But it’s kinda hot. Not that I’d let him know that. I pour in the milk. Too much, so I add more mix, then hand him the spoon. “Stir until it looks like a swamp but in a good way.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“You will.”
When it’s mixed, I add vanilla extract and melted butter. “The box doesn’t call for this, but it makes all the difference.”
Iwork to get out the remaining lumps. Batter splashes. Some hits the stove. Some lands on the counter.
He laughs. “Looks like wrecking a man isn’t your only talent.”
“Boy, be quiet.” I ladle the batter onto the heated pan, dripping a little down the side. Rayne would be clutching her chest at this point, but Dice just watches with a grin and an amused head shake.
I show him how to swirl the batter to get a circle. The first one comes out looking more abstract than round. Dice wisely keeps his mouth shut. When it’s time to flip, I hand him the spatula.
“Gentle but quick,” I say.
He glances at me sideways. “Sounds erotic.”
“Just flip it.”
His first attempt folds like an omelette. The second and third are slightly better but still weirdly shaped. Our efforts continue between laughter and heated chemistry.
When we’re done, I slap his hand in a high five. “Good job.”
“I need a gold star or just one of these.” He dips me for a dramatic kiss, and when he lets me back up for air, I’m lightheaded from more than just the sudden drop.
We bring the syrup, juice, and lopsided stack to the table.
He waits for me to take the first bite, then digs in. “These are good.”
“Better than frozen, right?”
“Yeah,” he admits, chewing thoughtfully. “There’s something to be said about making it yourself.”
“You’ll cook again?”
“With you? Yeah. Not gonna lie. On my own, I doubt it.”
“I’ll convert you yet.”
“You could just stick around.”
“That’s not happening. I miss my people here, but I love New York. Collabing with other artists, the energy, the opportunities.”
“I get it. You light up when you talk about it.” He stares at me in earnest. “I’m really proud of you, Lot. Rayne showed me the Black Pride piece you did. Incredible.”
“Thanks. I’m working on an album cover for a new hip-hop artist out of Jersey. Being in New York opened that door for me. So many doors.”
He nods, quiet.
I don’t know what keeps him in Bayside. Other than Chaz, maybe. He works for a man who’ll never give him the recognition he deserves. His parties could be ten times bigger in a city like New York. We talked about this a million times before I left, and he never gave me a real answer. He’s so good, so talented, but as much as I want to push him again, I won’t. It’s not my place.
Queenie breaks the tension when Dice lowers his hand to her with a piece of pancake and she turns up her nose.
“See? She prefers my nuked eggs.”
“Traitor,” I mutter.
