Mia wore the same tie-dyed hoodie she always did, and Kitty had her hair pushed back in a sweatband that matched Greyson’s. All three girls were red-faced and out of breath.
“What have you three been up to?”
“Dance routine,” Kitty said. “Greyson knows the whole dance for ‘Get’cha Head in the Game,’ so she taught us.”
“Fifth-grade talent show,” Greyson said. “Dad knows it, too, I made him learn it with me.”
“It’s pretty impressive,” Mia said.
“Hey, Jo.” I looked toward the kitchen, where Alex stood drying his hands on a checkered dish towel.
Leaving the girls to their dance recovery, I met him in the dining room. “Great place,” I said. Not a lie. Poorly decorated, but twice the size of mine.
“Thanks,” he said. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but I’m sure your and Nina’s expertise in theme parties will get it up to par.”
I took a longer look at Alex. It was rare that I saw him in anything but work clothes or his running attire. He wore the usual plain T-shirt, but instead of his chef pants he’d chosen dark-wash jeans. The outfit was simple but appealing. At least his fashion sense was better than his decorating skills.
Alex waved for me to follow him into the kitchen. “Hungry? Thirsty?”
“I’m all right.” The kitchen, unlike everything else, was tastefully modern, with a granite island and sleek silver appliances. “What’s that?” I asked, gesturing to the white ramekins Alex had lined up on the counter.
He set down the dish towel and plucked a raspberry from a small metal bowl. “Crème brûlée. You know, what Zeke makes for everyone in the firstHigh School Musicalmovie.” He bent over the counter, placing the raspberry on one of the ramekins of crème brûlée. “WearewatchingHigh School Musical, right?”
“All three. The girls tell me you’ve got some impressive Troy Bolton moves.”
Alex plucked another raspberry from the bowl and shook his head. “Fatherhood. It changes a man.”
“I have a feeling you would’ve learned Disney Channel dance routines anyway. I’m sad I missed it, though.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t bust out the choreographed dances until the third date.” He paused, and his smile faded. I thought I saw his cheeks turn pink, but he cleared his throat and bent over the dessertsagain. “Not that I go on third dates. Or any dates, obviously. Since I don’t date.”
“Obviously,” I said. That hadn’t meant anything. Alex was just a flirt.
Silence fell between us, and I rested my elbows on the counter to watch him work. He always made the same face when he was really into a dish: scrunched eyebrows, mouth quirked on one side. It was fascinating how he cooked with such intensity, as if garnishing raspberries on these desserts were equivalent to disarming a bomb.
Despite Nina’s and Mia’s teasing, everything had been perfectly normal between me and Alex. I’d learned more about him in our time carpooling than I had about most people I’d known for years. His parents were vegetarians, but he wasn’t. Even though he was “roadschooled,” he’d made friends everywhere he went, though his best friends had been his older brother and sister. He would’ve liked more stability but was grateful for all the unique experiences his parents’ lifestyle had provided. He’d gotten into running because it required no equipment and was the easiest sport to keep up with while traveling the country.You took the termcross-countryliterally, huh?I’d said, making him laugh. We never ran out of things to say, but sometimes we’d fall quiet, and the silences were comfortable too. It reminded me of the feeling I’d had when I met Nina. Right away she’d fit into my life, filling a Nina-shaped hole I hadn’t known existed (though I hadn’t had quite as many dreams about kissing her).
When I’d met Shitty Peter, there was romance from the beginning. Like Alex, I’d met him in a bar. But while Alex was... just Alex, even from that first night, Shitty Peter had been like a mystery to puzzle out. Before we got together there had been weeks of tension and anxiety. He wouldn’t call or text for days, and then we’d talk all night and into the morning. It was confusing, but the kind of heart-pounding, sleep-deprived love you saw in movies. There was none of that with Alex. The only anxiety I’d felt around him had been caused by Mia’s and Nina’s overactive imaginations. Did he flirt with me? Sure. But he flirted with Nina too. Did I think about our kiss from time to time? Maybe. But whowouldn’t think about a nice kiss? It wasn’t like I’d done a lot of kissing lately.
I looked around Alex’s kitchen. On the far counter I noticed a spread of different foods: shrimp and avocado over cucumber slices, tiny sliders stuck with toothpicks, prosciutto-wrapped breadsticks, and the fanciest nachos I’d ever seen.
“You really went all out, huh? I would’ve been happy with popcorn.”
“We’ve got popcorn, too, don’t worry. I make an excellent butter sauce.” Alex arranged the last of the raspberries and shrugged. “Grey says I overdo things, but I can’t help it. You should see Thanksgiving when it’s just the two of us. We end up having Thanksgiving dinner for two weeks straight. Turkey sandwiches, turkey gumbo, turkey and stuffing tacos, turkey cake.”
“Turkey cake?”
“All right, that one was a joke.”
“Go big or go home,” I said.
Alex smiled. “You’ve been spending time with Greyson, I see.” He took a mixing bowl from the counter and two spoons from a drawer. “Try it.”
He passed me a spoon. I had to lean against his shoulder to reach into the bowl. And it was comforting, the warm solidity of him, like I couldn’t fall over if I tried. Alex watched me taste the custard with an annoyingly cocky smile on his face.
“So?” he asked when I pulled the spoon from my mouth.
I wrinkled my nose. “Are you sure you want my honest opinion?”
