‘In the kitchens, I know.’
Hopping down from the table I move over to the oven and beg the ghosts of my ancestors to pull off some kind of miracle, otherwise I’m about to completely humiliate myself. Opening the door lets out a whoosh of steam but thankfully no more smoke. That’s reserved for the smouldering mess on the stovetop.
‘But the ref doesn’t have my Southern specialities,’ I say as I slip on an oven glove and pull out a baking sheet of not especially impressive but still identifiable buttermilk biscuits, as made by me.
‘You did not!’ She yanks the earbuds out of her ears as she flies across the room to inspect my handiwork. ‘Ethan! You baked biscuits?’
‘Sure did,’ I confirm. ‘Now can I put them down? This baking tray is hot as fuck and these gloves are not capable of doing the job they were designed for.’
‘Can I?’ Mia’s eyes are big and blue as her fingers hover over the biscuits, still steaming and possibly scorching a hole through the kitchen counter.
‘You can but wait, you need the honey butter.’
I pull a small pot from the refrigerator, take a couple of the biscuits from the tray and place them on a plate before presenting it to her.
‘Miss Meyers,’ I say, pulling out a chair for her to sit at the table.
‘I can’t believe you did this.’
She’s tearing into the biscuit like she’s never eaten one before in her life, pulling the thing apart then slathering it in butter, and I am way too excited to see it separate so cleanly. Whatever I did this time, worked. Hopefully she won’t look in the trash and see my first two attempts. I didn’t know you could fuck up baking a biscuit, but it turns out you really can.
‘I tried to make grape jelly but that is way more complicated than you would think.’ I glance over at the pot on the stove, accepting defeat. It’s going straight in the trash along with my shitty failed biscuits. ‘You know they don’t sell it here? I got strawberry from the store but no grape.’
‘Strawberry is good. Gimme.’
The noise she makes while my back is turned is so sexual, I have to stay halfway crouched when I bring the jelly to the table. The look on Mia’s face, the way her eyes almost roll back in her head as she licks the honey butter from her fingers, is pure filth. Even if she doesn’t know it.
‘You just made a huge mistake,’ she says as I take the seat across from her and grab a biscuit from the plate.
‘I did?’
‘Uh-huh. You should never have revealed your secret baking skills. Anytime I’m homesick, I’m going to be knocking on your door.’
‘You can knock on my door any time you like.’ I groan out loud as I take a bite of my biscuit. ‘Goddamn, that’s good. Go me.’
Nodding with enthusiastic agreement, she pushes the honey butter and jelly towards me. I take the jelly.
‘How come you didn’t mention you’re a star baker when we were talking yesterday?’
‘Because I didn’t know until today,’ I admit, piling it on. ‘But like they say, there’s a first time for everything.’
‘You’re wasted on the soccer team and I say that with all due respect for your skills on the field.’
She’s almost done with the first biscuit when I realize she’s staring at my chest.
‘Good thing I picked up the apron when I went to the store.’
I dust myself down, trying to wipe a smear of batter away but somehow making it worse. Now it looks like I shot all over myself. Which I did, this morning, when I was thinking about Mia wearing my jacket the night before, the jacket she still has, but obviously I’ve cleaned up since then. Showered, shaved, and a little light manscaping because you never know. I even cleanedmy room and bought a fancy candle at the store. It might not be super masculine behaviour, but one thing I took away from my relationship with Breanna, candles are fucking awesome. They smell great and they set the mood. It honestly makes me kind of sad how easy it can be to impress women sometimes. They deserve better. Ninety-nine per cent of guys can’t even cross the lowest bar.
After staring at me long enough for her cheeks to turn pink, Mia looks away, breaking off a piece of biscuit and slowly bringing it to her lips.
‘Alice said she invited you to the picnic today.’
‘She did. You have a good time?’
She nods. ‘You should’ve come along.’
Spooning out the strawberry jelly, I scrunch up my face at the thought.
