. The only small difference now being the smug smile on her lips, her eyes twinkling with mirth, as she flips a page.

“D-did you just…” You sputter as you regain your bearings. Thief! How dare she t-take…uh…

The sight of her tongue poking out and licking her lips all but causes your brain to short circuit. Jesus Christ is it just you or did the room suddenly get warmer?

Goddamn it, control your hormones!

“Hm…strawberry is good,” her voice breaks you out of your trance, “but I’m more partial to chocolate myself.” She peers at you, her shoulders shaking with barely constrained laughter, no doubt amused by your flustered state.

As the flush recedes from your face, you laugh lightly and reach over to your backpack beside the couch. “Well, lucky for us I always come prepared.” Sitting back up you show her the familiar red box now clasped in your hand.

“So…” You rip open the box, take out a piece and stick it between your lips. “Want some?”

You smile cheekily.

The sly smile, the closing of her book and her crawling onto your lap are the only answers you need.