I shut the door. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but...”
I laugh a little. “I think we can both restrain ourselves for a bit longer.”
“It’s not just that.” He slides a hand down his sweaty face. I want to understand what’s plaguing him right now, but his face snaps back from sad to frustrated too rapidly. “Whatever, please don’t feel obligated to come to dinner. She will ask you a trillion personal questions if you do.”
I consider this. “Maybe I should, then.” Leo’s eyes widen. “Come on, if we can convince your mom that we’re internet friends turned boyfriends, then there’s no way a team of casting professionals won’t buy it. It’ll be a good barometer. It’s not like your performance just now was very strong.”
“Sorry I’m not an actor.” He rolls his eyes.
“You should be sorry. You have a face for the screen.” He blushes at that, exactly as I hoped he would. “Anyway, we can spend all day today preparing, so that by tonight we’re absolute pros. She’ll think we’re wild for each other.”
He hems and haws, even if I do detect newfound delight behind his eyes. “Okay, sure, but I don’t have that much time. Bossam is kind of a labor-intensive dish to make. The pork belly can take a while to cook depending on the thickness of the cut.”
I shrug. “We’ll multitask. I’ll help. Consider me your sous-chef.”
“Have you cooked before?”
“Not much, but you can trust me not to burn your apartment building down.” I smile innocently at him. “What do you say?”
He stands. “I say be prepared to take orders because I’m notoriously bossy in the kitchen.”
“Good,” I purr back. “That’s just how I like it.”
Cooking with Leo is a lot like what I imagine finally bottoming for him will be like.
Leo dominates with agile hands, firm instructions, and occasionally positions my body to get a better angle on my task.
Dutifully, I take the orders as we work toward our desired results, adding ingredients and spices one by one to a bright orange Dutch oven that sits on the stove top in the kitchen of their two-bedroom apartment.
The place Leo shares with his mom is small, yet the furniture is arranged for maximum openness. A cherrywood table with drop-leaf sides. A love seat and a recliner in matching maroon fabrics. A TV mounted to the wall (probably Leo’s doing) with no clunky furniture beneath.
Between the island and the stove, there isn’t much room for two adult bodies who are peeling and slicing radishes, which means we continuously bump elbows, brush arms. Sometimes, I sense Leo lean into a brush, and the temptation to kiss him nearly kills me.
But I don’t kiss him. I focus so I don’t lose a finger.
Even as, over a cutting board, he wraps his arms around mine and the sharp knife in my grip becomes an extension of both of our arms, binding us in an intimate way.
“We met on the forum as friends. You always had feelings for me but I was dating someone. When you found out we’d broken up, you invited me out here anyway and, on a whim, we decided to audition forMadcap Market.” I’m going over our agreed upon spiel again, so we master it.
“How long were we talking for?” he asks, adding Korean chili flakes to the radishes. He taps them out with such precision.
“Maybe four, five months? Time flies when you’re talking about your favorite show.”
“That’s good.” Leo sets the shaker down. “I might use that.”
Leo lets me mix in the green onions and sesame oil before we set our creation in the refrigerator to chill. As he checks on the simmering pork, he says, “I think we can get away with the rest by saying it was love at first sight.”
“Huh?” My heart wriggles into my throat. “Love? Who said anything about love?”
His eyes crinkle. “Well, how else are they going to buy the fact that you checked in on a Thursday and we’re dating on a Monday. Love has happened in less time. Ever heard of Romeo and Juliet?”
“Nope, are they friends of yours?” I joke, starting on the garlic slices which will be used as a garnish. “Fine. We’re in love.” I get hit with a quick flash of Buckley sitting in our old living room watching TV, flipping channels until he lands on my face. He’ll stop just long enough on the new episode ofMadcap Marketto hear Leo say we’re in love. Will his stomach sink slow like a penny to the bottom of a fountain or quick like an anchor dropped off the side of a boat? Either way, fake or not, karma will collect that day, and I’ll be the one smiling about it.
Smiling doubly because good-in-the-kitchen Leo will be beside me. Just like now. Making every moment more electric than the last.
“And let’s say we have plans for me to come visit you in New York next. I’ll meet your dad and see where you grew up and you’ll take me to my first Broadway show.” He sounds excited by the prospect, even if we are weaving a false reality. Even if, at the end of this, we’ll probably just split our winnings and go our separate ways. A handshake to seal this experience off. It’s not like you can build a life in one week.
