Dean pulled out a large bowl and combined ricotta cheese, lemon zest, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and a small amount of nutmeg, then whipped it all together with a wooden spoon.
Dean scooped a small amount of the mixture onto his finger, lifting it up for Colton to taste.
“Dude! I’m not licking your finger.”
“Oh, don’t be a fucking pussy! Just taste it.”
Colton reluctantly wrapped his pretty pink lips around Dean’s finger to taste. Sparks flew out of every pore in Dean’s body. He wanted to throw his fine birthday ass on the counter, smear thericotta mixture all over his insanely ripped fucking body, and enjoy a Colton feast.
As he tasted the mixture, Colton’s eyes immediately widened. “Fuck, that’sgood!”
“See?” Dean patted him on the back. “My finger tastes pretty good, doesn’t it?”
“You’re an ass.” Colton laughed as he licked his lips.
Dean pulled a stand mixer onto the counter, attaching a small silver box to the front of it. He cut off a portion of the dough, flattened it, and fed it through the little silver box. It came out of the bottom in a long, flat strip.
“You still have no idea what I’m making?” Dean asked, laying the flat strip of dough on the counter.
Colton shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“It’s pasta.”
“That’s pasta?” Colton pointed to the rectangular strip on the counter, astonished.
“Yep.” Dean took a spoon and dotted small piles of the ricotta mixture down the center of the dough strip, then carefully placed another strip of dough on top, pressing around the edges to seal them together.
He grabbed a mini wheel utensil from the drawer and began to cut out a little square of pasta.
He lifted the pasta square up to show Colton the finished product.
“Et voila!” Dean exclaimed. “Ravioli.”
“Wow!” Colton looked as if he’d just witnessed nuclear fusion, his eyes wide and childlike. “That’s so cool! Where did you learn to do that?”
“Well, I used to cook a lot with my grandma. And before my music career took off, I worked at a lot of restaurants, so I picked up a few tricks along the way.” Dean winked with a flourishing hand.
“You are just full of fucking surprises, Dean.” Colton smiled, sipping his beer.
“You have no idea, buddy! Hey, would you mind setting the table?”
Dean whipped up a quick sauce of butter, lemon juice, and garlic while he cooked the ravioli. Colton set the table and opened a bottle of white wine.
Colton poured two glasses of wine, and Dean brought the plates to the table.
“Here you go my friend. Happy Birthday.” He patted the top of Colton’s head, wishing he could grab a handful of hair, pull him back, and kiss the fucking shit out of him. How aboutthatfor a birthday present?
Colton tucked into the ravioli and took a bite. His eyes widened and he lightly pounded his fist on the table. “Oh myGod! Dean! This is exquisite! I’ve never had anything this delicious, not even at a restaurant!”
Dean watched Colton devour his food, thoroughly enjoying the meal he made for him.
I could get used to this,he thought as he sipped his wine.
Dean could feel a growing heat and intensity simmering between the two of them. He wondered if Colton felt it too. He must have. After all, he’s the one who asked if ‘we did something’when they got drunk a few weeks ago. But Dean was too afraid of losing his friend. He wasn’t going to make a move only to have Colton pull away, and potentially destroy their friendship. If Colton was feeling something for Dean, he’d have to make the first move. Dean wanted Colton in his life forever, even if he was strictly a friend.
“There’s plenty more, if you want it.”
Colton stood, picking up his plate. “I shouldn’t, but I’m gonna. It’s just too fucking good!”
