The tension from before slowly melts away, and my blood hums.
My God, the things I fantasize about doing to her—all of them. All the things.
I rub the back of my neck. “About earlier. I’m sorry if it came out wrong. Chelsea, I can’t… ”
And the words stop, yet again. They won’t come out. Maybe it’s because I’ve already lost so much. My mother when I was young. My father when I needed him the most in my life.
Everyone I've ever loved has been taken from me. And if I say it out loud—if I admit I love Chelsea—what if the universe hears and takes her too?
What if speaking it makes it real, and real things can be destroyed?
Chelsea studies me a moment, waiting for me to continue, and that’s when I say, “You heated up the casserole.”
“Yes.”
We stare at each other, but I just can’t get the words out. “It smells delicious.”
“I think it probably is.” She pulls foil off the top. A wall of steam wafts up from the dish. “Looks like a beef and noodle concoction.”
“My favorite type of concoction.”
One side of her mouth tugs up, and I know I’ve almost gotten her to forgive me, or to at least understand where I was coming from.
“Would you like some?” she asks.
“Are you willing to serve it?”
She looks from me to the casserole and back, considering. “I’m serving,” she finally replies.
“Then I’ll have some.”
I take that as an invitation to enter the kitchen completely. Chelsea works to find plates, opening cabinets.
“They’re to the right,” I gently point out.
“Ah, so they are.”
She grabs one and places it on the counter. I frown.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Yep, she’s still mad at you.
“You have to eat.”
She just shrugs as she drops a spoonful of casserole onto the plate and pushes it toward me. “I bet it’s as good as it smells.”
It probably is, too, but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. “Will you join me?”
“I don’t think so.”
I close my eyes and exhale. “Chelsea…”
“What, Eryx?” she snaps. “Are you going to change your mind?”
Our gazes lock and after a moment I reply, “No.”
