Page 31 of Force Play
Now tell me again how much you don’t want her
Ari
Fuck off, Pierce
I toss my phone down the sofa and smother myself with a throw pillow. I don’t know why I expected that conversation to go any differently.
Maybe Cole’s right, though. Maybe I should keep my headphones nearby because I doubt Lucia is going to stop.
Or I could just lis—
Fuck my fucking brain.
I donotneed to listen to Lucia have another fucking orgasm.
Once was more than enough.
Too much, really.
Even if it was hot as fucking hell.
Jesus, Ari.
Get a fucking grip.
And not of your dick.
Grip something else.
I quickly stand up, determined to not let myself free-fall into insanity, and head straight into my kitchen.
Cooking always helps me clear my head. My mom started teaching me to cook before she and my dad divorced, but I didn’t stick with it. According to Tom Morgan, “Boys don’t cook.” And since I rarely saw my mom after we moved to the US because summers were for baseball, I didn’t have anyone to teach me.
I didn’t start trying again until my freshman year of college. I hadn’t seen my mom in years, so I headed to Korea for Christmas break instead of Conservative Hell, Texas.
That decision is one of the best I’ve ever made. I hadn’t realized how miserable I’d been without my mom. We spent those weeks cooking and getting to know each other better, and we’ve had a great relationship ever since.
Now, we cook together every time I make it back to Seoul.
And while I’m back in New York, cooking helps me feel closer to her.
I know I’ve only been back for a day, but I’m missing my mom, so I decide I’ll make our favorite dish: bibimbap.
I take my time getting everything ready. Rice, spinach, bean sprouts, carrots, tofu, egg, sesame oil, sesame seeds, and plenty of gochujang. I load the dishwasher and clean up the mess once I’m finished before dishing out a couple of servings.
“What is that?” Lucia asks, walking into the kitchen.
I glance up at her before quickly looking away. I always knew she was attractive, but I’m just now realizing how attractedIam to her.
She must have taken a shower after the gym because her hair is still wet, drenching the shoulders of her entirely too-tight black T-shirt. The one she’s wearing without a bra. I know because I can see how hard her nipples are through the fabric, and the fuckboy in me wants to reach out and touch.
The moral compass in me reminds me I’d never do that without explicit consent, which I’m certainly not going to get from Lucia Torres.
I shake the thought from my mind. “Bibimbap,” I reply, finally answering her question.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Korean rice dish. My mom’s and my favorite.”
