“What are you guys going to eat then?” I ask.
“There’s been a change of plans. Heath can’t make it, so I’m solo tonight.” He grins and he notices the flour and oil. “You’re going to make homemade pizza?” His eyes light up. “I haven’t had homemade pizza in forever.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Me either,” I say and brush past him to find the rest of the ingredients I’ll need to make the dough. “I hope you have yeast here,” I say.
“What?” he asks.
“Yeast. I need yeast for the dough.” I open the pantry and immediately find all of the baking supplies. You can tell my aunt is in charge of food shopping and organizing the pantry; it makes it easy to find things. “Here it is,” I say and swipe the small packet from a plastic bin on the shelf.
He raises his hands in the air and says, “I’m no good here. This is all you. But you really don’t have to make me anything. I can order something.”
Everything else I need is within reach, and I have the ingredients arranged on the center island, ready for me.
“Where’s Kai?” he asks.
“In there. Asleep.” I motion toward the den and pick up my phone. He’s watching me with amusement as I re-read the recipe. I open the flour, measure out what’s needed for the dough, and dump it into the stainless steel bowl in front of me.
“How was he today?” he asks.
I look up and swipe my hand across my forehead. I should have put my hair up.
“His day was okay,” I say and dump the rest of the ingredients into the bowl.
“Just okay?” He looks disappointed. “Where’s Nadia?” he asks, and I look up again. A large curl has fallen in front of my face, partially blocking my view of him. I attempt to brush it away and at the same time get the flour mixture on myself. His smile grows and he takes a couple of steps toward me.
“She had to cancel tonight,” I say and tense up as he gets closer. Why is he looking at me like that? “And Kai had his ups and downs.”
“You’ve got… something on your face.” He grins as he reaches out. He softly brushes the flour from my face, and I feel like I’m swaying in place.
“Th—thanks,” I stammer as he tucks the nuisance curl behind my ear. His hand lingers for a moment and then he steps away.
“I think I should help,” he says. “You’re a bit of a mess already.”
“Why don’t you grate the cheese? There’s a brick of mozzarella inside the top drawer in the refrigerator.” I assemble the hand mixer and plug it in.
“Do I have a cheese grater?” he asks, and I try to stifle a giggle.
“You really don’t spend much time in your own kitchen, do you?” I ask.
“I’m in here all the time. I just don’t know where anything is. Your aunt makes sure I don’t have to worry about any of that.” He seems embarrassed and drops his head.
I tap the drawer next to me. “Cheese grater’s in here. It’s a flat, rectangular, metal thingy,” I say, just in case he’s never seen one before.
“I know what a cheese grater looks like, Sam. I just didn’t realize I had one.” He brushes past me and opens the drawer. “See.” He points. “It’s right there.” He’s standing next to me and starts his chore. I smirk as I turn on the mixer. His elbow bumps into mine as he’s working, but I don’t move.
“Sorry,” he says, and I look over at him. Now he’s grinning, and I know that I didn’t really hurt his feelings. I bump my elbow into his on purpose and he smiles. He’s feverishly grating the cheese, and soon a large pile is on the plate in front of him.
“Enough?” he asks, and I nod. He brushes up against my side and peeks into bowl. “That doesn’t look like much dough,” he says.
“That’s what the yeast is for,” I reply and dump the packet into the mixture. “Once this is all blended together, the dough will begin to rise. It should take about an hour and then we’ll be able to make our pizza.”