Page 72 of Never Not Friends

I glance to the side, suddenly mesmerized by the industrial-sized tub of cottage cheese.

Vinny’s eyes drop back to the sour cream.

I lean back against the door and fold my arms over my chest.

“Are you cold?”

“It’s a refrigerator,” I say dryly.

“Yeah, but it could be worse.”

“How?”

“We could be locked in the freezer.” He grins, showcasing his dimple—dang, I’ve missed seeing it.

Sharp pain squeezes my heart, so I drop my eyes, trying to contain it. We fall into a weird silence. I shift my weight, very aware of the few inches he’s grown since he was mine.

“How long do you think we could survive in here?” His lips lift. “Living off of cheese and sour cream?”

“We have some yogurt too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you have all the strawberry banana.”

For the first time in forever, I smile back at him. “And I’ll let you have all the pepperjack cheese.”

It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, outwardly listing all the little details we know about each other.

“At least that test you took last winter to see if you were lactose intolerant came back negative, or you’d be screwed in here,” he says. “Although I still think you’re allergic to dairy.”

“I am not.”

He laughs. “You ate two bowls of ice cream at Blair’s New Year’s party last year and spent the rest of the night in the bathroom.”

“That happened once.”

“It happens every time you eat ice cream, Em. Next time you have a bowl in front of you, I’m pulling it away.”

This makes me laugh. “You’re the ice cream police now?”

“If that’s what it takes to keep you out of the bathroom for hours. Somebody has to keep an eye out for you.”

I grin, feeling the ease fall back into place. “I’ll just sneak it behind your back.”

His smile matches mine. “I know you will.”

Silence settles between us, broken only by the hum of the refrigeration.

“I’ve missed talking to you.”

I freeze, and it has nothing to do with the cool temperature.

“You have Juliet.” I shrug his words away.

“It’s not exactly the same thing.” He picks up a carton of sour cream and places it on the shelf. “But I get it.” He pauses for one second. “Actually, I don’t get it at all.”

My brows fold together. “What don’t you get?”

He turns his head and looks at me. “Us.”