Autumn and I jostled for control of the same pair of tongs, bumping into each other. We ended up in each other’s spaces more often than not, slowing the process down. There was no rhythm. And the fact that we weren’t taking it seriously didn’t help.
Azalea’s voice carried from the front of the room as she joked with everyone not to mess around with the knives because “I’m hungry, and I don’t want to deal with any severed fingers in my food.”
“Do you always eat this well?” I asked my cooking partner. Everything we’d eaten so far had been stellar and I couldn’t imagine dining like this all the time.
“Only during the camp season. In the off-season, the four of us make some family meals, which is nice. And we’re lucky enough to be less than a mile from the main part of town, so we have options.” She smiled as we measured the flour. “Which reminds me, are you still obsessed with fried ravioli?”
“Obsessed is such a strong word.” Images of breaded pasta dipped in marinara flooded my senses. I could almost taste the dusting of oregano.
“Well, there’s a place in town you’d love.”
Maybe I’d convince her to show me when we went into town tomorrow.
“So, what’s it like living here anyway?” I’d take any tidbits I could get.
“It was definitely an adjustment to go from being one in a million to everybody knowing your name. The other day, the general store owner reminded me to buy tampons.”
I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
She added salt and pepper to our flour mixture and asked casually, “But what about you? What’s it like living downtown instead of in suburbia? I know you always wanted to live in the city.”
I remembered the first day in my condo, and the silence that followed when the movers were gone. Loneliness was not something I’d prepared for. But at some point, being alone felt more like a choice.
“Sometimes I like feeling like one in a million. Other times…”
“Other times?”
“It makes it easier to lean into the anonymity.” I didn’t mean to get this personal with her, but she’d always found a way to get me to reveal more than I’d intended, whether I liked it or not.
She furrowed her brows. “You used to be so social.”
“I’ve definitely gotten more reserved, if that’s the right word.” I hadn’t noticed the contrast between past me and current me before, but it was the truth. When had I allowed things to change? And was I even happy with that?
“I’m having a hard time imagining that. Back in school, all I did was study and hang out with you and your friends. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t keep up.” She avoided looking at me and popped the lid back on its container. Autumn’s admission had me questioning my perception back then. She may have been on the quiet side, but I always thought she was having a good time.
I stared off in the distance as I stirred the roux. “I’m the same person. My social battery just drains a little faster than it used to. I think the bigger revelation is how much more outgoing you’ve become.” I was happy to redirect the conversation back to her. I didn’t like being on this side of a cross-examination, however innocent it may have been.
Autumn removed the steak from the bowl. “I wasn’t that bad back then. Okay, maybe you’re right. I guess you brought me out of my shell. Until you left.”
And there it was. The elephant in the room. It was practically stomping all over our beef… Which she was now hammering with a meat tenderizer.
I placed a hand over hers. “Listen, Autumn, I…”
Her eyebrows tilted inward, as if she’d regretted her statement. She looked at the other students, who were already at their stoves in various stages of cooking. “Not here, Jamie.”
I wanted to press, but she was right. This wasn’t the place for it. I knew I’d have to address it soon enough.
Azalea interrupted my train of thought. “Now if you’ve finished beating that meat—”
Autumn let out a puff of air, and it was as if she’d forgotten about our sobering moment.
I elbowed her gently, my lips quirked as I whispered under my breath. “Be serious.”
That only egged her on. “I don’t know. Would you rather we tenderly stroked it? Or we could wank it. You would know better than I would.” She rolled her lips inward and her body shook, as if she was bursting at the seams.
“This isn’t jerk chicken. You need to have some finesse.”
Autumn snorted at my bad joke and leaned across me again. I tensed as she brushed against my side. Hell, did this woman even know what she could still do to me? I took a centeringbreath, trying to push my ill-timed lust aside and focus on the meal. But there she was at every turn.
