“You know her?” Nina asked. The definitely gold, not gold-plated, rings on her fingers gleamed brighter with surprise.
“We went to school together.”
Opal picked up the magazine again. “She’s the one you kissed!” She pumped her fist as though she’d just scored a winning try on the rugby pitch.
“I want to see.” Nina snatched the magazine out of Opal’s hands. Her voluminous mane of wavy hair swirled around her as she turned to look at Sullivan.
“The woman you kissed in front of the whole auditorium.” Nina nodded. “The one who beat you by point six percent.”
“Didn’t you say she was the best chef you’d worked with? I’m offended, by the way,” Opal said, not looking at all offended. “Kia was the one who got away.” She gave Nina a knowing look. “Sullivan had feelings for her.”
“Not like that.” Sullivan missed the look in Kia’s eyes when Kia realized Sullivan’s coq au vin beat hers hands down. She missed Kia’s gloating grin when Kia’s mille-feuille had a million more feuilles than Sullivan’s. Their competition had made Sullivan want to be better than Kia at everything Kia was great at. But she hadn’t had those kind offeelingsfor her. “And it was one kiss.”
A lie.
She’d never told Nina and Opal about kissing in the practice kitchen after graduation or why, no matter how much she changed her dessert menu, she always featured the Golden Crisp Experience. It was such a Mirepoix staple now, she’d almost forgotten that she first prepared it to tease Kia for her inexplicable love of the Rice Krispies treat.
Those kisses didn’t fit the story Sullivan told herself—and then told her friends—about that night. The way she’d told the story, they’d competed, came in first and second, kissed once, andwent their separate ways. They’d had thousands of hours in the kitchen to figure out if they had romantic feelings for each other, and they didn’t. They’d just been riding high on the night’s excitement. It was a special night, but Sullivan was heading to Japan. Kia was about to set off in a food truck. (What a shame.) So Sullivan left the story atwe kissed once. She’d dropped the night of kissing and cooking out of the story when she told it to Opal and Nina. Adding it later made it feel too momentous.
God, if Opal knew Sullivan and Kia had kissed more than once, she’d drag Sullivan to the American Fare Awards and ask Kia out for her. If she had to, Opal would send Kia a postcard readingWill you go out with my friend. Check this box.YesNo
“I respected her cooking, so I kissed her.”
Opal raised a naturally arched eyebrow. “As one does.”
Kia would be close to thirty now. Funny to think that twenty-year-old prodigy was a grown woman. If the magazine was any indicator, she still dressed like aFresh Prince of Bel-Airrerun. And it was still cute.
Opal pushed her bright red glasses up again and read from the article. “Kia Jackson, who goes by Kia Gourmazing—”
“Gourmazing?” Sullivan rolled her eyes.
“—made her mark on the street food scene with the tursnicken, a take on the classic turducken. Instead of the usual turkey-duck-chicken combination, Jackson stuffs Snickers bars inside a whole chicken, inserts that into a turkey, and deep-fries. ‘It can be hard to find turkeys large enough,’ Jackson says, ‘but if I can’t find one through my regular vendors, there’s always a local farmer who can hook me up. That’s a beautiful thing about America. We go big.’ Jackson made her mark on the social media scene, jumping onto the newest social media platform U-Spin, and making it her own. ‘I love Insta and the classics,’ Jackson says, ‘but U-Spin is my new love.’”
“You should reach out,” Opal said, closing the magazine.
“Sullivan won’t eat at a food truck. She’s not going to date a food truck owner,” Nina said.
“I said reach out! Not date! Why do you think I’m always trying to set her up?” Opal’s freckles rearranged themselves to spell the wordinnocence.
“You’ve tried to set Sullivan up with every woman on your rugby team. And you said she has feelings for Kia.”
“Hadfeelings,” Opal said.
“I did not have ‘feelings.’” Sullivan putfeelingsin air quotes.
“I didn’t try to hook her up with Megan,” Opal said to Nina, ignoring Sullivan. “Megan has a girlfriend.”
“Okay, you tried to set her up with the other four hundred women on your team,” Nina countered.
“Fifteen plus alternates,” Opal said firmly. “But you could rekindle your old flame if you wanted to.” Opal adjusted her glasses. “You own Mirepoix. You could get a ticket to the award ceremony.”
“They’d probably let you give a speech,” Nina added.
“You were friends,” Opal said. “It’d be nice.”
“It’d be weird.” Sullivan sank her knuckles into the dough.
“Or DM her and say,Congrats on American Fare,” Opal suggested.
