But Everett didn’t have it. Eventually, I put him on pasta duty, which was to watch the pot with his hands clasped behind his back and to stir when I prompted him to. I already had a timer set.
“What do you usually eat?” I asked as he watched the pot.
“You know,” he said. “Things that don’t require a lot of preparation.”
“Like what?”
“Coffee,” he said. “Apples.”
“You eat coffee and apples?”
“Toast,” he said. “I’m great with toast.”
“Oh my god,” I laughed as I whisked the salad dressing. “You arenotsurviving on coffee and apples and bread.”
“Okay, I eat other things, but you’re making me nervous,” he said, smiling sheepishly at me. “You’re really good at this.”
“Istudiedthis,” I said. “I’m sure if I came to a film set I’d be equally wowed.”
“But your thing is part of basic survival,” he said. “No one needs movies to survive.”
“Hmm,” I said as I set the whisk down. “I might argue otherwise.”
Everett grinned. “Can I tell you something?”
“You can tell me anything,” I said, almost unbidden. It was something I’d say to Laurel or Davi or Gabe, and I found myself surprised to be saying it to Everett. Still, I waited, curious.
“I watched a lot of Food Networkgrowing up,” he said, glancing over at me. “And I still can’t cook.”
I slapped the back of a hand against his chest. “You say that like it’s some big secret.”
“Shouldn’t I be able to properly dice an onion if I was raised on Ina Garten?”
“Hey,” I said. “Ina has faith in your abilities yet.”
“Does she,” Everett said flatly, as the timer I’d set for the pasta went off.
I bumped him out of the way, pot holders in hand, but he didn’t go far. Instead, I ended up with one half of my back pressed to his chest, glancing over my shoulder at him. Laurel was right: He was beautiful, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked up at him, as I remembered his hands skimming down my sides, hoisting me up against him. I tried to smile, brush past the thump in my chest. “She does.”
Everett, Gabe, and I cleaned up after dinner while Laurel and Davi worked on getting a fire started down on the beach. When we joined them, Davi was standing guard over it, arms spread wide in presentation.
“Look at my creation!” he said, clearly pleased with himself.
“It only took us seven tries,” Laurel said. “Proud of us?”
“So proud,” I said, dropping onto the sand next to her. Everett sat across the fire from me.
We all watched the flames whip their embers toward the sky in silence for a while. We could feel it hanging heavy over us, the next step this week had been gently leading us toward.
“I can’t believe this is it,” Gabe said then. He looked around at all of us. “I kind of thought college would just last forever.”
“Me too,” Laurel said, leaning her head against my shoulder. I scooped an arm around her, squished my cheek against her hair. “I’m really afraid of being lonely in Seoul.”
Laurel had landed an internship at a fashion house in Seoul after deciding she wanted to work abroad for a year following graduation. She had family there and would be living with one of her cousins, but she’d still told me she was afraid of living without us. I felt the same worry, heading back to San Francisco, where my closest friends were my Uncle Hank and the staff at his restaurant.
Gabe took a long swig of his beer. “I’m afraid everyone’s going to pity me now that Zoey and I have broken up.”
“No,” Laurel said, at the same time I said, “If it seems like anyone is evenconsideringpitying you, you call me and I’ll hunt them down.” Gabe tilted his head back, laughing.
