JP:Did he give you shit?
Kelsey:No. He was pleasant and agreeable.
JP:Smart man. Well, I’m on my way to the penthouse. Just got done with an interview withThe Gazette. I was going to pick up some Pho. Want some?
Kelsey:You don’t mind?
JP:Why would I ask?
Kelsey:True. Yes, please. Sounds amazing.
JP:I just get the original. Do you want the same?
Kelsey:Yes, that works. I’m headed back soon. Should I pick us up dessert?
JP:What did you have in mind?
Kelsey:It’s going to be a surprise.
JP:Why am I worried?
Kelsey:Because, although innocent in your eyes, I’m still a wild card.
JP:Very true.
* * *
I dabmy mouth with a napkin and set my container on the coffee table. When JP arrived, we both changed out of our business clothes. He changed into a pair of shorts and nothing else—shocker—and I put on a pair of shorts and a simple T-shirt. I also washed off my makeup and threw my hair into a clip to keep it out of my face while I slurped up noodles.
We decided to turn onThe Officefor background noise while we ate and talked. I found out that Dwight is JP’s favorite character, Michael being a close second. And I, of course, being the romantic, said Jim and Pam are my all-time favorites. JP just rolled his eyes at that.
Also found out JP would “bang” Jan easily, have a drunken night with Meredith, and cuddle up to Phyllis on a cozy night. I admitted to having a slight thing for Ryan, and possibly interested in a wild night with Robert California, which of course grossed out JP and ended the conversation.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had Pho before,” I say. “I’ve always heard about it and wanted to try it. I hate that I’ve waited this long. It was so good. Thank you for bringing it home.”
JP, who was done about ten minutes ago, leans his head against his propped-up hand and asks, “What’s your favorite cuisine?”
“Mexican.”
He nods. “Fuck, I could’ve guessed that. Those tamales your mom makes are fucking killer. And her homemade refried beans. Hell, I’d do anything your mom wanted for them right now.”
I smile. “I know how to make them, and it’s been said that I make them better than my mom.”
JP’s eyes narrow. “Says who?”
“My mom.”
“Okay, so what do I have to do to get you to make me some?”
“How about this—if you’re not doing anything tomorrow night, we can make them together.” When he doesn’t answer right away, I ask, “Oh... do you have something going on tomorrow? I shouldn’t have assumed. You have been spending quite some time with me.”
“Kelsey, chill. I’d love to make some tamales with you. I was just thinking about a meeting I have at four, but it shouldn’t take long. Should we start at six?”
“That would be perfect.”
“I can pick up the ingredients if you want.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I’m particular about brands. Trust me, it makes a difference.”
