Page 77 of Friendshipped
Trevor grabs a roll from the pan and bites into it.
“This is the first I’ve seen you bake in ages,” I say.
“I know. I had been in a dry spell.”
Trevor walks over the pot of coffee that has finished brewing, takes down a mug that saysI’m a Writer. Staring into Space Means I’m Working. He starts preparing my coffee just how I like it.
“What snapped you out of your dry spell? Not that I’m complaining. You can wake me with baked goods any day, for the record.”
“I don’t know exactly. I guess I kept thinking about how I only cook when you and I plan a meal together. I mentioned it to someone a few weeks ago and it was like a wake-up call.”
“Someone whose name rhymes with dreg or frog leg, or rotten egg?”
Trevor laughs and looks at me with a chiding glint in his eye.
“Did you come up with those on the spot?”
“Yeah. I’m talented when motivated,” I joke.
“Well, to answer your question, yes. I mentioned it to her at dinner. And it got me thinking. So, I decided to make cinnamon rolls for you.”
“And I’m so glad you did,” I say, licking stray frosting off my fingers and taking the mug of coffee from Trevor’s hands. “I could almost thank her for being your muse. Almost.”
Our fingers touch for an instant and I feel the tingle travel up my arm and straight to my heart like a defibrillator. It’s unfair the effect he has on me.
“You are incorrigible,” Trevor says with a soft smile. “Just behave at the street fair and fireworks. Okay?”
“I will. You have earned my cinnamon roll-induced surrender to your wishes.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I’m going to go shower. I’ll see you at the parade.”
I can’t help but wonder how serious things are with Meg. Trevor’s asking me to be nice and he’s taking her to the fireworks show with him. He didn’t come out and say they are anything official, but he did take her to steak. Then again, my steak with Eddie led to a night in the back yard looking at stars with Trevor.
Trevor’s not quite to the kitchen door when I say, “You’re too good for her, Trev.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it.”
“Well, not that you asked, but we’re not dating.”
Interesting.
“So, you didn’t take her to steak?”
“Who told you that?”
“So, you did take her to steak.”
Trevor holds up his hands. “Yes. We went to Grants. Why? You knew about that. I was welcoming her back.”
“With steak?”
“What’s with you and steak?” Trevor asks, twisting his face and studying me like I’ve lost it.
Maybe I have.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
