“Not to make it awkward, but are you seeing other people?” she asked.
They’d had protected sex the previous night (thank God), but this put things in a new light for her. She hadn’t had to thinkabout things like condoms or STDs since before the pandemic. Julian recognized the worried look on her face and patted her arm.
“I know what you’re getting at, and yes, I’ve been dating here and there, but always wrapped up.”
Cierra blew out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
With no more mention of coffee, Julian grabbed his keys and phone.
“Well, I had a great time last night.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“I’ll see you soon?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He gave her a kiss before heading downstairs, and Cierra promptly shut and locked the door behind him.
What was that?she asked herself. He wanted things to stay as they were. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She tried telling herself that it wasn’t a big deal; he still wanted to see her, didn’t he? It’s just, the way he’d looked at her, what they talked about, how could he not be feeling the same way she did; that they were advancing.
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t, she considered, which felt like a blow to the gut. Cierra couldn’t help but feel her newfound crush dwindling — like she was just on a sunny beach and a little shit had come and dumped ice water on her head.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AFTER THE TECHNICOLOR flurry of Mexico City, she had settled back into her routine at work. Rays of warm sunlight flooded into the Lawsons’ kitchen as Erik typed away on his laptop and Cierra meal-prepped for the upcoming week. The two quietly worked in a friendly established comfort, occasionally chatting here and there. On other days similar to this one, Elliot or Zelda would sometimes join, too.
The wide array of summer produce at the farmers' market had helped lift her spirits after her rude awakening with Julian, which she was still processing. There were rows and rows of pearly sweet corn, fleshy watermelon and peaches, and her menu reflected the season’s bounty. She had even made time to stop by Miriam’s stall, thanking her and showing her which meals the meaty fungi had turned into.
Julian had called since, asking if she wanted to meetup later that week for a date; he’d snagged club seat tickets to a Yankees baseball game. It had eased her nerves somewhat, knowing that he wasn’t just holding out until they slept together, only to lose interest. Not that she thought he was that kind of guy. But then again, she didn’t have the best track record of knowing what men were thinking, did she?
Cierra declined, not because she didn’t want to go, but because she’d already committed to a food festival in Queens on the same day — she had even gotten a ticket for him. Shehad planned to present it to him as a sort of opening to a new phase in their relationship; some friends usually tagged along. But their chilly morning-after conversation quickly extinguished that idea.
Swaying to the wistful crooning ofPut Your Records On, she shucked corn and hummed along to the melody, occasionally selecting Skittles from a small dish near her prep station while getting lost in the meditative action.Shuck, discard, skittle, repeat.Next to the corn were cherry tomatoes, displaying various hues of crimson-red and midnight-purple, along with okra. She’d submerge the okra in a one-second bath of boiling water, before allowing it to cool. Mixed with fresh basil and roughly cracked salt, it was one of the simplest meals imaginable but tasted like a garden in your mouth. She sent a quick voice note to Mia, asking what she thought of a “five-ingredient series.” And right after she hit send, a soft chuckle escaped Erik, barely audible over the music and the hum of the computer. She had nearly forgotten he was there, lost in her lush, summery world.
“What are you laughing at, huh?” she asked jokingly.
“Nothing,” he said. The corners of his mouth curved upward in a subtle smile. “Hey, toss me one of those. I wanna see if I can catch it.”
Squinting her eyes, like a pitcher assessing a player up to bat, she lobbed a lime green piece, which he caught effortlessly and promptly ate.
“What’s your deal with those anyway, you gotta sweet tooth?”
“Something like that. They were my study snack back in college, but now I just have them if I’m working, or stressed, or bored. Any occasion really.” Gathering the okra, she delicately sliced the tops off, careful not to take off any more than necessary. “But don’t change the subject, I heard you laugh at myseries idea.” Erik made a confused face. “I know . . . making these videos probably seems so cringe to you.”
He stopped typing for a bit, looking at her with an annoyed expression. “I’m not judging you, Chef Cierra,” he said with a smirk. “I made that noise because of how you looked working just now. It’s like watching a beaver build a dam, or a painter lost in their art. And with the videos, isn’t social media the way? You leaning into it seems like a good thing. You’re trying something new. It’s admirable.”
“Oh,” she replied. “Well, I’m still getting used to it. Never thought I’d be one of the ‘influencing’ types.”
“Isn’t it doing well?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then who cares? Your videos are fun. I know I love watching them. What’s the issue?”
Steam began shooting out of the covered pot of boiling water, signaling the tiny okras were ready for their bath. As she poured in the oblong-shaped veggies, she asked herself the same question. As if it were last night, she could recall that patronizing pout on Melanie’s face at Amber’s birthday party.
“Well, Erik,” she said, “I guess not everyone is as supportive as you.”
