"It’s okay, I guess. I’m used to just cooking for myself," I say. "I’ve never complained."
"Okay, chop this." She puts the celery and an onion in front of me. She turns and walks over to the pot, putting the chicken in the water to cook.
"What is your favorite thing to eat?" She grabs another bowl and starts to cut apples.
"I don’t think I have a favorite," I say. "When we are away, our food is usually bland and in a bag."
"There has to be something you would eat every day if you could." I swallow because I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that, and I am also pretty sure I shouldn’t tell her.
"I guess I’m more meat and potatoes than fish and rice," I say.
"Well, then I’ll stick to meat and potatoes," she says from next to me. I look over at her. "What?" She looks over at me.
"You," I just say. "You would do that, wouldn’t you?" I ask, and she looks at me, confused. "Cook meat and potatoes every day if that is what I wanted."
"Well…" She shrugs. "I like that, too. So technically, I would be cooking it for myself. But…" She smirks. "I do a mean maple-glazed salmon."
I don’t say anything else to her because I can’t. Just the thought of having dinner with her every night is too much for me. I don’t have time to get sidetracked with her. I can’t go there, knowing that at any minute it could be taken away from me.
She shows me step by step what she is doing, and she helps me make the dough for the apple pie. "All you have to do is knead it." She puts her hands on mine as she shows me. Our fingers link with each other. "Gently," she says. She looks up at me, and everything I told myself is out the window. Her eyes sparkle as she looks at me, and her smile fills her face, making her even more breathtaking.
"Your eyes," she says. "Your eyes go darker when you look at me." I swallow down that she knew this, that she took the time to get to know all the little parts about me. "But they are the darkest when you come close and right before you kiss me." She leans in now and kisses me ever so softly.
I stand with her in the kitchen the whole time, and when she walks away from me, I follow her. I want to pretend I’m following her to learn, but I’m following her just to be next to her. Her hands graze mine sometimes, and then she moves around me by holding my hips, and my cock is just going to explode at this point. "It smells so good," I say, watching her wash all the pots while I dry next to her.
"Why don’t you take a shower?" she says, handing me the last pot before turning off the water. "Then we can eat when you come out."
"Yeah," I say and put the pot down. "That sounds good." I lean down and kiss her on the lips, and I want to kick myself for just blatantly doing that. But the smile on her face makes me forget everything.
I walk over to the bedroom and take a shower as hot as I can stand it and then as cold as I can tolerate it. I ignore all the warnings shooting off in my head, telling me to just stop whatever this is. I can’t think about her in that way. She doesn’t need the shit I have in my closet.
I slip on a pair of boxers and sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Walking out, I stop when I hear the soft music playing. The shades are all closed, and the lights are dim, and the table looks like she just set it. I watch her move around the kitchen and see she has changed. Her hair is loose, and she is wearing green pants that are loose but tight at the ankles. She wears a long-sleeved white shirt, and when she looks over at me, I see that one of her shoulders is bare. "It’s done." She smiles as she bends and takes the potpie out of the oven. I walk over to her, and I can smell her citrus smell. If I could, I would lean down and kiss her shoulder, but instead, I just think about it. "You look handsome," she says, smiling, and all the words are stuck in my throat. All. Of. Them.
She walks over to the dining room and places the pie in the middle of the table. "Do you want a beer?"
"No." I shake my head. "I’m going to stick to water."
She walks back to the fridge and takes out the jug of water and another one of sweet tea. "I didn’t make a side."