Best Friend's Ex Box Set

“No, I’m actually making pancakes,” I said happily. “One of my favorites, especially after… well, a good workout.”

“That, we did have,” he said, kissing my neck.

“I just wished that I had some apples, so I could make some apple pancakes,” I said with a sigh. “They are one of my favorite things in the world. My father, before he left, would make them for me every Saturday morning when I was young. He would turn them into funny shapes and then sit with me and eat them. It’s one of the few good memories that I have of him. I just remember feeling happy and content when I smelled that apple smell. It meant my mother was out and there would be no bickering and fighting, just me and my father.”

“Well, they sound absolutely divine,” he said, smiling. “And I promise you from the bottom of my heart, I will go through hell or high water, travel a thousand seas, kill the biggest giant, to find you some apples. You, my dear, may have whatever you like in this world.”

I laughed, turning and watching him walk off around the counter with his arms in the air. He was quite the showman and extremely sarcastic. He got me giggling so badly I could barely say a word to him.

“The world is your oyster,” he continued, his arms in the air. “There is more than one way to skin a cat. A bird in the hand is as good as two in the bush…or something like that.”

“Okay, okay.” I laughed, flipping the pancake. “You know, you aren’t my servant any longer.”

“Oh,” he said, dropping his arms. “Well, it was definitely good while it lasted. In fact, I was thinking of implementing at least one day a month where this servant thing takes effect. Actually, I was thinking we could swap off. I don’t know how many varieties there are of that boxed meal thing I made.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Keep dreaming, but what I will do is come over and cook your dinner. You just have to be the one to do the dishes.”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s a tough one. I hate doing dishes.”

“I’ll throw in a massage,” I said, flipping the pancake and smiling.

“You twisted my arm; done,” he said, slapping his hand on the counter.

We both burst into laughter, looking around the room at the fruit that was in the kitchen. He pretty much had everything but apples, which was odd, and I made sure to make fun of him for it. I plated the pancakes, and we sat down at the breakfast bar to eat.

“Okay, I have to figure out how to get the apples,” I said, taking a bite. “It’s going to haunt me if I don’t.”

“I mean, they do make these things called grocery stores, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen little round, red balls that resembled apples in their produce section,” he replied sarcastically.

“No, no,” I said, shaking my head and sighing. “You can’t make apple pancakes with an apple grown in Malesia.”

“I don’t think they grow apples in Malesia.” He laughed. “In fact, I don’t think Malesia is a real place.”

I shook my head. “It’s real, although I’m not sure if they grow apples there. But you know what I mean.”

“No, I think I’m missing this one,” he replied, looking at me.

“We need fresh apples,” I said, exasperated. “Like pick them from the tree, fresh.”

“Well, it is apple-picking season,” he said.

“Oh, I know,” I said excitedly. “There is an apple orchard about an hour away. We could go!”

“Perfect,” he replied. “It’ll be good to get out of town anyway.”

We finished up our pancakes, and Ollie got ready while I collected my things and waited for him. As I sat there by the door, I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how amazing of a night it had been. On top of that, we were getting ready to do something that was actually normal. An actual date where we would walk hand in hand and pick apples together, just like I always wanted.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling myself from my thoughts and smiling as he grabbed his jacket and walked with me out the door.

We jumped into his car and headed over to my place, so I could change out of his boxers and t-shirt. I looked like I was doing a serious walk of shame, smiling at the neighbor as I hurried inside the house. Ollie waved awkwardly and meandered inside, closing the door and smiling.

“Not a word,” I said, pointing at him. “Now, I’m gonna go change. If you want some coffee, there’s a Keurig in the kitchen.”

“Got it,” he said, folding his lips in and sticking his hands in his pockets.

I went upstairs and jumped in the shower, trying to get the oil and sweat out of my hair. When I was done, I pulled it up into a messy bun and threw on a pair of jeans, a gray fitted t-shirt, and a black jacket before jogging back down the stairs. When I got down there, Ollie was standing with two travel mugs of coffee and a smile, waiting for me to be done.