Page 25 of Punchline

“Whoa.” He stared at it with an expression full of comical awe. “That’s… ”

“You sure you don’t want to get the bougie nachos instead?” Carson held up a chip with a solid inch of toppings on it. “Leave the peasant version to us?”

“Fuck the bougie ones.” Jake plucked a chip from the pile and scooped up some of the toppings. “Peasant nachos, all the way.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.” Marek held up a chip that was dangerously close to snapping beneath the weight of everything on it. “Put it in your mouth before you rate it.”

“That’s what she said,” Carson and I both muttered.

Jake had, in fact, been putting the chip in his mouth at that moment, and he very nearly spat it all over the railing. And quite possibly the people below us. He managed to just choke on it, though, and he covered his mouth as he reached for his drink.

“You all right?” I asked, fighting back a grin.

He nodded, then took a swig of beer.

“What?” Carson asked. “Was it something we said?”

Jake flipped him off.

I snickered, and Jake shot me a wicked grin, which…

Oh, fuck me. He was so damn cute.

And I was staring at him like a fucking dumbass.

I cleared my throat and reached for the nachos again… at the same moment he did. We didn’t grab the same chip and have some Lady-and-the-Tramp-but-with-nachos moment, which was oddly disappointing but also a huge relief. We didn’t even brush fingers, thank God.

But because I was a train wreck tonight, and because a particular jalapeno that I wanted was stubbornly refusing tolet go of the cheese, I couldn’t quite get it onto my chip. So Jake used his chip and nudged it onto mine.

I glanced at him. “Thanks.”

That smile…

Oh God.

I’m so stupid.

But it feels really good, so fuck it.

Jake ate some more nachos, and he glanced at Carson. “Okay. I’m sold. These are awesome.” He pushed another chip into the mountain of stuff. “Cheap nachos, for the win.”

Carson guffawed. “Cheap?You think these werecheap?”

Marek and I both laughed too.

“They may not be bougie,” Marek said, pausing to lick some sour cream off his finger, “but nothing in this building is cheap.”

“Nothing except your boyfriend, right?” Jake threw back.

Carson elbowed him hard.

Marek just laughed dryly and rolled his eyes. “Says the man who’s never paid for one of his GrubHub orders.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Carson muttered.

Marek grinned and adopted an exaggeratedly flirty tone. “Not here, baby. We’ll lose our owners’ box privileges.”

I didn’t hear Carson’s response because Jake and I both burst out laughing. Another middle finger flew, but I didn’t mind. I was too busy being a complete dork over the way Jake’s smile made the whole arena brighter. Was I even going to make it through this whole hockey game before I made an ass of myself?