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Dash
Paige shows up, and now my piece of shit house is filled with a savory scent I hope seeps into the walls and never leaves.
When she texted me earlier, I couldn’t help wondering how this night would go.
Paige:Do you have any allergies? Specifically, I’m wondering about shellfish.
Dash:Nope. What are you making?
Paige:A surprise. Will Cole be around?
Dash:Not sure.
Paige:Does he have allergies to anything?
Dash:I don’t know.
Paige:Could you ask him? I would rather not manslaughter your roommate.
Dash:He says pineapple. And I think you meant murder.
Paige:Murder is intentional. I would never murder Cole.
Paige:Scratch that. I don’t like using absolutes. I, at this time, have no plans to murder Cole.
Her questions about my roommate brought on a wave of jealousy.
Does she want to be cooking for him instead? Is he the guy she wishes ravished her mouth on a busy street?
With a great bought of self-control, I tamp the dark emotions down.
It helped that immediately after entering my house and laying her bags of groceries on the table, Paige slid her arms around my neck and smiled up at me, eyes on my mouth, waiting expectantly until I bent down to kiss her.
She let out a happy hum before releasing me and taking over my kitchen.
The amount of food she unloaded was more than I buy in a week.
“This is insane, Paige. Changing your tire took less than ten minutes.”
She waves me off then goes back to rinsing shrimp in my shallow kitchen sink.
“And this will also take an amount of time that might be considered in the realm of ten minutes. Comparatively. Now sit down and eat a cookie.” Paige slides a Tupperware container across the counter towards me. I eye the lumpy masses she claims are cookies.
“Shouldn’t dessert come at the end of the meal?” Despite my question, I open the container, releasing the scent of chocolate and vanilla.
“Food is food. When you’re hungry you should eat. So, eat.” Paige waves a wooden spoon at me.
That utensil was definitely not in my kitchen before she arrived. This woman came prepared.
I pick out one of the doughy creations that most resembles a cookie. The second I bite down, my tongue gets bombarded with dessert nirvana, and I’m unable to suppress a moan of ecstasy.
“They taste okay? I know they’re ugly. My food never looks good.” She watches me with worried eyes.
I want to assure her that these are the most delicious cookies I’ve ever consumed, but I’m too busy shoving a second in my mouth. So instead, I stand up from the table and move to enfold her from behind.
The gesture was unplanned, but there’s rarely a moment I’m around Paige that I don’t want to touch her in some way. That kiss in the car felt like permission. And the public make-out session was me finally giving in to what I want.
As Paige rests her head back on my chest for a moment, I let go of all the reasons why I convinced myself pursuing her was a bad idea.
