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“Oh, well, if you ever need more room, mine is completely empty. And it’s a magic fridge.”
My lips twitch.
“A magic fridge?”
“The food magically disappears from it.”
I laugh out loud.
“Seems just like something I need.”
“Feel free to use it anytime.”
He sends me a side-eyed look.
“Why are you stressed?”
I scrub my palm over the back of my head.
“I loathe my job?” I say with a helpless shrug. “I should find something else, but…” I shrug again. It’s difficult to explain, even to myself, why I so stubbornly stick to Mobius.
“What kind of job are you looking for?” August asks, toying with the lid of the scone container.
“I’m a chef.”
“Oh! That’s why you’re writing the recipes!” His cheeks flush. “I might have caught a glimpse once,” he mumbles.
I grin. I haven’t felt this way in forever. Excited and giddy and woozy with the hope for something good.
“I’ve always liked cooking,” I say. “I’m… I want to open my own place. Someday.” I’ve never revealed that dream to anybody. Most people probably figure it’s a plan doomed to fail anyway.
“Really?” August perks up. “That’s awesome. And hey! If you need help with numbers, I’m your guy.” He clamps his mouth shut. “I mean, not, like, your guy, just that I know my way around numbers.” He mutters something unintelligible under his breath when the train stops.
“This is me,” he says. “See you tomorrow? Wait! You missed yours! Fuck. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I can walk,” I say with a grin and get up, too.
We both get off the train and walk up to the street. We stop by the entrance to the subway. August fidgets with the strap of his bag.
“I have to get going. I’ll see you?” he asks, and there’s a hopeful look in his eyes that makes my heartbeat pick up speed.
Fuck it. I can’t seem to quit my job, but at least I can take the risk here. I really want to get to know August better, and as much fun as these subway rides are, there’s not enough time to do that.
“Would you maybe want to go on a date with me?” Words rush out, and it’s a good thing, otherwise I might have started overthinking it all.
“Yes,” August says at once, cutting out the agonizing wait. “Absolutely.” He nods a few times for good measure.
“Great!”
He nods again, smiles, waves, and hurries away, and it’s only after he’s disappeared around a corner that I remember we didn’t exchange phone numbers.
I shake my head and chuckle to myself. Idiot.
Ah well. I’ll see him tomorrow morning, and then we can figure out the date.
5
August
