I do.
He shows me how to peel the ginger with a paring knife. How to grate it into tiny pieces and warm it with the oil.
How to chop carrots and broccoli and set the pan at just high enough to cook without burning.
How to test the shrimp is done, drain it, add it to the pan.
We add rice vinegar, garlic, fish sauce, sesame oil, scallions.
I don't hate it.
Not even close.
Then we bring the plates to the table, and we taste our perfectly imperfect dish, and I fall completely in love.
With cooking.
And with Ryan too.
Chapter Twenty
Ryan
Finishing Leighton's website takes until nearly two a.m. Not that we're on task. We spend half our time talking about nothing. Or teasing each other. Or trying to prove some point about each other's cover model worthiness by doing mock-up after mock-up.
I nail her bright smile.
She nails my "broody blue eyes."
She drags me to the couch to watch Gone Girl, spends the entire movie talking about how the cheating husband got what was coming to him, and falls asleep in my lap.
I carry her to the bed, brush my teeth, wash my face, take out my contacts, lay down next to her.
Fall asleep next to her.
An obnoxious beep fills the room.
It goes again. Again. Again.
Fucking alarm.
I blink my eyes open. Squint at the bright light flowing through the window. Not that I can make anything out. I'm blind as a bat without my glasses.
Leighton's fingers dig into my t-shirt as she stirs. Her eyelids flutter open. Her blue-green eyes meet mine. A dopey smile spreads across her face.
Then she snaps up, blinks, shakes her head like she just woke from a weird dream. "Shit." She pulls her hand to her side, pushes herself up, slides out of bed. "What time is it?"
I reach for my cell. "Seven."
"You get up at seven?"
"Not normally."
"You set an alarm for me?"
What else would I do? "You have class at eight."
"Oh. Thanks." She smooths her sundress. "Am I really doing the walk of shame again?"
"Some of your shit is here. Check the closet."
"Really?" Surprise drips into her voice.
"You're the one who left it."
"Thanks." She moves to the closet, pulls the door open, pores over her options. She decides on something, but I'm not sure what it is beyond a black blur. "I'm gonna shower super-fast."
"You want breakfast?"
"No. I should leave now."
"Coffee?"
"I can get some on campus."
Fuck that. But I don't have time to object. She's already out of the room. The bathroom door—the one across the hall—presses shut.
Clothes hit the floor.
The shower turns on.
I move through my morning routine, dress, fix her favorite French roast.
The shower turns off.
I press my back against the counter. Then my palms. There's something about Leighton coming out of my shower, some intimacy there.
Different than before.
Fuck, last night was the first time another woman slept in that bed.
It was just sleep.
And we're just friends.
But my head keeps blurring that line. It keeps begging for more. For shit that can't happen.
She steps into the hallway in a tight black dress. Her hair is dry but messy. Her face is bare.
She looks just as gorgeous without makeup.
But knowing no one else sees her like this…
Her cheeks flush as her eyes meet mine. She smooths her dress. Adjusts its straps. "It smells like coffee."
"I can fill a thermos."
"Thanks." She moves to the dining table, takes a seat, digs through her messenger bag for her makeup. "I have more clothes here than I thought."
"You want a drawer?"
"Oh." She flips a compact mirror. Stares at her reflection as she lines her lips in red. "Yeah. If you don't mind."
I don't.
But then I can't offer her this either.
Not when she's after some other guy.
Not when—
Fuck, my head hurts.
I stay busy filling a thermos with coffee, fixing it the way she likes. I find a second, fill it with what's left, add a hint of cream and sugar.
It's warm, rich, sweet, but it's not satisfying.
Leighton swipes purple over her eyes. Outlines them in grey. Coats her lashes in black.
There's an intimacy to this too.
Like she's inviting me into her world.
I watched Penny get ready a million times. In the beginning, it felt like this.
Like she was mine.
But Leighton isn't mine.
She isn't gonna be mine.
I need to destroy that idea.
I down half my coffee in three gulps. Move to the table to hand Leighton hers.
She looks up at me with a blissful smile. "Thanks." She takes a long sip and lets out a soft groan. "Mmm. Perfect."
"We should go."
Her gaze goes to the clock on the microwave. "Shit. You're right."
"You could have eaten breakfast instead of putting on makeup."
"Girl's got to have priorities."
"Here." I find one of those individually packed bags of nuts in the pantry. And a banana. Hand both to her.
"What do I do with this?"
"You want to get creative with it?"
"No. I…" Her cheeks flush. "You're pushy."
"That news?"
"No. But I didn't realize you were this obsessed with feeding me."
"Someone has to do it."
She slides the snack into her bag, pushes herself up, slips on her shoes. "I'm glad it's you."
I want it to be more.
I want to keep waking up next to her.
To keep fixing her coffee, and cooking her dinner, and wrapping my arms around her.
I try to shake it off as I slide into my shoes, but the idea sticks in my head.
It gets brighter, bolder, bigger as we climb into my car.
I turn the key, let the latest pop hit masquerading as rock fill the car, pull onto the street.
Leighton takes another long sip of her coffee.
Her moan fills the car.
It drowns out the music.
And every one of my thoughts.
It takes every ounce of my attention to focus on driving. Santa Monica College is close, but traffic is already clogging the roads. It's not as bad in the morning, especially not this early, but it's enough to slow us down.
She lets out another low moan.
I stop at a light. "You fucking that or drinking it?"
"Can I really?" She draws a heart on the thermos. "Or could I skip right to marriage? This is like sex, Ryan."
"It's been too long since you've had sex."
"That hurts coming from you."
"Even I know coffee can't compare to sex."
"Maybe. Or maybe sex is overrated."
I shake my head. "No fucking way."
Her eyes meet mine.
"Nothing is better than sweaty, exhausting, can't stop until she's coming so hard you think she's gonna pass out sex."