Page 30 of The Hook Up


Font Size:  

“Nothing wrong with being curious either.” A small, wry noise leaves him. “It happened the summer after I graduated high school. They were hiking in Colorado. A flash flood came and... It was... I don’t know. I mean, who the fuck expects something like that?”

No one. I want to hug him so badly that my arms ache. But I don’t think he’d appreciate the gesture. If it were me, I’d take it as pity. As if he’s worried about that very thing, he glances toward the kitchen. “Can I still have a drink?”

“Sure.” I snap out of my daze and move to the fridge. “Right.”

Baylor leans a hip against my breakfast bar.

“We’ve got—” I open the fridge and peer in “—one Blue Moon, water, white wine, and orange juice.”

“I’ll take a water.” His stomach gives a loud and impatient gurgle. Color tints his cheeks, and his mouth tips wryly. “Sorry.”

“Hungry?” I ask, pouring him a glass of filtered water.

“Almost always.” He doesn’t even try to make it sound like an innuendo. And yet somehow it does. Probably because I can’t be in the same room with Drew Baylor and not think about sex. But I behave as I open the fridge again and rummage through it.

“Okay, there’s cheesecake, two pieces of chicken satay, yogurt, though we really shouldn’t touch that, or Iris will kill us...”

Behind me, Baylor takes his water and has a long drink before peering over my shoulder. “Iris? Your roommate, right?”

“The very one.” Every muscle in my body twitches at the close proximity of his. “She’s on a Greek yogurt kick.”

“Ah.”

“There’s also...” I peek under an aluminum lid. “Ooh, kebobs.”

“Did you have a party or something?” His arms rest on the edges of the door, bracketing my shoulders, and I feel oddly sheltered.

“They’re from catering gigs. The right to bring home leftover food trays is one of the main reasons I took a job in the catering department. Iris and I save a boatload on our food budget.”

Baylor’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’m pretty sure you are every athlete’s dream roommate.”

I do not ask if that includes him, but turn back to the food. “Well? What will it be?”

“You’re really going to feed me?” He sounds surprised.

“Of course I am.” I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Or don’t you want me to?”

Because I can take it back. I can simply lead him into my room and—

“No, I mean, yeah. I want it.” Baylor full-on blushes now. “Shit. Food. I mean—”

I laugh. “I know what you meant.”

He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just make the kebobs.”

Still laughing, I pull out the container and a pack of eggs. “Okay, but I don’t do reheats. I like to think of leftovers more as raw material for new meals.”

His self-deprecation melts away, and he leans back against the counter. “What are you making me, Jones?”

“A frittata.” I grab a small hunk of Gouda that actually was left over from a party. “With cheese.”

“Sounds awesome.”

It’s surprisingly easy and fun with Baylor in the kitchen. He helps me free the meat and veggies from their skewers, and then I chop it all up into smaller sizes, while he grates the cheese for me.

“You know how to cook,” he observes as I begin refrying the kabob pieces. The scent of onions and beef perfume the air.

“I’m proficient.” I whisk a bowl of eggs and pour it into the frying pan. “Growing up, it was just my mom and me, so I helped where I could.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like