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“Top shelf.”
He follows where I’m somewhat pointing to and manages to select the correct cabinet on the first try. I hear the water run and then he’s unwrapping the flowers. He runs the stems under the spout and uses a knife to cut them at an angle before placing in the vase silently.
Once he’s finished, he places the vase in the center of the small table and then turns to me.
“Hi,” he says leaning against the fridge.
“Hi,” I reply dousing a tortilla and then grabbing some of the mixture.
“This looks like a lot, you know we could have ordered food, right?” He pushes off the fridge and looks into the bowl.
He’s very close to me and I feel an uptick in my heart rate immediately.
“You can’t come to Los Angeles and not have some authentic Mexican food.”
“Is this a family recipe? I wasn’t aware that you are Hispanic?”
“There’s a lot about me that you don’t know. But I’m only part, my father donated the Hispanic genes to me. My mother was from here. But this is a recipe that I got from the internet, I’ve never made it before, so let’s hope it comes out good.”
“How do you know that I’m not a vegetarian?” he asks.
“Because of the two meals that we’ve already shared together, you’ve eaten meat during both. So, I believe that it’s safe to assume that you will eat this meal.”
“Paying attention. That’s good. So, how was the rest of your day?” He comes to stand on the other side of the counter, so we’re facing one another.
I finish getting dinner ready and we make small talk in between. Once the buzzer goes off on the stove, Maxwell springs up first and heads towards the kitchen. He fits his hands into the oven gloves and reaches into the oven to pull out the casserole dish.
He sprinkles the last of the cheese that I had sitting out and replaces it in the oven then returns to the couch beside me. With a grin, he turns to me.
“See, I can cook. Reason number ten million to give whatever this is a chance,” he says.
“I’ll need to start writing this stuff down.”
“Now, let’s talk about something serious. Who is your favorite sports team?”
MAXWELL
Since I’ve been here in Los Angeles, I’ve definitely not acted like myself.
I’ve been aloof, insecure and spontaneous.
Back at home, I’m serious, busy, and have no time to have lunch outside of the office. I have no desire to date and I definitely do not practically beg a woman to give me a chance.
But here I am.
Fixated on the woman that I drunkenly married during a blackout. Asking her to hold out on wanting to get divorced and saying that a long-distance relationship can and will work, despite my past and the unknown.
What our future holds?
Fuck! Who knows.
The last time that I dated a woman, we were both workhorses as I just got named partner and we would occasionally get together to eat a lunch or fuck. I’m not completely sure if that can be called a relationship, but the past few years have been busy.
But here I am, sitting on this woman’s couch, after eating the most delicious meal that I’ve had in years and wanting nothing to do but get to know her better.
Who the fuck am I?
My hand is on her knee and we’re sitting close.
