#Online•jdb

71• "Move in with me"

"So you think our anniversary should still be March 11th?" I swallowed down a lump of nervousness.

"I started talking to you March 5th, 2017; your 21st birthday. Almost a week later, you had figured out who I was and I had admitted it to you. That's why we picked the 11th - it was about the time we were talking together, no pretense, no fake personas - just us talking. I asked you to be my girlfriend March 29th. So, to me the date doesn't matter. What matters to me is that I have you. And I love you," he suppressed a cheeky grin as he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, "I just gave you a selection of dates so... your move, Windsor. When's our anniversary?" He smiled at me.

I stared at him in awe. I had no idea how much attention to detail he had about the specific origins of our relationship. God, he must really love me more than I'll ever wholly comprehend.

"In that case, our yearly anniversary can be the 29th of March," I smiled, "so what if our 6 months was prematurely celebrated. It's the yearly ones that count," my mind whizzed back to high school and how I used to bitterly roll my eyes at the couple's who'd celebrate every month as an anniversary. In my defense, high school relationships are hardly ever "forever". But I do understand the want to celebrate your love every chance you can; I understand it now.

"29th it is," he reached his hands over the counter and held my hands.

"Wow. March is pretty busy, huh. Your birthday, my birthday and our anniversary," I giggled, "we're gonna be tired as hell by April Fool's Day."

"Ooh, my first April Fool's with you. I better get planning," he grinned devilishly.

"Hey, no. No pranks. Besides we have to get through your birthday, my birthday, our anniversary and... Valentine's Day... first," I peered up at him as I nibbled on my bottom lip.

"Are you trying to get information out of me? Baby, you know I don't give away surprise secrets. Valentine's Day is close and that's all I'm gonna say," he nodded once, as a sign of putting his concluding seal on the topic.

"Okay fine," I surrendered and returned to my waffle making, "Sam should be here any minute."

"I'll be in the bedroom when that happens; give you a chance to catch up," Justin grabbed one of the freshly-made waffles and started piling on combined toppings.

"Oh okay, thanks. I honestly have no idea what she needs to talk about but it's gonna be good to see her in our apartment," the last part was a light joke; I knew exactly why she wasn't in hers and my apartment lately.

"You think it's something serious?" Justin asked before licking residual chocolate syrup from his fingers.

"I think so. She sounded pretty serious. Just can't think of anything it could be," I said.

"I'm sure it's not something to stress about," he said.

I didn't respond. Instead, I focused on churning out more waffles. Working in the kitchen is often torturous when you're the chef. You're surrounded by mouthwatering smells but can't fully enjoy your culinary creations until it's all completed.

The front door's lock rattled before it swung open. Sam trudged inside, holding her keys, before shutting the door behind her. She cornered the dividing wall and stopped beside Justin.

"Hey," she peeped up.

"Hey," I smiled at her.

"Hey, Sam," Justin gave her a hug before forking a few waffles onto his plate and sliding off his stool, "it's good to see you, but I've got a date with Netflix. Give my best to Dean?"

"Of course," she said.

"Thank you," Justin grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and walked out the kitchen with his plate topped with hot waffles.