He wore his staple oversized band t-shirt, this time rocking Nirvana, over a white long-sleeve shirt rolled up to his elbows. He shook his long hair out of his eyes as he took in what I was wearing.

“You look like a Yeti,” he laughed.

It had been a long walk from my house across town, so I had bundled up from head to toe.

“It’s the middle of January,” I huffed.

“Ah, I can tell by your red cheeks. Look at you—” He laughed, resting his palms on my cheeks. I sucked in a breath as he stood there giggling, warming up my face with his hands.

I swallowed hard, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks even more. God, I hated being a blusher.

Thankfully, Caleb was quickly distracted by what I had clutched in my hands. A huge smile lit up his face. “Are these carrot cake?” he asked, reaching for the plate. Caleb Brown had to be the only eighteen-year-old who’d choose carrot cake muffins over a traditional birthday cake. But it was his favorite, so he got what he asked for.

I nodded, and he pumped his fist in the air. “YES! Your mom makes the best ones. Give momma Philips a huge kiss for me.” His eyes practically rolled back as he inhaled the scent.

I smiled and slipped off my coat, gloves, and hat, hanging everything up in the walk-in closet. No way was I going to tell him I’d been the one baking them all along.

“Yeah, well. It’s your birthday,” I shrugged.

“Right, it is my birthday.” He slung his arm over my shoulder and led me deeper into the house. His place was massive. It was like walking through a museum. With his dad never home, we never had to worry about being too loud or getting in anyone’s way. It was peaceful at Caleb’s. I loved it here. And more importantly—he was here.

“Which is exactly why we’re going to eat these and a bunch more snacks while watching…” He skipped down the basement steps, racing over to the projection DVD player. “Drum roll, please,” he said, poking his head up from behind the machine.

I mimicked a drum-roll on the bar top at the back of the room. His dad had set up a home theater with three long rows of couches, a huge projection screen, and a liquor bar. Rows of framed photos of famous actors and actresses lined the walls, and a popcorn machine sat in the corner.

A goddamn popcorn machine.

I laughed, shaking my head as Caleb got himself organized. Looking around, I noticed he had already laid out chips, pop, and other snacks on the bar. It was strange—it was his birthday, but it felt like he’d set it all up for me. My stomach flipped.

I turned to him, my eyebrows lifting. “You didn’t.”

Caleb nodded eagerly. “Oh, I so did.”

I reached out and grabbed the movie case from him. Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny. Holding it felt like cradling a national treasure.