I grinned, liking this crazy little guy.
“We can discuss the weather if you’d like?” he offered.
I laughed. “I reckon we can be a bit more interesting than that,” I said. “How long have you and James been together? I know you met through mutual friends at a sports bar.”
“Ugh.That’show he tells our story? Way to turn the most romantic meet-cute into something boring. No, no, no—” He shook his head and gestured with his hands, as if to wipe the memory clean. “Picture this instead. It’s a little over six years ago, right before the holidays, and I’m meeting up with my friends at a sports bar. Not really my thing, but my family lives in Seattle and I couldn’t afford a plane ticket, so I was gonna be alone over Christmas for the first time ever.” He paused, maybe for dramatic effect. “I get there a little early and order a burger because I’m hungry. And right next to me sits this hotter-than-hell man, eating his own burger. So we sort of get to talking—but he’s also focused on some game on the screens above the bar. I’m thinking, he’s not really interested. I go quiet and doodle instead. And after a while, he’s like, did you just doodle all over my napkin?”
I smiled, figuring that was James. Jordan was right; he was way better at telling a story.
“I apologize profusely, but he stops listening,” he went on. “He inspects the napkin and asks if he can keep it. He even wanted me to sign it! And suddenly, it’s like he notices me. We left the small talk behind and lost track of time. Every now and then, I’d look to the door, hoping my friends wouldn’t arrive. And we’re likeright there, about to flirt openly and possibly ask to exchange numbers, when his buddy shows up. And I’m super bummed. I can kind of tell he is too, but I was on the shy side back then, so I let him go.” A big smile spread across his face. “Two minutes later, my friends show up, and it turns out we’re all part of the same group. We end up next to each other in a booth, and it’s when we realized we hadn’t introduced ourselves. So he extends his hand to me and says in his warm voice, ‘I’m James, by the way, and I’d love to take you to dinner sometime.’”
Well, fuck. Thatwasa good story. Why would James water it down?
“We spent the holiday together, barely leaving his house,” he said. “A year later, he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him and move in. I could not say yes faster.”
Damn, I loved a good story like that. And their happily ever after was still ongoing.
“I have half a mind to give him shit gigs at work for not doing that story justice,” I said.
“Right?” He punched his palm. “Punish his ass!”
I chuckled and went to grab a clean mug for my next caffeine boost. “I assume he has some redeeming qualities.”
He sighed. “Heaps. Unfortunately. So, no punishment?”
Christ, this kid.
Over a great breakfast sammich with tomaters, the three of us came to an understanding that Jordan would now cover all storytelling, and James agreed while rolling his eyes.
After that, James ended up staying and helping me with the kitchen. Jordan had preparations to make for Fashion Week, so he went back to their place. But every now and then, he stopped by with little treats. He brought over a speaker I could borrow so we could listen to music. He prepared a fruit salad, which might’ve been the best I’d had. He said the secret ingredient was half a cup of orange juice. Then around four PM, he arrived with beer and homemade potato chips, fresh out of the fryer, and the announcement that dinner would be served at seven right here, not at their house.
I felt spoiled.
More than that, I felt…hungry. I wanted more of this in my life. I wanted to reconnect with my buddies and play more music. I wanted to havefun. I wanted people around me again.
A few minutes before seven, James and I were done in the kitchen for the day, and we heard Jordan thump his way up the porch steps. We’d left the door open once we’d started sweating buckets.
The marble top was gone, and so were the other countertops. The drawers and doors to the cabinets were stacked against the wall in the living room, and James and I were covered in dust.
We were also starving.
“Dinner’s ready!” Jordan marched into the living room, the only place we could sit. Because I had been the brainiac who’d bought patio furniture before I’d considered finding a dining room table.
In my defense, badass sale on outdoor furniture in the dead of winter.
“Jesus fuck, that smells good, sugar,” James commented.
Yeah, my stomach tightened with hunger as my senses were invaded by the scents of cheese, freshly made bread, tomato sauce, garlic, and oregano. And something else.
“An official welcome to Picnic in Ash’s Living Room 2019,” Jordan declared. “And a big welcome to our neighborhood!”
I was gonna have to come up with a thank-you gift for everything they’d done for me today.
“It’s certainly been the tastiest welcome,” I said, eyeing the monkey bread at the center of the table. That thing looked out of this world. Tons of little pizza balls stuck together in a circle, with melted cheese and tomato sauce on top. “Goddamn, boy.”
Jordan raked his teeth over his bottom lip and gestured at the chair across from him. “Sit down and eat, please.”
No need to tell me twice.
