I select a nice collared shirt, the gray slacks that do something special for my butt, and my fat blue suspenders. I leave the collared shirt on the kitchen table and the suspenders hanging loose as I finish preparing the food, and once everything is in the oven, I clean the kitchen, too.
Spotless.
I’m buttoning my shirt back up when I hear a buzz that lets me know Elliot has arrived, exactly ten minutes late. After a glance in the mirror, I let him in the building.
I feel rumbly. Excited.
“Oh my god!” Elliot says immediately and laughs, delighted as he takes me in a big hug. “It’s your home!”
The door swings shut on the hallway, and I drag my hands down his side. We linger close for a moment, and I press my forehead gently to his before we step away.
He’s in my home. We really made it.
I notice Elliot’s outfit. “Check out those pants. Very nice. Like a goth disco ball, and a perfect fit.”
They look amazing on him. He really pulls off some fashion that I don’t fully understand.
He gives his hips a shake. “They’re my sparkly pants. I found them at a thrift store.” Elliot kicks his boots off and looks around. Taking it all in, he steps into the living room. “Neat bookshelves. Framed art with science themes. Minimalist furniture. Exactly how I imagined, except I was not prepared for the number of house plants.” He turns back to me with an impressed nod. “They’re glorious.”
The plants in ceramic pots are carefully installed everywhere, on shelves and hanging racks, stools and nooks.
“Thank you,” I say, gesturing to the jungle I’ve grown. “They’re healthy for me.”
Elliot leans back on his heel. “Hot suspenders, too.”
I chuckle. “Thanks. Can I get you a drink? Water, soda, tea. I’ve got wine and beer.”
“Soda water, please.” He sniffs. “Is that dinner?”
I walk us into the kitchen. It’s warm, and a savory scent lingers in the air, sweet and rich and just a little pungent, garlic and fish, jasmine and onion. Everything is put away except for two silver bowls, drying by the sink.
“How is this possible?”
“What?” I ask.
“I thought I was going to get to watch you cook! But you’ve already cleaned up? Is there invisible food somewhere?”
“Oh.” I half-shrug. “I prepared ahead so I wouldn’t have to spend our time together messing around in the kitchen.”
“That’s very thoughtful, and I’m going to try to not be intimidated by how clean everything is.” Elliot turns and puts his hands on my shoulder, draping his arms between us. “Thanks for cooking.”
A flush goes through me. “My pleasure. I like to cook. I find it relaxing.”
Elliot trembles, and we move a little closer. I can feel the desire to kiss, pulsing between us, and our lips start to draw close. But we hesitate and step away, both smiling.
It feels so good to touch him; my entire body is alive.
I compose myself. “It’s Greek food,” I say. “A fish. Branzino. It uses lots of olive oil. I hope that’s okay for you.”
“Yum. Sounds perfect.”
“Great.” I get him a drink, pouring soda water into a glass with ice, and make the same for myself. “How are you going with all your work?”
“It’s okay. I finished an illustration of a vampire lactating before I came over. And I’m making progress on the fliers for the climate rally.”
I walk us into the living room, where my blue flannel couch takes center stage, and we take a seat on either end.
“Vampire lactation is a big project, right? That’s good.”
