"You've never had a s'more?" Christine shrieked. Her boyfriend shook his head.
"I've never felt the need. They don't seem that appealing," he said and Christine balked at him.
"Not that good," she scoffed, standing up and hurrying into the kitchen. She found the graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate, and a large set of cooking chopsticks Erik occasionally used. She gathered the supplies and went back to the living room.
She sat down in front of the fire before setting up the crackers and chocolate. Erik watched over the top of his book as she stabbed one of the marshmallows with a chopstick.
"For me, this is like when I told you I had never listened to Holst," she said. "Remember how that made you feel?"
She stuck the marshmallow into the fire, spinning it slowly above the hot coals.
"The two cannot be comparable," he sniffed and she gave him a look.
"Well, I love Holst now. Sometimes we just have to try new things. Come sit by me."
He didn't wait for her to ask again. He sat down and Christine immediately leaned against him. Despite the heat of the fire on her face, she shivered as his fingers massaged her scalp.
"Your marshmallow's on fire," he stated calmly.
"So it is," she muttered, reluctantly pulling away to blow it out. She assembled the s'more and handed it to him, looking at him expectantly. He examined it for a moment with a skeptical gaze before taking a reluctant bite. His eyes widened and Christine smiled triumphantly as he quickly devoured it.
"I knew you would like it," she said, her eyes gleaming.
"If wasn't that good," Erik insisted, licking a bit of melted marshmallow off his thumb. She rolled her eyes as he grabbed the chopstick and stabbed another marshmallow on it.
