We didn't.
"Seriously, your sister is one determined peacock," I said, glancing out of the Uber's window.
"A Peahen," Elliot corrected.
I turned my head to my right, my nose bunching. "What?"
"She's a peahen. Peacocks are male."
"Do you religiously watch David Attenborough in your spare time?"
"No."
"Then how do you know all this factual bullshit?"
He casually rested his elbow on top of the door trim. "Facts aren't bullshit."
Rolling my eyes, I whacked him on the arm. "ELLIOT! Just answer the bloody question."
"Fine. I like facts," he said with a shrug. "Always have."
"Is that why you became a solicitor?"
"Yep. Fact."
I smiled. "I always thought you were incredibly smart."
"I am."
"And obnoxious," I added.
He scoffed. "You're lying again."
"Nope." I shook my head with confidence. "Not this time."
"Yeah, you are. You never thought I was obnoxious, because I wasn't. You think it now, though, because I am … now."
What. The. Actual. Fuck? "What I think is that you easily give me a headache."
Light from a passing streetlamp flickered across his wide-open and excited ice blue eyes. "I know just the cure." He waggled them and then leaned forward in his seat to speak to the driver. "Can you pull over at the next corner, please? We'll get out there."
Noticing we weren't back at his apartment, I was curious as to what he was up to. "Where are we going?"
"To cure your headache … and get dessert."
"Oh!" I smiled. Dessert made me very happy. I loved dessert, all kinds of dessert. "Good. I was kinda bummed about missing it at the gala."
"I know. And I'm guessing even more so because cheesecake was on the menu."
The driver pulled to a stop, and I grabbed the door handle, opening it to get out. "Oh my God! Seriously, Lots, your memory is faultless."
"Oh, it's definitely faulty." He scooted out after me. "And anyway, how could I forget … you had cheesecake as your birthday cake every year that we were friends."
I shrugged as I stepped onto the pavement. "True. So … where are we going for sweets? The Cheesecake Shop?" I couldn't contain my excitement and bounced on my toes.
"No."
My bouncing stopped. "Aw."
"Stop pouting. It's better than that."
"It better be," I said, resuming my bouncing. "Because you got me all excited."
Stepping up beside me and threading his fingers through mine, he raised a smug eyebrow. "Don't speak in past tense just yet."
I couldn't help but smile, and again, just like at the gala, I should've stepped back, created some distance and reminded him that we no longer needed to pretend to an absent audience, but … I didn't, because his hand in mine felt harmless. Nice. Supposed to be.
Swallowing, I straightened my shoulders and tried to be clever. "I will speak in past until the past becomes present."
He chuckled. "The past cannot become present."
"Yes, it can."
"Nope." He tugged me along. "The past will always be the past."
"Damn it, Lots, stop confusing me."
"You're confusing yourself."
"Fine," I said, trying to free my hand. "If the past cannot become the present, then you can't excite me again." I lifted our hands and pointed at his chest. "Ha!"
He held on tighter and guided my fingers to his lips, brushing them with a kiss ever so slightly. "Of course I can. And I will."
"Oh my God!" I mumbled, "I take it back. You can excite me … multiple times." I dipped my spoon back into my Yogurtland cup and greedily shoved more New York Cheesecake flavoured yogurt into my mouth. "This is amazing!"
"Told you it was better than the gala cheesecake."
Swallowing, I craned my neck and peeked into his cup as we walked side-by-side. "What flavours did you get?"
"Red velvet, peanut butter, toffee pecan, annnnnd coconut."
"Shut up! There was toffee pecan? Damn it! I didn't see that."
"That's because you were too busy squealing over the cheesecake and cookie dough pieces."
"Can you blame me? They're the best yogurt toppings ever!" I shovelled in another spoonful, nearly smearing it onto my face when my heel caught a crack in the pavement, causing me to stumble before landing safely in Elliot's arms.