“Hmm?Oh, I’m just reading the directions,” I say, looking up.I prepare for it to just be a nod of acknowledgement, but when my eyes find his face, his expression is pinched tight, suppressing a smile.
“You’re reading the directions on how to cook pasta?”he says carefully, like slowly letting the air out of a balloon.Careful to not combust completely.
“Are you laughing at me?!”I say with mock offense, but it’s the permission he needs.He folds over, laughing into his thighs.I fight the smile slipping across my face.
“Alright, alright.”I push his shoulder.“Are you done?I’m starving.”
He exhales, his eyes glassy with tears.“I’m done.I’m done.”He presses his lips together.“Tell me, what’s the first step?”he asks before exploding in laughter again.His cheeks are bright red as he’s uncontrollably laughing his butt off at me.That’s when the wheezing starts.
“Levi, breathe.”I laugh.
He quiets and his eyes lock with mine.“Come here.”It isn’t a question, and not rough enough to be a demand, but his eyes whisper please.I step closer to him, and he pulls me the rest of the way till my face meets his chest.I turn my head and press into him.His hand brushes over my head a couple times.No one talks.He just holds me and we breathe in the peacefulness of no longer being at war till the sound of bubbling water behind us is too loud to ignore.He finally releases me, turning his attention to the stove.I lift myself on the island behind him, watching as he dumps the noodles into the water before walking off to the pantry.When he returns, he is cradling a large jar of marinara.The muscles in his calves bulge as he squats to find a small saucepan.Once that’s on the stove next to the noodles, he turns back to look at me, arms folded in front of him, a satisfied look on his face.
“Where’d you learn to cook?”I ask, genuinely interested.
“Self-taught, but I’m not sure I would consider this really cooking.”His hips push off their perch before coming to rest in the space between my legs.A seated reversal of what happened a second ago.But this time I’m the big spoon.I take advantage of the height I’ll never have, weaving my fingers through the golden-brown locks of his hair as I pull him into my arms.
“I’m sorry, Tate,” he says into my chest, his body heat seeping through the cotton of my shirt.
“Shh, let’s not talk about it right now.”I don’t want to be reminded of the reality of all the ways we don’t fit.I want, for this moment, to believe that we work perfectly together, but he pulls back, blue eyes shining.
He bites back what he wants to say and settles for, “Alright.”
And that was it.A nonverbal agreement on how this week will play out.And after that?That’s next week’s problem.He dishes out two hefty plates of pasta and we eat and talk.As I’m taking my last bite, he leans back in his chair, eyes smiling.
“What?”
He smiles.“Nothin’.”
“Hmm, nothing, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m just...happy.”
***
After dinner, I wash, and he dries.A well-oiled machine.Occasionally he leans in, his arm brushing mine.Accidentally, of course.As I’m about to excuse myself, he pulls me into another hug.
“Let’s watch a movie.”
I look at the time on the microwave; it’s only seven.I place a puny hand on my hip, doing my best to look bored “What movie?”
“Does it matter?”he says, stepping into my space again, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m in the air and tossed over his shoulder with the ease of putting on a backpack.My hands scramble to keep my skirt in place.
“Levi, you can’t just go around picking people up.”
His laugh is loud as he makes big strides in the direction of the theater.
“You didn’t mind when Slater did it,” he says, blue eyes leveling me as he sets me down.
“That was different.”
He squints an eye.“Different?”
I look at him sidelong.“Okay, I may have done that...to make you jealous,” I confess.My eyes come back to his.He’s smiling.“You knew that already.Didn’t you?”
He lets his head roll to his shoulder before answering.“I didn’t know for sure, but at the pool, you cringed a bit when he touched you.”
“Very observant...”I say in my best singsong voice.
