Lizetta had always been a bit of a homebody, but finding herself in this situation while out and about was a whole different story. She felt a twinge of embarrassment as Remington glanced down at her with a stern look.

"Behave," he said, quickening his pace.

Lizetta couldn't help but gaze up at the sharp, defined jawline of the man before her; curiosity started to get the better of her.

"Is this really appropriate for you to meet your childhood friend like this, holding me in your arms?"

Remington, catching the hint of jealousy in her voice, looked down with a slight smirk, and stopped in his tracks.

"You're right, maybe you should get down."

Before he could finish his sentence, she instinctively tightened her grip around his neck.

He let out a light chuckle, amused by her actions.

"You said one thing but wanted another."

act, Lizetta playfully punched his

they had already

her heart race, as she

However, everything was just as she had left it, as if untouched by time. Suddenly, footsteps approached from

a plate of assorted fruits. She paused upon seeing them, then offered

"Mr. Dashiell?"

she hadn't

Remington "Mr. Dashiell"? Lizetta remembered Stella

at Remington questioningly, but he simply nodded towards

"It's you? We met before, in the restroom of that diner, you

nodded with a smile, "Yes, I never got

no need." Stella waved her off, but Lizetta noticed that she was wearing a glove on her right hand, which

voice chimed

washed the strawberries; they're

five, holding a small bowl of strawberries, stepping out of the kitchen. She shyly hid behind her mother, then curiously peeked at Lizetta and Remington. Stella gently told her, "Dorothy,

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