As if making my decision for me, my phone buzzed. ‘Seriously? You’re giving me your password?’
‘It’s a Netflix password, not my social security, which is 078-05-1120.’
‘One … one … two … zero …’ I pretended I was writing it down as I covered the bowl with the dish towel and put it in the fridge. I opened the text and logged into Netflix with Gabe’s username and password – Picklechips19! Cute.
‘How do you know I’m not just going to use your Netflix account to watchGreat British Baking Showepisodes?’ Because, yes, I absolutely wanted to do that.
‘You’re free to do so. Besides, you’re general of the Sunset Estates Allied Forces. If I need help from you, we’ll need a secret code. We can use movies.’
‘Why does the code have to beyourthing?’
‘Because we work in a dining room, Thomas. If you start talking flan around the old folks, they’re going to ask for flan, and then Natalie is going to have to ask Roni to whip up a two-minute flan for every person in the dining room.’
I snorted. ‘Say “flan” again.’
‘Flan!’
Just then my mom entered the kitchen. ‘Hold on a sec,’ I said into the phone, then muted my side.
‘What’s that look for?’ Mom smirked at me as she pulled open the fridge and grabbed a can of store-brand seltzer. Her smirk dropped to a frown when she saw the dough in the fridge. ‘No breakfast bread?’
I was more than happy to pounce on that question and not the first. While I was out at school and to my friends, I still hadn’t managed to tell my mom. So she didn’t need to know that a boy had created that look just by saying the word ‘flan’.
‘Dinner bread tomorrow,’ I said. ‘I thought I could power through, but I’m beat.’
Her eyes went wide. ‘Grilled cheese for dinner?’
My mouth watered. ‘With bacon and heirloom tomatoes.’
‘Text me the cheeses you want. I can stop on my way home.’
I nodded. ‘I’m going to clean up here and head to bed.’
‘Okay, good night, pumpkin.’ She kissed me on the cheek, and I blushed and said good night back, thanking God I had muted the phone so Gabe didn’t hear her nickname for me. As soon as she went back upstairs, I unmuted him.
‘All right, I’m logged in.’
‘Go to my list. I already put the most important movies you’ll need to see at the top. Let me know which ones you’ve seen.’
I told him a few as I wiped down the kitchen table:Jurassic Park,Forrest Gump– we had watched it in American History sophomore year –InceptionandThe Matrix. But that was about it. He asked about my tastes – nothing scary but nothing boring – and my attention span.
‘I make bread from scratch, which takes about eighteen hours.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Just don’t make it a boring one.’
‘EvenCitizen Kaneis more interesting than watching bread rise.’
Not when you’re not sure if the house is warm enough or your starter was active or any number of other things that could go wrong, and then you suddenly see some movement. But bread baking certainly didn’t have any explosions. If you were doing it right.
‘How about …’ I heard a soft blip of scrolling through choices on his end of the phone. ‘Wait! You’ve never seenBack to the Future?’
‘I have not.’
‘Then we’re watchingBack to the Future. It’s one of my all-time favorites. Okay, click on it, and when it loads, pause it so we can synch up.’
I followed his instructions. ‘You know, there’s a Chrome extension that does all this for you.’
