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“Well, stop it,” I said, even though I didn’t really want her to stop. I liked being flirted with. It was fun, and it made me feel special and desired.
It was hard to even pay attention to the simple directions with Alivia standing near me.
“Anything I can do to help?” she asked, and I realized she was standing right next to me.
“Um, you can mix up the sauce?” I said, not really sure why it was so hard suddenly to breathe.
“I can do that,” she said, almost, but not quite, pressing her body into mine as she took the packets and threw them in a bowl and then stirred the mixture with the spoon I handed her.
Tonight, we were making a shrimp and truffle mushroom risotto. I wasn’t so sure about the risotto part, but the instructions were clear, so I hoped for good results.
Alivia hovered as I started the risotto, then cooked the shrimp and mushrooms.
“Want to stir?” I asked her as I made sure the shrimp didn’t get overcooked. There was nothing worse than rubbery shrimp.
At last, everything was together and it looked great. I garnished it with herbs and then dished out two plates for each of us.
“Do you want to eat on the couch or the dining table?” I asked.
“Couch,” she said. “My body is starting to get sore from swimming. I didn’t stretch afterwards.” She turned her neck from side to side and I heard a pop that made me cringe.
“I have a yoga mat if you want to use it later,” I said. I didn’t know how long she was planning on staying, but I wanted to give her the option.
“Thanks, I might do that.”
We sat together on the couch, with our plates in our laps.
“Guests get to pick the dinner content,” I said, handing her the remote.
“Oh, uh, sure,” she said, turning on the TV.
“You need to know one thing about me, Alivia,” I said, enjoying saying her name far too much, “I don’t judge people by what they watch. Unless it’s like, pro-kicking puppies videos or something.”
“I’m definitely not into that, but there is something I’m into,” she said, flipping over to the apps section and selecting one. She typed in her show, and then selected it from the menu. I’d already watched a few episodes.
“I don’t know what it is about this show, but I love watching people cook competitively,” she said. “It’s also better while you’re eating, because then you don’t get as hungry.”
I was absolutely fine with watching a cooking competition show, so we let it play.
“Have you seen the one where they have to make knives and swords and stuff?” I asked. She hadn’t, so I told her that she needed to watch that one too.
“How is it?” I asked as she ate the shrimp and risotto. I thought it was good, but I wanted to hear her verdict.
“It’s perfect. I’m not usually a fan of cooked mushrooms, but these are great.”
Phew.
“You should have told me you weren’t so excited about mushrooms; I would have picked something else,” I said.
“It’s fine. I’m not a picky eater,” she said.
“Well, next time I’ll make lasagna,” I said, hoping there would be a next time.
“I can bring some leftovers from the inn,” she said. “I’m spoiled and I don’t have to cook much. I just eat whatever the chef is making.”
That sounded amazing, but also, I wouldn’t want to live where I also worked. She could never really relax because there was probably always a crisis.
“Have you thought about moving to your own place?” I asked.
