“I hope they will.” They fell into step, going up the hill. “And it doesn’t have to be raisin, though you may be doomed as regards food in general; I’m certain I’ve heard Jill call you a marshmallow at least once already. Would you prefer something Italian? Focaccia, perhaps? Or a bread with olives in? I’ve never tried an olive loaf. Do you like black or green? Unless you don’t like either. In which case I could think about walnuts.”
Jason stopped walking—nobody right next to them; good—and tugged Colby even closer. “Can I kiss you?”
Colby blinked at him, perplexed. “Because of the walnuts?”
“Because you’re f*****g adorable, and I like olives, and I like you.”
“You can’t possibly find me talking about olives adorable—”
Jason raised a finger.
Colby sighed. “That’s a rule, is it? No di
