"Thank god you guys are here, I'm starving to death." Doug groans, clutching his stomach. He's wearing his UC Berkeley t-shirt with sweats. His blonde hair is wet against his face, weaving through the scruff on his face.
I always hear Carlee complaining, wanting him to shave his face, because when they kiss it makes her skin itch.
He refuses.
"Stop, you ate popcorn an hour ago." Carlee grips. She's got on plain PJs, a pink hijab wrapped around her head. I've always wondered what she looks like without it.
"Yeah, an hour ago, now I'm starving. I'm an athlete, baby. I need protein."
She kisses his head, "Well, foods here." Her finger points to us.
Doug turns around to us, "What's on the menu for tonight, Andreas?"
"Chicken pot pie," I answer.
"Not what I was expecting, but I guess I'll have to deal."
"Yeah, I guess you will." I follow Elizabeth into the kitchen, we set the bags on the counter. "You going to help me make it?" I ask, hoping she helps me out.
"What do I get out of it?" She questions, leaning up against the counter.
"A kiss?" I suggest, walking up close. My breath mixes with hers. She looks down at my lips, then at my eyes, biting her lip. "Do you want that, Elizabeth?"
"A kiss can't buy me coffee at the coffee house."
"You want money?" She nods. "Fine, here's 10 bucks, go crazy." I stuff the money in her bra, leaving my fingers to linger in the crease, her heartbeat pounding against my fingers, she just looks at them like their dinosaur bones that have been hidden for millennia.
She stands on her tiptoes, looks over my shoulder, then latches her lips onto mine, kissing me with passion and girth. I lean my hands on the counter, taking them out of her bra, keeping myself steady as her hands hold my face in place, wanting to be the one leading the kiss.
She lets me go, and wipes the slob off her mouth, "Let's get to work." Her hands sift through the bag, taking out the food.
"After that kiss, you think I can focus on anything?" I adjust myself in my pants, she watches, her tongue slinging over her bottom lip. "Don't look at me like that, or this food won't get made."
"Shut up and grab the knife, we need to start chopping." I do as she says, my eyes watching her body bend over as she grabs the cutting board, the way her hair glides against her neck, and the way her lips part in concentration as she chops up the celery.
"Hey, make sure the celery is cut neatly." I point out, walking up behind her.
"Who cares, it's going straight into the mouth out the ass."
I almost gag, "That's a visual I didn't need. If I'm making something I like for it to be perfect. Doesn't matter if one or a million people see it, it needs to be presentable."
"So, you're a perfectionist?"
"That I am. Here, let me fix this." My chest touches her back, taking control of her hand that holds the knife. Slowly, I start moving our hands over the celery. I lean down to whisper in her ear, "Make the cuts solid and precise. Yeah- wait no- move your hands ov- yeah, just like that." I then let her go, she starts to do it correctly. "Good girl," I say to her.
While she cuts, I focus on getting the crust ready. Flat it out with a roller, adding flour so it's doesn't stick to the counter.
"You know what?"
"What?" I ask, tossing more flour.
"I don't know anything about you. Where you grew up, or if you had chickenpox. Tell me about yourself, Andreas Chen." Her eyes focus on the cutting, making the cuts precise and perfect.
I push the crust in the fridge, letting it chill. Grabbing a knife, I join Elizabeth in the cutting. Cutting up the carrots, making them small and chewable.
"I guess we can start from the beginning, on how I grew up. My parents both grew up in China, then migrated here in the early 80s. They were childhood friends, before ever dating, and lived together as they both went to college. My father became a nurse and my mother a social worker, she's always been interested in helping children be in a safe and loving home, it's one of the things I love about her. A few years later they had me, then my sister Katherine. My mother loves to tell me that I was procreated at a Boyz to Men concert, which is so weird, thinking of my parents having sex."
"My mother said I was a happy baby, always smiling and trying to put anything and everything in my mouth. I started to show signs that I should do sports, so my parents put me in football, ever since then I've been playing. My father never wanted me to play, since football is a contact sport and could cause brain damage. Don't even get me started with Aaron Hernandez, my father was terrified I would get a CTE. He's always supported my football career, he knows I have a talent, but is afraid I could get seriously hurt."
"When I received a scholarship to Berkeley, they freaked the fuck out, I thought my mother would have a heart attack. She was sad when she dropped me off, scared shitless I would be hazed or thrown in a ditch, but I called her every day, even her making me take a picture with today's date to assure I was alive."
She stifles a laugh, "Like a ransom video?" She moves the celery over, focusing on the onions.
"Yeah, she's crazy like that. While being here, I met Teddy and Jace, then Juliette came along. When my sophomore year was almost over, I was ready to move out of the dorms. Doug told me about him moving in with some friends and that's how I met the others. Then, you came along and changed everything."
"Hopefully that's a good thing."
I smile at her, "It is. Now it's your turn."
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