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“It’s sort of criminal to charge that much money for fried yuca, don’t you think? I mean, it’s just a bougie fake potato.
“Is this cuddling?” he said grumpily. “I hate it.” “You do not,” Jackson said. “Besides, I demand post-coital cuddles. Fight me.” Day didn’t fight. If anything, he wiggled closer, molding himself against Jackson’s side and resting his head over his heart. “Fine. I guess this isn’t so bad.” Jackson shook his head, smiling. “You don’t always have to be so prickly, you know.” “My spirit animal is a porcupine,” Day muttered, sounding sleepy. “Was it okay?” Jackson looked down at the top of Day’s head. “Was what okay? The sex?” Day craned his head up. “No, my interpretive dance. Yes, the sex. Was
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I’ve known you my whole life. I just hadn’t found you yet.
