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It's ridiculously cute how oblivious Josh is.
The sun's already starting to set, and you've passed about a dozen storefronts and restaurants plastered with paper hearts, yet you're almost positive he still has no idea what day it is. In his defense, this is probably the best date you've ever been on—you just didn't expect him to take you out for the first time on Valentine's Day.
You wonder when it'll finally hit him. If the gaudy decorations and love-struck couples everywhere haven't tipped him off by now, you're not sure he'll ever figure out. Are you perfectly capable of telling him yourself? For sure, but the last thing you want to do is freak him out or embarrass him.
Things are already comfortable between you, surprisingly so, and you'd rather not rock the boat. Not yet, at least. Besides, you're right in the middle of an important debate that could make or break your budding relationship, and you're totally winning.
"—in conclusion, it's physically impossible for Luigi to have a bigger dick than Mario. I rest my case."
Josh scoffs, shooting you a dubious look from his spot on the grass. Okay, maybe you're not winning. He takes a deep breath, shifting closer, and now you know you're in for it.
"There's no way. Have you ever seen Luigi in Smash? Super Mario Wonder? That thing flops all over the place, it's huge. You can barely even see Mario's crotch half the time, he's too close to the ground," he argues, eyebrows raised like he's already planning his next rebuttal. You raise an eyebrow in return.
"Wow. So, you're saying his dick has to be small because he's short?" you give him a pointed look. You're teasing him, rather than trying to make a point, and you both it.
He flushes a pretty pink, and you can see the cogs turning in his head. Part of you hopes he takes the bait and flirts back, but he doesn't—at first.
"Okay no, you're literally putting words in my mouth. I'm just saying, logically speaking, the height-to-dick ratio doesn't add up. Plus, I gave you actual proof. Your entire argument was based on vibes ," he laughs, and he's so endearing with his crinkled, hazel eyes and red-tinged ears that you almost concede.
But before you get the chance, his arms snake around your waist and drag you down next to him. The grass is cold and a little dewy from the mid-winter Los Angeles air, but you barely notice, distracted by how close his face suddenly is to yours.
At this proximity, you can count the faint freckles peppered across his nose and cheeks, and his lips quirk as if he can tell that's exactly what you're doing. His eyes drop to your mouth, and after a lingering moment, you realize he's leaning closer.
"You make a good point, though," he says unexpectedly. You struggle to remember what you were talking about in the first place, but he's quick to remind you. "I do know a pretty cool guy who's 5'5 and has a massive dick. So, maybe you were right after all."
"Oh yeah? Sounds like a winner—total Mario vibes," you reply cheekily, loving the turn this debate is taking. Perhaps a little too much. "Maybe I should've let that guy take me out on Valentine's Day instead."
It slips out before you can stop it, and for a second, his face goes blank. Then, he panics.
"Oh, shit." Josh jolts up, frantically scanning the park like he's just noticing that there's red and pink and couples on romantic picnics all around you. His shoulders droop in defeat. "Well, that's embarrassing," he mumbles.
Crap. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid all day. It had to come out at some point, sure, but you didn't mean for it to come out like that. You reach up to tug at his green flannel and pull him back down to lie with you on the grass.
"Why is it embarrassing?" you ask carefully, resting a comforting hand on his chest. He sighs.
"I would've done so much more if I'd known. I should've brought you flowers or chocolate— and chocolate, I should've done both," he says, sounding unfairly frustrated with himself. "I'm such an asshole. Who the fuck just forgets Valentine's Day?"
You, for starters. This is probably the first time in years you remembered what happens on February 14th, and that was just a fluke. It's just a day, one you're thoroughly enjoying not because it's some random holiday with way too many connotations, but because you get to spend it with him.
"Hey. You're not an asshole," you reassure him, cupping his cheek to snap him out of his spiral. He leans into your touch, finally meeting your eyes. "You didn't have to do any of that. I'm allergic to flowers and I'm not a huge fan of chocolate anyways, so that actually kind of makes you a hero. Major Mario vibes."
That makes him chuckle, and you laugh along with him. Thankfully, he looks as relieved as you feel. Taking that as the go-ahead to continue what he started earlier, you scooch closer.
"What if we just ignore what day it is and you can keep telling me all about that cool guy with the massive dick? I think he might honestly be my ticket to winning our debate," you joke, draping an arm over his shoulder.
You're face-to-face, all but pressed up against each other in the middle of a public park, but neither of you seems to care. Josh's eyes dart to your lips, and he nods, grinning as he leans in.
"Well, he has unclogged a toilet or two in his day, so he's basically a plumber. And princesses love him,” he says, teasing you, and you huff out a laugh.
"You are so fucking cheesy—"
He cuts you off with a kiss. Warm and a little chapped, his lips move slowly against yours as you both savor the moment you've been waiting for all day. It doesn't matter that it's Valentine's Day or that this is your first date. What matters is that it feels natural and comfortable, even in its newness. In your experience, that's pretty rare.
His fingers splay across your ribcage, and you sigh softly into his mouth as he pulls you flush against his body. It's so easy to forget where you are, lost in the increasing intensity of the kiss and his hands freely roaming your sides.
Before things can get too PG-13 for the park, you reluctantly pull away, opening your eyes to see him already smiling at you in contentment.
"Maybe we should go back to my place," you grin sheepishly, and the look he gives you is nothing short of suggestive. You roll your eyes. "Not like that ."
He raises an eyebrow, looking doubtful. "You sure this isn't just a ploy to verify the dick thing?"
You playfully shove his shoulder, but he retaliates by kissing you again.
"Josh, focus," you laugh, muffled by his lips. Jerking back, you attempt to recapture his attention while he tries and fails to chase you. "No, this isn't some elaborate ruse to get your pants off."
You don't bother mentioning that it's supposed to be his friend's dick, not his, but it's not like either of you are pretending you don't know exactly whose dick you're talking about. Plus, you already got your proof earlier when he kissed you. There's a reason you had to cut it short.
"It's just getting kind of late, and we probably won't find a place to eat around here that isn't already booked for the night," you tell him. At that, he looks a little downtrodden, clearly blaming himself for not making a reservation. "But—," you continue, hoping to cheer him up, "—I happen to make a mean spaghetti and meatballs, and Italian feels like it fits the vibe of this date."
His eyes light up, and you immediately know it was the perfect thing to say. This time when his lips meet yours, you melt into it, letting him bury his fingers in your hair as the kiss deepens. He coaxes your mouth open, and it becomes a sweet give-and-take that makes your head spin.
It ends way too quickly, but you can't find it in yourself to be disappointed when he pulls away. Not when he's looking at you like he can't believe you're real and in his arms right now.
"How the hell did I manage to get a date with you?" he asks earnestly. You shrug, burrowing further into his chest.
"I find your lack of temporal awareness and shitty takes on video game characters to be utterly charming," you reply with a straight face.
For a second, he looks stunned by your answer. Then, you both burst out laughing, and you're struck again by how easy it is to be with him. You've been on this date for almost six hours and still haven't run out of things to talk about.
It's the best date you've ever been on by far and might even be the best Valentine's Day you've ever had. You already know you're going to ask him for a second one once it's over, but the night is young. You still have a debate to win.
"Come on," you say, hit with a sudden burst of energy. You shift out of his grasp to stand, then hold out your hands to help him up. "I have a serious craving for spaghetti, and I'm so ready for you to officially concede defeat."
"Oh yeah? And why would I do that?" he raises an eyebrow, lacing his fingers through yours as you lead him in the direction of your apartment.
"Because I know for a fact you're concealing evidence and I'm gonna prove it."