“I am?” Farzan thought back. “Oh. You ever playFinal Fantasy X?”
“Of course. Bawled my eyes out at the ending.”
“Right? Anyway, it’s ‘Suteki Da Ne’ from the soundtrack.”
“Ah. Thought it sounded familiar. You have a nice voice.”
Farzan hid his smile. “I’m not much of a singer.”
“Take the compliment, Farzan.”
Farzan blushed and nodded. When had he become such a blusher? But it was like David knew just what to say to make him feel like a shy teenager.
Farzan gave the onions a stir and got to chopping the herbs. He knew a lot of Iranians used food processors for this part—they did at Shiraz Bistro too, of course, a necessity for the quantities they made. But his mom had always chopped her herbs by hand, so that’s what Farzan did, too.
As the soup came together, David edged closer, still keeping his distance but leaning against the counter, ankles crossed in a way that made the bulge in his sweatpants even more alluring.
“My eyes are up here,” David teased.
“You know I can’t resist you in those sweats.”
“No funny business. I don’t want to get you sick.”
Honestly, Farzan was half-tempted to risk it. He and David hadn’t had the chance to fool around since the kickball game, and that was weeks ago now. Work had kept them both busy. They hadn’t even gotten to celebrate their official boyfriend status.
“Fine, no funny business, but you can’t stop me admiring.”
David ducked his head and coughed into his fist. “You sure you don’t mind doing all this?”
“I like cooking.” Farzan began breaking the reshteh—long, thin flat noodles a bit like linguine—into the soup. It was just right, thick and aromatic and vibrant green. “I like cooking for you.”
David’s smile warmed Farzan even more thoroughly than the heat from the stovetop.
When the noodles were cooked through, Farzan added the kashk and checked the taste. It was pretty good: not his best batch ever, but he wasn’t in his own kitchen, and he’d had to use canned beans instead of soaking his own overnight. He ladled a bowlful for David and drizzled a bit more kashk on top, along with a few crispy onions.
David cupped the bowl in both hands, bringing it up to inhale the steam.
“This looks amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’ll keep getting better over the next few days, too.” Farzan dropped the last of his dirty dishes into the sink. “I can clean these up and get out of your hair.”
“What? You’re not going to stay?”
“I didn’t want to assume…”
“You should.”
Farzan cocked his head.Should what?
“Assume I want you to stay,” David said, voice low and scratchy. “Always.”
Always?Farzan didn’t know what to make of that. Was David feverish? They’d just decided to make their relationship official, after all, and even so, they hadn’t really settled on what that meant.
“Come on. Grab a bowl. Weren’t you going to tell me something?”
Farzan looked down, wracking his brain. What was he supposed to tell David?
“Something about real estate?” David said.
