Page 76 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
I swallow words that would give away how much I enjoy being this close to him—watching him do something he’s so clearly good at—and lean into the teasing dynamic between us that I’m weirdly comfortable with. “A couple days ago you couldn’t find the salt and now you’re cooking dinner for me? Are you planning to poison me?”
His lip twitches. “I can’t do something nice for you without suspicion, simply because you made my room smell worse than a sashimi fart trapped in a sauna?”
I burst out laughing. “A sashimi fart? What even is that?”
“The worst thing I can think of, but also exactly how my room smelled.”
The olive oil he swirls into a hot pan snaps, creating the perfect background music for his playful smile.
And even though I started the teasing, I realize what I owe him. “I really am sorry about that. I’m totally irrational without my morning coffee—which I assumed you’d hidden—and I just lost it. By the time I got to my bus stop, my rage had fizzled and guilt kicked in…even before I saw you.”
I raise my eyes to his to ask the question I hope I already have the answer to. “What were you doing there? At my bus stop?”
Archie shrugs and turns his back to me while he lays the fish in the pan. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says quietly.
I have a sudden urge to trace my finger over the constellation of freckles sprinkled across his bare shoulders. “Thank you. That was really nice.” I take a step back, tucking my fingers into my palms. “So nice, I feel extra guilty about the sushi,” I joke.
Archie turns and leans against the counter. “Mission accomplished then.”
He holds my gaze, sending another wave of heat across my skin. There’s something behind his smile I haven’t seen before that both worries and excites me. The teasing between us is so much safer than wanting to touch him. I wonder how many hours of the next week I’ll have to spend trying not to stare at his abs. And his shoulders. And the thousands of freckles sprinkled there.
I’m guessing a lot, since his only job besides starting a company appears to be ‘beach’. Beach Archie, a Ken doll, but with better biceps. Probably because they’re not plastic. But also, he could give Ryan Gosling’s Ken some competition.
“Did you at least find the bag before I texted you?” I ask to get my mind off how good he looks under that apron.
He does his lip-biting thing and chuckles. “Do you want the truth?”
I huff a laugh. “I would have texted sooner, but I didn’t have your number. I frantically texted Stella on the bus to see if she had it. I tried Frankie, too, but I have her old number.”
“Seriously, Piper, no worries. According to Frankie, my dirty laundry stunk worse than the sushi.” He goes back to his fish and sprinkles some fresh herbs over it.
“Was she mad at me?”
Archie glances at his recipe. “About the sushi? No. She laughed and declared me the official loser of this prank war…” He looks over his shoulder and points the tongs at me. “That you started.”
I laugh, equal parts relieved that Frankie’s not mad and Archie doesn’t seem to be either. “Uh, Ireckonyou’re forgetting about the Vegemite incident. I’d say that was ground zero.”
“Which you responded to with a nuclear attack.” He points to his hair, then his face.
“Guilty as charged.”
We lock eyes again, but there’s no teasing in the intense heat between us.
“Can I help you with anything here?” I clear my throat and step aside to create more space for him at the island.
“I don’t know.” Archie disregards the distance I’ve tried to make and stands so close we touch. “Doyouknow how to cook?”
My words get lost in the sensation of his skin brushing mine. I shake my head. “Will you show me?”
He nods and his Adam’s apple bops with a hard swallow. “Let’s start with the onion. Dice it into small pieces.”
He hands it to me, then faces the stove to turn the corn and check the fish.
I set the onion on a cutting board and pick up a knife. “So…I slice it this way?” I make a cutting motion across the onion.
“Peel it first.”
I stare at him blankly.
