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Quaid
I lookat the clock on my kitchen wall, my fingers thumping agitatedly on the marble island. It's almost six, and I saw her dad's car pull up in her driveway about an hour ago. Restless and impatient for tomorrow, I throw my hands in the air.
“Screw it. Go big or go home,” I mutter to myself.
I slam my front door closed and run across the street in five seconds flat. Even though I'm nervous as hell, I knock on her door. But as luck would have it, it’s her dad who opens the door—not Valentina.
"Quaid," he says in greeting, looking down at me confused.
God, her dad is a giant.
"Hi, Mr. Rossi. Is Val home?"
"Yes. We were just about to have dinner.”
I take in the whiff of good old fashion home cooking, and my stupid stomach decides to growl.
“Hmm,” her dad mumbles, his lips quirking to the side. "You want to join us?"
"I could eat," I reply, kicking the air at my feet.
"Get in then. Wash your hands first. The bathroom is the first door to the right. Then come into the kitchen once you’re done."
“Thanks, Mr. Rossi. You’re a good man.” I smile at him and waltz into the corridor, ready for some grub and also to spend some time with Val without the guys. Mr. Rossi might be as big as a tank, but I have a feeling he’s of the gentle giant variety. He must be for Val to love him so much.
There is a tinge of guilt that assaults me that I’m here and Logan and Carter aren’t, but I shove that sucker back to where the sun doesn't shine. Carter, for all his woes, still has his gran to eat dinner with, and Logan…well, he has a whole freaking platoon back at his place. I dry my hands on the soft towel and walk over to the kitchen with a little pep to my step. When I pass its threshold, I see Val making a salad while her dad is over at the stove cooking up a storm.
"Hi," I say.
“Hi, yourself,” she responds. “I heard you invited yourself over for dinner tonight.”
“You heard wrong. Your dad invited me. Didn’t you, Mr. E?”
He rolls his eyes at me for abbreviating his first name to just a vowel, but I can tell he isn’t really offended by it.
“Just make yourself useful and put some plates on the table. They're in that cupboard right there.” He points over his shoulder to where the plates must be.
I have to get on my tiptoes in a vain attempt to try and open the wooden door. Val giggles into her fist as I struggle and fail miserably. I had a growth spurt this year, but still can't reach it. A movement behind me warns me as Val pushes a chair for me to use.
“Don’t be a tough guy, Quaid. No shame in asking for help when you need it.”
I feel my cheeks go red, but I get on top of the chair anyway. She stands by my side as I hand her one plate at a time, praying all the while that I don’t drop one.
She hands me the place mats to put on the kitchen table and then shows me where the silverware is before going back to her salad. It takes me a bit to have everything looking sharp, but then again, I’ve never set a table in my life. I usually eat out of whatever container my takeout comes from, so there really was never a need to set up a table for just me.
“That smells freaking incredible, Mr. E. Are you a cook or something?”
“Actually, Dad is an architect. He just likes to cook.”
“Well, it smells great. What is it?
“It’s mushroom and bacon risotto, kid.”
“Hmm. That’s rice, right?” I ask unsure.
“Yeah, fancy rice,” Val replies, wiggling her brows teasingly. “You'll like it, promise.”
I know I will. Anything is better than cold takeout anyway.
