“What happens if it gets too hot? Like you try to keep the heat down, but it boils over anyway? Is it all ruined?” My froggy voice dipped to a husky tone.
“Depends,” she whispered as her gaze slid to mine. I wasn’t talking about the soup and neither was she—whether or not she could admit it.
“Hey, is there enough to share?” Carlos came back into the kitchen and pulled two bowls out of the cabinet. “My throat’s a little scratchy.” He winked at Sara and gave her a tiny smile until he met my pissed off glare. He gave me a tiny nod and held up his hand before digging in the drawer for spoons.
“Enough for everyone. You can keep the pot for now. I swiped it from the lab, but I didn’t think you’d tell on me.” She smiled as Carlos handed her a ladle with a lot less charm than when he first stepped into the kitchen, having received my message to back the fuck off loud and clear. Not that he would try anything; he’d heard me talk about Sara enough to deduce how I felt about her and wouldn’t make a real play. I cupped my forehead and massaged my temples. My feelings for Sara made me want to beat anyone up who noticed her, even one of my best friends. My head was still stuffy and clouded, but I knew without a doubt how fucked I was.
Sara made me eat two bowls of the best chicken soup I’d ever had before piling me back into bed.
“That was the best soup I ever had in my life.” I yawned before downing some cold medicine. I desperately needed a good five decongested hours of sleep.
Sara nodded to the pillow for me to lie down before she put the sheet back over me.
“I’ll check on you in the morning. Get some sleep.” She brushed the hair off my forehead before she realized it and jerked away. “Carlos said he’d let me out.”And probably stare at your perfect ass as you leave.The medicine kicked in and made my eyelids heavy. I’d kick the shit out of him for it tomorrow when I woke up.
“You’re gorgeous; you know that, right?”
She turned to me with a half-smile. “Sleep it off, Kostas.”
I grabbed her hand. “Goodnight, Sara. Thank you.”
She smiled, and it made it to her eyes. My chest pinched at how breathtaking that smile still was, and how she only gave it to me. It was a gift, like everything else about her. Unlike this sickness, my crush on Sara was an affliction I wouldn’t be able to shake quite so easily—if ever.
“Anytime, Drew.” She squeezed my hand back before sauntering out of the room. My hazy vision followed her path out my bedroom door. A wonderful woman with such a huge heart shouldn’t have been alone for so long. Sara should be surrounded by people who care about her.
People like me. Sara should be with me.
I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of an angel who was only supposed to be my friend.
Sara
“WHAT WAS THEweirdest thing you made as a bartender?” Lisa’s eyes lit up before she threw back another shot.
I shook my head at her widened and glassy eyes. “I was a bartender for two days. I filled beer mugs and shot glasses. No fun concoctions, sorry!” I took a long pull of my own beer bottle and eyed my roommate. We both had a long and grueling week of kitchen lab testing, and I was willing to splurge and get some drinks to celebrate. Lisa was already on drink three and shot number four. I didn’t mind helping her out of here, but carrying her, as she had a good six inches of height on me, would be a bitch. The bar was close to the dorm but not that close.
“That’s so cool!” She shrieked as she stumbled onto the stool beside me. That helping/carrying window was approaching faster than I’d anticipated. “You know so many different techniques and recipes. I wish I had that kind of experience.” She sighed before downing the rest of her beer. “I wish I worked in New York City like you.”
I sucked in a deep breath and turned away from Lisa. Her comments came from an innocent place. Classmates would sometimes guffaw in class if I knew an odd ingredient or dish from the countless restaurants I’d waitressed at. And there were many: Italian, Turkish, Mexican, Indian. I didn’t discriminate and thankfully neither did they when I applied for a job. I was always too busy bussing tables to really observe what went on in the kitchens, but I’d catch things from time to time and even experiment at home with a dish when I had an extra couple of bucks. My quest to keep us fed and sheltered made me a Renaissance woman to my friends. It was funny and sad at the same time.
I motioned to the bartender for two glasses of water and spotted Drew strolling in with a few of his friends. He stopped short when he caught my gaze, his brows shooting up in mock surprise.
“What’s going on with you and Drew?” Lisa slurred before I shoved the glass of water in her face.
“We’re friends. Nothing beyond that.”
She snickered around the rim of the glass. “Riiight. You guys are adorable.”
“Keep drinking, Lisa.” I nudged the glass of water back into her hand.
“What are we talking about?” Emma squeezed herself between us and motioned for a drink.
“How cute Drew and Sara are.” She batted her eyelashes and folded her hands under her chin.
“I know . . . the little glances of longing when they don’t think the other is looking.” She let out a squee and I groaned into my hands.
“There are no glances of longing. Don’t encourage her, Emma.”
“Um . . .” She leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “I see one right now. He looks your way every chance he gets.” She grabbed her bottle of beer and turned to Lisa. “How hot would they be together? With Sara peaking and all.”
