I spent a good chunk of yesterday making a vanilla slice to take to dinner at mr. Omoikiri’s friend’s house tonight. Cut it all up, arranged it back in the tray. As we were running out the door, I asked him to grab the slice that was on the kitchen bench while I grabbed his drinks and my bag. Got to the front door and he’s got the slice alright. He’s also got his switch and his volleyball and his keys chucked in top of it, squashing the custard out of half of them and ruining the icing on the others.

He’s lucky he’s so hot because it took every bit of my self control to not dump his ass right on the spot.