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Dan’s probably lost count of how many times he’s seen you jump onto the counter to reach something. Well, you can’t help it if you haven’t been blessed with those few centimeters that would’ve made your life a hell of a lot easier.
Grab onto the counter for support, up goes one knee onto the surface, then the other, and you jump up. You’ve got this. You’ve had a lot of practice. And as usual, while you complete this daily routine, you can’t help but wonder why they had to build the cabinets so high up.
Fuck them (whoever they are).
You pause when you hear a snort of laughter. You scowl for a second before turning your head to your boyfriend who’s doubled over in laughter instead of helping you.
What a dick, you think as you clamber down from your position on the counter, glaring all the while.
“I wouldn’t have to do this if someone decided to help me sometimes,” you squint up at him as he comes closer to you.
He looks down and smiles with those damn dimples.
“Why would I help you when it’s so entertaining to watch you struggle?” He beams down at you, and your mouth twitches.
“Watch it, Smith,” you order. “Or you’ll be sleeping outside with the doormat.”
He pouts, and you quickly cast your eyes downward to escape those eyes. The kicked puppy look, one of his favorites. Instead you stare at his chest, which is what you see when you stare directly forward.
You feel his arms wrap around your waist and you instinctively tip-toe to clasp your arms around his neck. Weren’t you just mad at him?
Whatever. He’s too cute to be mad at.
The next time Dan sees you struggling to get something off the highest shelves, he helps you, though not without laughing to himself.
And you laugh a bit too.