6. Mia
MIA
"Does it always smell that good?" I asked Aaron. It was Tuesday night—my first household dinner. Diego was in the kitchen cooking, and the smells that floated into the dining room were mouthwatering.
"Yes," Aaron said. "At least when someone other than me cooks."
"I know the feeling."
Diego had waved off Aaron and me when we offered to help in the kitchen, but he’d given us another task. During the weekdays, the dining room often served as a study room. On Tuesday nights, it had to be put back so that everyone could eat together.
Bookcases lined one wall. Unlike the shelves in the pantries, these actually had labels so that residents could keep their textbooks there if they liked.
However, it looked like those labels hadn’t been updated in years.
I was pretty sure none of the students listed there still lived in the house.
In fact, half of them were probably retired by now.
"So this room is kind of..." I trailed off, not wanting to be insulting.
Aaron filled in the blank. "A huge mess?"
"Well, yeah.”
“It can get that way. Most of us take pretty good care of our rooms, take our turns cleaning the kitchen and all, but this is where we really hit the books. And survive on snacks and energy drinks."
He pointed to a trashcan in the corner that was overflowing with empty cans and bottles. "As you can see."
We worked in silence for a few minutes. I picked up anything off the floor—trash and fallen papers and pens. He cleared the dining room table, putting books, notebooks, and even a laptop on the shelves lining the wall.
The table was old but made of good, sturdy wood. It was oblong, rounded at the ends. I did a quick head count in my mind. If everyone came, there would be seven of us eating here tonight.
There were eight chairs.
Oof. That hit me in the stomach. If Sara was here, one spot would be for her. I wished so much she were here.
Aaron was oblivious to my change in mood. He handily picked up the extra chair and set it in a corner.
I trailed a finger along the tabletop. "We should clean this."
"I thought that’s what we just did.”
"No, we cleared it off. But we should clean it before we start putting food on it—especially food that smells that good."
"Ah, good idea."
He strode into the hallway, opened a small linen closet, and pulled out some cleaning cloths. “We can wet these in the bathroom, so we don’t bother Diego in the kitchen."
That was fine with me. I had to dampen my rag three times before the table seemed clean enough. Then Evan appeared with a stack of heavy ceramic plates that he handed to Aaron. A moment later, he brought a metal canister full of silverware to me.
"Thanks," I said. "I could have come and gotten it, though."
He replied, "Best not to. Diego can be a bit of a tyrant when it’s his turn to cook." Evan’s voice was friendly, but squeaky. He swore that he was eighteen, but he looked about twelve to me. He seemed like a nice guy, just very young.
As for Diego, I couldn’t quite picture him running the kitchen with an iron fist. He seemed so even-keeled—at least when he wasn’t insanely drunk at a party.
"How come you’re allowed in?" I asked, curious but not jealous.
"He said I’m his assistant tonight." He sounded proud.
Aaron laughed. "Which means you’re his flunky."
Evan grinned. "Something like that."
I smiled as he disappeared into the kitchen. He was a cheerful guy, which was more than I could say for some of my new roommates.
Aaron set out plates and I followed, placing the silverware on either side of them. Then he braved the kitchen, returning with a stack of napkins, which we set out.
"I think we’re good here," he said.
Jenna appeared, and I was glad to see that she came to these Tuesday night dinners.
"Good timing," I said as she entered.
She held up her phone, tapping the screen with a fingernail. "Evan sent a group text saying that it was ready."
"There’s a group text for all of us?"
"Yeah, I’ll add you to it."
"Thanks."
Evan came back with a handful of trivets and hot pads that he gave to me. "Can you put these on the table?"
"Sure."
Then he turned to Aaron. "You get the harder job—Diego’s orders."
Aaron grinned. “I don’t see how there could possibly be an easier one.” He winked at me as I spread the hot pads across the table. “What is it?”
"Getting Cody down here."
His face fell. "Crap, that is the harder job." Then he snapped to attention, giving a quick salute. "But I’m on it."
I was curious about seeing Cody again. When I’d noticed the cute guy in the back of the room in my chemistry class, I wasn’t even entirely certain it was him, at first. I’d only seen a brief glimpse of him on Saturday.
He just looked like a quiet guy who kept to himself, which fit what I knew of him.
