"Do you take your popcorn plain or drowned in butter?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.
Mark smirked, leaning against the counter. "Do I look like the type of person who does plain anything?"
I laughed, shaking my head as I grabbed the butter from the fridge. "Noted. Butter it is."
When the popcorn was ready, I reached for the bowl, but Mark's hand brushed against mine as he reached for it simultaneously. Neither of us moved for a second, the contact lingering just a moment too long before I cleared my throat and stepped back, letting him take it.
"Guess you really do control the snacks," I said lightly, ignoring the warmth creeping up my neck.
Mark smirked, carrying the bowl to the couch. "Finally, you're catching on."
