He held my hand as we shuffled to the elevator and swept me close once we were inside. “Still ordering the whole room service menu?” he mumbled into my hair. “No,” I said, letting my head rest on his chest. “I’m not bothering with anything sensible. Just give me a bucket of fries.” I heard him rustling in his pocket and then the snap of a camera’s shutter. Another pic for the socials. He held it up for my approval. I gave a tired nod. “Will you share the fries?” The elevator came to a stop. Neither of us moved. “If you give me all the burnt and ugly fries.” “I always save those for you,” he
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