Talking to him had been a little bit like pulling teeth—but not uncomfortable. Just… surprising. Because of how reserved and closed off he was.
And because he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
I didn’t even think I’d ever described a man as being beautiful, but Cody was.
First were those eyes. They were the kind of light blue that seemed to look right through you.
I couldn’t stop staring at them. Everything about him—his nose, his arched eyebrows, his stubbled jawline…
it was like he’d been given the most pleasing proportions possible.
Trying to get him to talk hadn’t been easy, but I’d very much wanted to. I still wanted to, though I hadn’t seen him since.
It seemed like guys often fell into two categories: either they didn’t want to give you the time of day, or they paid far too much attention—and it was sometimes creepy. So far, no one in the house had fallen into either category as far as I was concerned, including Cody.
If I was honest with myself, I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since yesterday. He had the haunted look I’d seen in some foster kids in the system over the years. I didn’t know what had happened to him, but I was guessing his life hadn’t been filled with puppies, rainbows, and birthday parties.
When he finally arrived, trailing after Aaron, I gave him a friendly smile, but he didn’t look at me. Or any of us, as far as I could tell. But, as I took my seat, I was distracted by the amazing feast that Diego and Evan had brought out.
Practically every inch of the table was filled with food that was colorful, vibrant, and smelled just incredible. I still couldn’t believe a student just a couple of years older than me had made this.
“Wow.” That was all I said. Diego heard me as he emerged from the kitchen and smiled. “Anyone want a beer?”
Several voices said yes, and he clarified: “Anyone over twenty-one want a beer?”
Only Aaron said yes. Then he turned to me, an eyebrow raised.
“I’m twenty,” I said. Plus, after the hangover I’d had after that Halloween party, I didn’t expect to touch alcohol again until I was thirty.
Diego brought in two brown bottles, one for him and one for Diego.
“I had beer all the time at home,” Raymond grumbled.
“You can have a beer in two years,” Diego said. “But you don’t need one to make a toast.” He turned his warm smile on me. “I’d like to officially welcome Mia, the newest resident of Baylor House.”
“To Mia,” everyone echoed.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Aaron said. Several other voices overlapped at once, and even Raymond said something friendly.
“Thank you. I’m very happy to be here.” It was true. Even though I wished with all my heart that Sara was, too.
As if by some unspoken signal, everyone dove in. Aaron handed me each bowl or platter before taking some for himself and then continuing the food counterclockwise. Soon my plate was piled as high as the serving platters.
For a while, the only sounds were people eating and enjoying the meal. There were chicken thighs with some kind of citrus-garlic flavor to them, striped with dark grill marks. I’d seen a grill on the back porch and wondered if Diego had fired that up.
There was also a cast-iron skillet sizzling with fajita vegetables, like onions, zucchini, and brightly colored peppers. The rice was flavored with cilantro and lime, and the beans with bacon pieces in them. Finally, I took a warm tortilla and started filling it.
The first bite was amazing. So was the second.
Like my foster parents’ favorite Mexican restaurant back home. Even better, actually.
“This is incredible,” I said.
“You’ve said that twice already.” Jenna sounded amused.
“Because it’s still true.”
“It’s even more amazing when you actually eat it,” Aaron pointed out. He was already a third of the way through his meal, even though his plate was piled high. Mine was nearly untouched.
“I just can’t decide where to start. I want to try everything.”
Diego set down his beer. “That’s what every cook likes to hear. It’s definitely better than that ‘cilantro tastes like soap’ stuff.” He gave a mock stern look to Raymond, who had also given his opinion on the food more than once.
The chicken was my favorite. After I’d eaten one thigh, I took another, tore some pieces off, and put them in a tortilla. Maybe that wasn’t what you were supposed to do with it, but it tasted so damn good.
Aaron had seconds, and when he was finally winding down, he asked me what I was doing after dinner.
“Homework, I guess.”
“ American Adventures is on tonight. Do you watch it?”
“I love that show!” American Adventure consisted of teams racing from one coast of the United States to the other, with all kinds of crazy tasks and detours along the way.
“Want to watch it together?”
“Of course. Who’s your favorite to win?”
“Blue. Yours?”
“Yellow.” I grinned, feeling more relaxed than I had at any other point in the meal. “They’ll wipe the floor with the blue team.”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Aaron said, somewhat smugly.