I nudged her, and she nudged me right back, still laughing. People in the dried goods aisle rolled their eyes at us, grumbled something under their breath, and let us be silly all we wanted.
“Yes because mine wouldn’t be nearly as good as Luke’s, I heard that already.”
“Luca!”
I shook my head at Glen, “You go ask him how he prefers to be called; this is getting absurd.”
She shook her head right back at me, pointing at something I couldn’t see and mouthing, “He is right behind you.”
I jumped at his voice anyway. “What’s not as good as mine?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath before I turned around to face the man who hadn’t left my mind ever since he’d departed from our place on Friday evening. Or even before that.
Luke was comfortable in jeans and a sweater that peeked out from his half-open jacket. His new umbrella hung from the handle of his trolley, and I stared at it for a beat longer than necessary. It hadn’t been raining when we’d made our way over to the shop. I was wondering if I’d be getting wet again today because that was just my luck. I wasn’t wondering anymore once my eyes raised to his face. In fact, I wasn’t thinking anything at all since all the words fled my brain for a terrifying second.
Glen didn’t even miss a beat, “I could think of a few things.”
“We were talking about pasta.” I rolled my eyes at Glen because that was easier than continuing to admire the man. “And how it’s a given that mine would never compare to yours.”
Luke exclaimed something in Italian while waving a hand enthusiastically. He managed to look perfectly comfortable standing out in the crowd, meanwhile in that moment, I wished I could disappear. Then he shook his head and grinned, “I can teach you. Tonight? What do you say?”
I gawked at him. “Tonight? I—ah—I don’t know. Glen?” I turned to my best friend for help, as nerves got the better of me. She raised her shoulders in a shrug with an I’m-staying-out-of-this glint in her eyes. Or maybe it was a go-get-’em glint? She was much too smug about it.
“I’d very much like to cook for you, Hals—with you, however you want.”
I dragged my eyes back to Luke as my foot started tapping against the floor. “And you just so happened to be making pasta tonight?”
“It can be arranged. Plans change all the time.”
Tonight...That’ll leave me no time to prepare mentally.Prepare for what exactly? I’d been thinking about him since I trapped him between the lift doors. Yet the thrill I thought I’d feel at the invitation turned cold in my stomach, freezing me from the inside out. I wasn’t ready.
Luke waited so patiently as I struggled to come up with an answer, my cheeks heating up as embarrassment settled in for my inability to just say yes. To say something, anything at all.
“Okay, what if it’s casual? Just friends. You cook with Glen all the time, right?” Luke asked.
I opened my mouth, then shut it again. His words rang in my head. The very same head that had conjured all kinds of fantasies that will never happen because I was too busy freaking out. “You want to be just friends?”
Luke’s eyes softened, and he gave a slight shake of his head as if he was trying to figure me out but couldn’t quite comprehend where I was coming from. “It’s not about what I want, Red Cheeks, it’s about what you are comfortable with. I hope you realise your consent matters to me, and I would never have you do something you weren’t unwilling to do.” Something I couldn’t quite read crossed his face as he cleared his throat. “Just cooking, Haylee. You say no, and we’ll leave it at that.”
Perhaps he comprehended more than I’d thought. Too much.
“I enjoyed Friday night,” I mumbled.
“Me too,” Luke agreed.
“It could be nice.”
He murmured, “Yeah.”
My hands trembled at my sides, and I squeezed them into fists. “Maybe...ah... maybe next time?”
You coward!
Glen looked as disappointed as I was. Luke, however, nodded solemnly as a smile died on his lips. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!
A series of fake coughs pulled me out of self-loathing, as my best friend worked her magic to diffuse the rejection I basically gave myself.
Glen to the rescue! Bless her. “How about we make it a competition? We make pasta at our place, and you make pasta at yours. Then we’ll share ours, and you’ll share yours. It’ll be fun.”
