it was a lazy sunday afternoon. the kind where time feels syrupy and neither of you wanted to do anything productive. the playlist you made for days like this played softly in the background while the kitchen smelled like well.. something

“renee babe youre gonna regret not trying this” you said proudly, standing over the counter with a tortilla in one hand with peanut butter, hot sauce, and a single dill pickle slice carefully folded inside

she stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and lips curled into a dramatic grimace that made you snort

she looked like youd committed a crime against humanity

“do you hate yourself?” she asked, leaning back like the plate might jump at her “thats actually disgusting. i mean.. what even is that? who wakes up and thinks 'yeah, pickles and hot sauce belong together'?”

you took a giant bite, chewing exaggeratedly “my tastebuds are evolving renee. you wouldnt get it”

“i wont get it. i refuse to get it. i want nothing to do with that abomination. youre on your own”

you held the plate out toward her like it was sacred “just one bite. one little bite. for science”

she looked at you then the wrap then back at you “i love you but not that much.”

you grinned, walking over and bumping your shoulder against hers “youre lucky youre cute”

she raised a brow, lips twitching “youre lucky i dont call the cops”