(MASON'S POV)
Lunch tasted like happiness and guilt all swirled together in one confusing bite.
The creamy tomato soup we'd made was so warm and rich, that it lingered on the tongue until everything felt a little softer. The grilled cheese on the side was perfectly crispy on the outside, with gooey cheese stretching into long, melty strings every time I pulled a piece apart. I chewed slowly, trying to focus on how good it all was, but my mind kept drifting back to the kitchen earlier.
I couldn't stop remembering how flour dusting Blue's nose like someone had painted him with happiness. The way he'd thrown his head back laughing when I accidentally spilled sauce down his shirt. How our hands had kept brushing on the wooden spoon while we stirred, sending these stupid little sparks racing up my arm every single time.
I caught myself grinning down into my bowl like an idiot, my cheeks warm, my heart doing that ridiculous fluttery thing it always did around him lately.
