Page 22 of Friend Zone to End Zone

“No,” I said. “Of course not. That’s just Chad being a jerk.” I wanted to call him much stronger adjectives but decided to leave it at that.

“What about what he said about my cooking?” she asked. “Was he just being a jerk then? Was he making all that up just to make me look dumb?”

Well…

I bit my lip, not knowing how to answer her question honestly.

I must have hesitated too long because she said, “You’ve been lying to me, too?”

“It’s not like that,” I hurried to say before she could lump me in the same category as Chad. “Your cooking doesn’t completely suck. Chad was exaggerating.”

“But it sucks a little?”

I scrubbed my hand over my face.

I was just making this worse.

“Did you have to gag down your enchiladas today?” she asked. “Or did you spit them in the garbage when I wasn’t looking?”

“No, I…” I stood and started pacing in front of my couch. “I liked them. They were a little spicy, sure, but I made sure they’d taste good.”

“You made sure they tasted good?” she asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Well…I guess it was bound to come out sometime.

I stopped my pacing for a moment and mumbled, “I may have snuck a few seasonings in the sauce when you weren’t looking.”

She was quiet for a moment, as if processing what I’d said. Then, seeming to catch on, she said in a louder voice, “You spiked my food?”

“I prefer to say I tweaked it.”

“And is this something you do a lot? Or just tonight?”

I started pacing again. “Do I have to answer that?”

“Yes.”

I sighed. “I do it basically every time you cook for me. I know you probably thought I was just being helpful in the kitchen but…”

“But the only way you can stomach my cooking is if you fix it first.”

I pressed my lips together, wondering if I should just deny it. But since the truth was already out there, I said, “Basically.” And when she didn’t say anything for a while, I added, “Is this the part where you tell me you’ll never cook for me again? Because I really hope not.”

“But if it’s so gross, why would you keep putting yourself through the torture of it?”

I sighed and sat back down. In a quiet voice, I said, “Because you love it so much.”

The line was silent for a beat. Then in a confused voice, she said, “What?”

I leaned back against my couch and thought about how her face lit up every time she made a new recipe and watched me for my reaction—the way she got all giddy and clapped her hands together when I told her I loved it.

Seeing the joy on her face each time she was proud of creating the perfect recipe and sharing it with her followers made it so I couldn’t let her stop.

She loved it.

Cookingtrulymade her happy.

So, whenever she offered to cook a new recipe for me, I’d always shown up early to read through her ingredient list, and yes, sometimes type in different seasoning combinations and measurements into the app she used for all her recipes when she wasn’t looking.

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