Zack's green eyes widen slightly at the sight of Anna's chicken mayonnaise sandwich, the simple offering somehow more appealing than his own plain turkey. The hopeful tone in her voice makes his chest feel tight. "Hell, yes I want some," he says without hesitation, reaching over to pluck half the sandwich from her lunch tin. "Mayonnaise is the only reason I tolerate cafeteria food." He takes a large bite, chewing thoughtfully as he compares their lunches side-by-side. The contrast between his boring brown paper bag and her carefully packed tin feels symbolic somehow– his rough edges versus her organized elegance.
"You are getting too good at this," Zack says after shallowing a bite of the chicken mayonnaise sandwich, gesturing with his half-eaten sandwich. "First you help me finish two assignments, study for my history test and find the perfect love poem for the English poetry assignment, then you bribe me with fries and a homemade sandwich. Next thing I know you will be cooking dinner for me." A light blush creeps onto Anna's cheeks, and she shifts slightly on the bench. "Maybe one day," she says shyly. "What did you pack in for lunch?" she asks, trying to change the subject. Zack's lips curl into a knowing smirk at her shy admission, the blush on her cheeks only making her more adorable. "One day, huh?" He gestures with his chin toward his own lunch bag lying forgotten between them. "Oh, you know the usual bullshit. Turkey sandwich on white bread, apple that is probably bruised by now, maybe some chips if I remembered to grab them." His green eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches her attempt to deflect the conversation. "Nice try changing the subject though. We were talking about how you are going to cook for me eventually." He leans back against the bench, stretching his arm along the top behind her head in a deliberately casual gesture that brings them closer together. The brown paper bag of fries sits untouched between their knees as he focuses all his attention on her reaction.
"Well, it will be the inevitable result if we live together one day," Anna says shyly. Then she shoves her hand in the brown paper bag and takes out a handful of fries. Zack's entire body goes rigid at her casual mention of living together, the seemingly innocent comment hitting his like a punch to the gut. The Chicken Mayonnaise sandwich in his hand suddenly feel insignificant compared to the magnitude of her words. "Living together?" he repeats, his voice coming out rougher than intended. "You are really just going to mention that like it is no big deal?" He takes the last bite of the chicken mayonnaise sandwich and turns his full attention to her. The playful atmosphere from moments ago has evaporated completely, replaced by something heavier, more vulnerable. "We talked about college housing yesterday, but this is different," he says quietly, studying her expression intently. "You are saying you actually picture us waking up next to each other every morning? Sharing rent payments and arguing over who forgot to buy toilet paper?" His free hand reaches out instinctively, brushing against her knee as if needing confirmation that she is real and not just messing with him.
"Sometimes," Anna admits softly and eats one of the fries she picked up. "When things get all domestic like this, I can't help imagining it." Zack's breath catches in his throat as he watches Anna eat the fry, her casual admission about imagining them living together hitting him harder than he expected. The simple domestic act of sharing lunch suddenly feels monumental. "Domestic, huh?" he echoes softly, his own voice losing its usual edge. "So, you are picturing me showing up at your door is sweatpants complaining about work and you making me coffee?" He takes a fry from the bag without thinking, his fingers brushing hers in the process. The physical contact sends a pleasant jolt through him despite the serious turn their conversation has taken. "Fuck, Anna," he murmurs, leaning closer to her. "You can't just drop shit like that on me during lunch break. My head is already spinning." His free hand finds her thick brown hair, fingers tangling gently in the strands behind her ear.
"Would you prefer I lie to you?" Anna asks softly. There is a spark of defiance in her brown eyes. "Lie to me?" he repeats with a low chuckle that is more threat than amusement. "You think I would rather have you feed me bullshit than tell me what is actually going through that pretty head of yours?" He leans in closer, so their faces are inches apart. The afternoon sun catches the gold flecks in his green eyes, making them seem almost predatory. "Don't play innocent with me, Anna. We both know you love pushing my buttons." His free hand moves to her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his gaze directly. "I will admit it, but only because you love having your buttons pushed by me," Anna says with a smirk and leans forward slightly. Zack's smirk mirrors hers, a predatory glint entering his green eyes at her admission. The challenge in her voice ignites something primal within him, erasing any lingering hesitation about their conversation's direction. "Maybe I do like having my buttons pushed. Maybe I like seeing you get all flustered and defensive when I call you on your shit." He closes the small distance between them, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks. "So, what is it going to be, Anna? Are you going to keep teasing me with this domestic fantasy or are you actually going to tell me what that look in your eyes means?" His hand moves from her hair to the back of her neck. The bench suddenly feels to public for this level of intimacy, but he doesn't care anymore.
"It means, I hope I spend the rest of my life with you, like this. Domestic situations. Challenging each other and more…" Anna says confidently. Zack's breath hitches at the sheer confidence in Anna's declaration, the finality of her words striking something deep inside him. For a moment, he is utterly speechless, his usual quick wit failing him completely.