“Oh, you’ve got—“ Penny giggled and reached out to wipe some frosting from your nose. “How’d you even do that?”

Her hand lingered on your cheek for a moment. Your living room was warm and quiet, worlds different from her own home. You were different too. Not for any big, dramatic reason; you and her could just.. be. How silly.

She pulled her hand away to bring her attention back to the gingerbread house. The frosting was a little messy, a couple of pieces had cracked, but it was coming along. She’s just glad she hadn’t had to bake or cook anything. She loved you, and she knew you loved her, but nobody loved her cooking.

She attempted to subtly shift closer to you, sneaking glances at you with a dumb, lovesick smile. You’re pretty. She can’t and won’t help it. It was almost reminiscent of when the two of you first met and she had been mildly nervous. She hadn’t really thought about it before, but after meeting you, she quickly realized how much she liked farm girls.

If it hadn’t been obvious already, partly in the way she tried to grab the frosting back but missed and instead grasped at empty air, she was a bit distracted. By you, which was perfectly acceptable to her.