He smiles slowly. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Sure. I’m really glad you came.” Today is the first time I’ve looked at Jett and wondered if we could be more than a hookup. This feels almost like a real date, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.
After our purchases, instead of heading back, I grab his hand again and pull him to a stop. “Hey, the farmer’s market is open. How about I buy some stuff and make you dinner tonight?
Please say yes, I beg with my eyes. I really want to get to know Jett more. After spending today with him, I know there’s a lot more to him than he’s showing me.
“Can you even cook?” he smirks like an asshole, and I’m totally here for it.
“Oh! Did Jett just make a joke? Who knew he had a sense of humor?”
His smile turns crooked, and he shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Why not? I’d love dinner.”
We head over to the farmer’s market, and this time it’s Jett who takes my hand to hold. Meanwhile, I’m smiling like a kid who’s tasting ice cream for the first time.
“I expected you to be more flirtatious and less… hand-holdy,” he says.
I shrug as we come to a stop at a vegetable vendor from a local farm. I lift a cucumber and sniff it. “I’ve always been affectionate.” I put two of them into a brown paper bag and choose a red onion. “I make a mean chicken shawarma grain bowl.”
“That sounds really good, actually.”
“Grandma taught me how to cook, and I’ve expanded my knowledge to make sure I get all those nutrients you need to be a healthy runner.”
“What else do you need for the meal?”
“Could you grab me some spinach and garlic?”
Jett walks over to the other stall as I reach for some parsley, mint, and dill. Last, I buy some free-range chicken.
After making my purchase, we head back to my place.
I put on someTame Impalaon my portable speaker and start chopping up some chicken.
“Can I help?” Jett asks.
I smile at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, can you grab the Greek yogurt from the fridge, and a couple of lemons? Then, if you could finely chop the dill and garlic.”
I shake my ass and sing along to ‘Dracula’ as I drop the diced chicken into a large bowl and sprinkle it with seasoning, lemon juice, and olive oil. Giving it a quick mix, I set it aside and boil some water for the quinoa.
Once Jett sets the knife down, I bump his hip with mine. He raises a brow, but doesn’t take the bait to dance with me.
“Ugh, you’re no fun.”
“That’s not what you thought the other night,” he retorts.
“Oh my god! Did Jett make another joke? You’re on a roll, my man. You seriously need to think about doing stand-up comedy.”
“Har har…”
“Not that anyone would show…”
Jett takes one of my dish towels, twirls it tight, and flicks the end on my thigh hard enough to sting. “Ouch!”
“You deserved it.”
Who knew Jett had a playful side? I love it. I bet when the real Jett emerges, he’ll be even more fun.
He makes the yogurt sauce while I sauté the chicken and steam the quinoa. The air quickly fills with the scent of garlic, cardamom, and cumin.
