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“Sure, I believe it. And the last time you cooked or cleaned was…?”
He shrugs and nods, frowning. “Yeah, point taken. But actually, it was a couple of days ago. The pasta incident, remember?”
I can’t help but grin. “How could I forget?”
He still looks embarrassed by the memory, so I let it go. No point in making him suffer. “All right, then,” I concede, grabbing another bell pepper to chop. “I guess you can have some.”
The way he smiles at me makes me really want to kiss him again because it’s all sunshine and puppy dogs. I’m in way too deep. I’m in trouble.
CHAPTER19
JOEL
Ihesitate before I approach, but I see her shoulders drop, all the tension she’s been carrying since we got back melting away. It takes all I have not to bound up to her in delight, to be near her and make her laugh, but we have to play this one carefully. I don’t want to push her out altogether.
And she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.
“What can I do to help?”
She turns from the stove where she had been staring at her pan and gives me a look of confusion mixed with panic. “You want to cook?”
I wander over to hover by the fridge — closer but not invasive. “Yeah, why not?”
“Uh, have you forgotten what happened last time?”
I can’t help smiling a little at that. I’d have hated it if she’d stopped challenging me. “That was beginner’s luck.”
She folds her arms, the wooden spoon at an almost threatening angle. Her hair is tied in a ponytail, strands of it loose around her face, catching the light like a gem. How did I ever think she was plain? Her whole personality shines out of her and it’s beautiful.
“Beginner’s luck is supposed to be when you’re good at something.”
“Beginners can have bad luck too. Just ask any casino dealer.”
“Right. Something you know all about, then.” She stares pointedly at me then returns to her cooking.
Four days ago, I’d have been hurt by that comment. Now I’m just happy that she’s talking to me. I’m clearly forgiven for freaking the hell out earlier. And if this friendship is all Anna’s got to give me, I’ll take it. I’ve never had a friend like her before.
“Well, I’m not a beginner anymore,” I say defiantly. “So that means I can help?”
“All right, master chef, here’s the deal. You take this spoon.” She thrusts it out at me. I’m careful not to touch her hand as I take it. She moves away from her spot and points at it. “And you stand right here.”
I obey, marching into place, ready to follow her every order. I hold out the spoon expectantly and look down into the pan which is full of sizzling colors. “And you stir it every now and again. And you don’t do anything else.”
“Yes, boss,” I say, dipping the spoon in and stirring.
Anna turns to the counter and ducks down into a cupboard, searching for something. I stir the pan again. “Here we go,” she says, bobbing back up. “Rice.”
“Cool,” I say.
“I lost my job,” she says without warning. It distracts me from my job because I look at her instead. Her eyes are focused down on the chopping board where she’s still hacking away at some zucchinis, staring down so she doesn’t have to look at me. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh,” I say, not really sure what else I’m meant to do. “That must suck.”
She gives me a hollow chuckle. “Understatement of the century.” I think I’m probably not meant to point out the way she looks like she’s about to cry so instead I waver as I try desperately to think of something to say. She scoffs and snaps at me, “Keep stirring.”
Again, I obey. The silence is punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of the knife, the hissing of the onions. I keep stirring. Why did I never learn how to have human conversations with people? Why am I so desperate to get to know this girl better than anyone else?
Eventually, Anna leans over and dumps her handiwork into the pan. Her shoulder is so close to brushing against my arm and I wonder if she can feel the static crackle between us. As she pulls away again, she says, “Thank you.”
