Half the audience volunteered.
“Kia can judge,” Sullivan said. “Babe, come over here and taste real food.”
The crowd gave a collective “Ooh.”
“Kia can’t be a fair judge,” someone called out.
“She can when she tastes my sensuous gazpacho,” Sullivan said.
They had had so much fun in school. Why had Sullivan walked away from that?
“You’re going down.” Kia drew out the worddown.
A bar full of U-Haul lesbians got the double entendre. Kia shrugged. The crowd parted to let Kia stroll toward Sullivan.
“Just try my gazpacho, babe.” Sullivan pushed the last cup toward her.
The crowd pressed them together. Someone knocked into Kia. Instinctively Sullivan put a hand on Kia’s back to steady her. But the crowd jostled them, and her hand landed on the curve of Kia’s ass. Soft and firm. Sullivan’s mind stalled like it did when she read a long list of measurements, the letters and numbers knocking up against each other until12 tbecame21 T. A vision of Kia naked inher bed filled Sullivan’s mind, the softness of Kia’s body in repose, light brown skin against white sheets, legs sprawled open. She snatched her hand away.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out before she remembered they were in love.
“Babe, you can grab my ass any time you like.” Kia smirked at Sullivan and made a grabbing motion.
“I did notgrab—”
“Whatever. I don’t mind. You can do it again.”
Sullivan blushed so hard she felt like her cheeks might catch on fire like an ill-fated bananas Foster. Kia bumped her hip against Sullivan’s.
“Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.” In a softer voice, Kia added, “This is fun. I really am happy to be here with you.”
Had her full lips always been a little higher on one side, making her look mischievous?
The sounds around them had once again faded away until Kia projected over the crowd, “Now I will decide the winner.” Kia made a ridiculous show of licking her lips as she tasted Sullivan’s gazpacho. “I’m afraid to say, Sullivan’s got it. Nice job, Chef.”
“You’re going to let me win?”
“No.”
Just like in school. They always knew whose dish was best. And despite all the smack talk, they were too good to each other not to admit it.
The crowd cheered.
“But you only won that round,” Kia said, half to Sullivan and half to the crowd.
Deja kept her camera on them.
“What? Another round?” Sullivan sounded like a kid acting in their first play, but the crowd’s gasps said they believed thewhole act.
“Yes,” Kia said. “I have another dish I want you to taste.”
Another “oooh” from the crowd. The bartender brought over a plate Kia had prepared in Sullivan’s kitchen. Her signature pear Rice Krispies treat, a ring planted prominently on top.
“This is my favorite dish in the world and the very best thing I can give you. And you are my favorite person in the world.”
She took the small plate in both hands and gracefully lowered herself to one knee.
Someone in the crowd squealed, “It’s a ring!”
