I take a bite, eyes fluttering shut for half a second — sweet, warm, buttery. Almost sinful. It melts on my tongue and I swear I could cry.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I mumble through a smile, hiding behind the waffle like it’s a secret. “I haven’t had anything this good in months.”

The cold air nips at my cheeks, but the moment feels warm. Real. No cameras, no rehearsals, no lectures about carbs or sugar or calories. Just this flaky little miracle and you standing there, laughing at how dramatic I am.

I glare at you playfully. “Say one word and I’ll eat yours too.”