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Before I can prod her about it, Molly pours her egg mixture into a pan. The sizzling washes away the bit of tension between us.
“Mr. Hudson?” Lolita’s voice sounds beside me, and I force my attention away from Molly’s extra-focused stare over the burner. “Please save some cheese for the rest of us.”
I look down into my bowl, which is overflowing with a mound of mozzarella.
“There’s no such thing as too much,” Molly jokes, and I collect all of the shredded pieces.
As the sun disappears behind the canyon, painting the sky in bursts of orange and red, our classmates begin enjoying their meals. I take my pizza out of the brick oven and stroll toward Molly. She set us up at a picnic table away from the rest of the class. In front of her sits a plate covered with a napkin.
“You can’t possibly eat what I made when you’ve conjured up this.” She admires my piping-hot pizza. “Seriously. Are you hiding some kind of magical talent?”
“Maybe I wasn’t being totally honest,” I tease. “My dad taught me the basics, but all those videos of Gordon Ramsay in my search history are why I’m this good.”
“Gordon is a little scary. He catered an event for us last year,” she says nonchalantly and grabs a slice.
“What?” Sometimes I forget how wealthy Molly’s family really is and how different our experiences have been. The casualness of some of the things she says makes me feel really out of touch.
Would being in a real relationship with her always entail that level of adventure and excitement?
“Oh, it was nothing. When I was a kid, we hired all kinds of chefs to cater the elaborate, themed barbecues my dad used to throw.”
My brows shoot up. “Themed?”
“Yes. My favorite one was for the Renaissance. I was probably seven years old and got to eat a giant turkey leg with my hands while wearing a pink ball gown.” She takes a bite of her pizza, her eyes rolling back as she chews. “This is so good.”
Has she always eaten pizza this erotically?
“Thank you,” I say, my gaze not able to leave her face. “You really had the world at your fingertips.”
Molly stills, setting down her slice. “Yeah. It comes with its perks, but I assume most children can touch the furniture in their homes and run along the corridors. Not at the Greene Estate. All playing was done in the playroom, and all running was done outdoors on a small track beside the tennis courts. I always wonder if it would have felt as lonely as it did if I’d had siblings.”
I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for her.
“Trust me, when you meet my brothers and sisters, you might take that back,” I chuckle.
Molly plasters on one of her fake smiles.
“I’m sure that’s what all siblings say, but I imagine it’s nice to have someone fighting by your side. Or, at the very least, just on your team.” She shrugs and takes another bite.
“That’s true. Maya has always been one of my best friends.” My stomach growls, and Molly regards the plate she made for me. “I’m quite excited to find out what surprise you cooked up for me,” I say, lifting the napkin off of my plate. A bagel sits in the middle, though it looks like it has seen better days. I lift the top of the bagel to reveal eggs that somehow look both over and undercooked. But the bacon looks crispy, and the cheese is more than half melted. I smile. “A bacon, egg, and cheese?”
“I know I didn’t make the meal you put in your fact sheet, but you always bring one of these in on Fridays. Do you hate it?” Sweet of her to notice something so minute about me. Molly reaches for my plate, a blush reddening her cheeks. “Ugh, you know what, why don’t we split this pizza? Honestly, I think it’s best, if you want to avoid food poisoning.”
“Hey.” I drag my plate back. “Mygirlfriendmade me this.”
“She must not like you very much,” she giggles.
“I think she likes me just fine.” I take a bite of the sandwich, trying to chew through the burnt taste and runny yolks. This is horrible.Just keep chewing and smiling, man.
Her shoulders shimmy with joy as she watches me eat her creation.
“Molly,” a voice calls out beside us, and we turn to face Gigi and Jerry, the couple we met during our pottery class. “Sweetest dear, we cannot thank you enough for your kindness.”
The blush on Molly’s face turns wine red. “Oh,” she laughs. “Um, it’s no big deal.Really.”
“No big deal?” Gigi sets both of her hands on her hips and turns to me. “Not only did we get our nightly rate cut in half after that small fire in the pottery studio, your lovely lady here gave us a free week to any On Cloud Nine resort in the world.”
“Airfare included.” Jerry pulls at his suspenders, beaming.
