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The elevator opened to a small foyer with Charlie’s front door across from me. I walked over to it, and the door opened before I could knock. Charlie stood on the other side, dressed in gray leggings and a black, full-sleeved button-up. His curly brown hair was tied up in a ponytail, and the smile he offered in greeting lit up his baby-blue eyes. As I looked him over, I realized that leggings suited his physique really well. Instantly, my mind started whirring as outfit ideas for him popped into my head. Maybe one of these days, I could help Charlie pick some clothes for himself. Wouldn’t that be fun?
“Come on in, Brady.”
I stepped into the penthouse and breathed in the spicy aroma that was thick in the air. “It smells heavenly here. What are you cooking?”
“It’s almost done. Do you like Indian?”
I nodded excitedly, my head moving up and down like a bobblehead, almost dislodging my carefully crafted hairstyle.
“Thank goodness. I was a bit hesitant about making it, but since you said anything works, I thought why not? Indian is one of my favorite cuisines to make.”
“Oneof your favorites?” I gaped at him. “How many can you cook?”
He gave me a thoughtful look before counting down on his fingers. “Indian, Italian, Thai, Mexican, Chinese, and I’m figuring out Japanese right now. Maybe I’ll make some sushi for you next time, if I can get it right.”
I was pretty sure my jaw was on the floor as I stared at him. Here I was with my measly ability to cook ramen without burning it, and there he was with his list.
“Are you a professional chef? I mean, did you work at a restaurant before moving here or something?”
He shook his head, and there was something sad in his eyes as he spoke. “I worked at my father’s pharmaceutical company, actually. It wasn’t something I really enjoyed, but the company was my dad’s baby, and it was always expected that me and my brother would take over one day.”
“He’s younger than you, right?”
“Yeah, by a few years. I sold my shares of the company to him. He knew I’d never wanted it, and he loved working there, so it worked out for the both of us, I guess.”
I could see he didn’t want to talk about his family, so I nodded to let him know I’d heard him before changing the subject. “So am I going to get to eat this delectable dinner, or do I only get to smell it?”
Charlie chuckled before leading me toward the kitchen. I looked around as we walked and realized I’d been right. The living room was huge, with an electric fireplace on one side with a large flatscreen mounted above it. There was a black sectional sofa with gray throw pillows piles. There were a few landscape paintings on the wall, and I got the feeling Charlie hadn’t really spent a lot of time trying to make this place feel like home. Yet.
The moment I walked into the kitchen, though, I could see Charlie everywhere. An apron covered with tiny fruits hung on what I assumed was the door to the pantry, while a pair of bright blue oven mitts lay over the counter. More spices than I could recognize were arranged on an open shelf above the stovetop, and pots and pans hung on hooks on one wall. All the appliances were new, but they looked like they were actually used. It was clear this was the room Charlie spent the most time in. Now more than ever, I was eager to taste what he’d cooked for us.
“So, what’s on the menu for tonight?” I asked excitedly, rubbing my palms.
“Wine?” he asked, and I shook my head. Wine was an acquired taste, I believed, and I’d never quite managed to acquire it.
“Water is good for me.”
“Okay, so for the main course, we have Chicken Masala and Naan with fried rice on the side. And for dessert, I tried making an East Indian dish called Rasgulla.”
“I have no idea what Rasgulla is, but I’m looking forward to eating it.”
He’d set the table already, and after much insistence, I took a seat as he brought everything over.
Charlie sat across from me and smiled before dishing up the food and passing it to me. Once he had a plate for himself, I took a bite of the chicken and moaned at the assault of spices on my tongue. I loved spicy food, and this was the best I’d ever eaten. “Oh my god, so good,” I mumbled before taking another bite, this time with a piece of naan.
Charlie gave me a pleased smile as he took a bite of his own. We ate the meal in a comfortable silence, with me making sounds of appreciation every once in a while. By the time we were done, I was almost too full for dessert, but I was also eager to taste it since I’d no idea what it was. Judging from the main course, I could bet it would be delicious.
Charlie cleared away our plates without letting me help despite my protests and came back with two bowls in his hand. I looked into my bowl and saw two white balls floating in a clear liquid. “Oooh, white balls,” I commented with a straight face and watched with glee as Charlie choked on his first bite and started coughing. His coughs soon turned to laughter as he grinned at me.
“Don’t choke me with the white balls.”
I grinned, glad he’d played along before cutting the ball into smaller bites with my spoon and taking a spoonful and stuffing it into my mouth. I hummed at the sugary taste of it before chewing the bite thoughtfully.
“What is this made of?”
“Milk, lemon, and sugar, mostly,” Charlie said with this shit-eating grin, and I knew he was playing me.
I frowned, trying to figure out where the lemon and the milk came from. Seeing my puzzled look, he explained, “Basically, you use the lemon to curdle the milk. And the white stuff you get from the curdled milk is what makes thewhite balls,as you so eloquently put. And the sugar makes the liquid part of it.”
