FIVE Sebastian
Nate the Great
Seb ran into Quincy at the grocery store.
Coop There It Is
And the earth is still rotating? Impressive.
How did it go?
She asked about my inflated ego. I said she must think about me when I’m not around.
The games are just beginning, boys.
“Admit it.” Cooper doles out a ladle of chili into a Styrofoam bowl. He spins the dish around, inspects it, then flicks off a rogue piece of chopped onion. “This is top-tier entertainment.”
“Standing over a portable stove in ninety-five-degree weather is fun?” Nate fans his face. He scowls and reaches for his water bottle, downing half the drink. “I work in front of an oven every day and I’m bordering on a heatstroke. This was a stupid idea.”
“Which is worse?” I ask. “The open flame or having to talk to people and act like you’re having a good time?”
“The people. Mrs. Johnson, one of the regulars at the greenhouse, stopped by ten minutes ago. I went through an interrogation where she asked if I’m planning on settling down one of these days or if a bouquet of coreopsis will read the eulogy at my funeral because I’m going to die alone.”
“You’ll be back with your plants soon, but both of you could use the camaraderie.
” Cooper motions to the city park swarming with people.
He waves at someone sitting in a fold-up chair on the grass then fixes the apron tied around his neck until the strings are arranged in a neat bow.
“Sebby is a resident in a city of eight million. He doesn’t get a lot of closeness these days. ”
“Please. There’s plenty of camaraderie.” I sprinkle shredded cheese in the bowl Coop dished out and drop a spoon in it, proud of my contribution to the group project. “Many things around Manhattan don’t involve an open flame.”
“True.” Coop tops the dish with a lime wedge and gives his plating a thumbs-up. “But now you’re with your best friends. You can’t beat that, can you?”
“Aren’t y’all cute?” Mia’s voice rings in my ears, appearing at our table with ink stains on her fingers and her curls pulled away from her face.
“The three of you together is a recipe for disaster, and I hear you’re already heading that way.
Bothering my best friend in the grocery store the second you get back to town, Seb? That’s not very nice.”
“Who said anything about bothering? I happened to run into her in a public place. Last I checked, that wasn’t against the law. And it wasn’t the second I got back to town. I had breakfast first.” I flash my sister a smile when she rolls her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping the girls beat your sorry asses in the cook-off.”
She points to the other side of the park, and it’s the first time I’ve looked past the charcuterie boards spread out on picnic blankets and the band set up on a small stage.
It’s also the first time I’m noticing Quincy, dark hair up in a bun on top of her head.
Jean shorts covering tan skin. Long denim threads brushing against the tops of her thighs.
I drag my eyes away from her stomach and the sliver of exposed skin under the hem of her shirt, knowing if I get caught staring, I might end up with a bowl of chili in my face.
I distract myself by grabbing the knife Cooper set out and slicing a lime in two.
It’s better than paying attention to what’s happening over there.
How Quincy is talking to the people who come up to her table and gesturing to the sky, then the trees.
The way she laughs at a story Harlow is telling, her shoulders shaking from the punch line of a joke I can’t hear.
I cut a second lime, then a third, not glancing up until I have a whole army of citrus in front of me.
“Why is your face red?” Cooper touches my cheeks, panic in his tone. “Are you sick? Oh, fuck. Are you allergic to something in the chili?”
“I’m fine. Whoever decided to have this cook-off when the Florida heat could rival the pits of hell is an idiot,” I say.
“I hope you’re not going to complain at my wedding next summer.” Mia frowns. Cooper drops the metal pot topper he’s holding on the table, mumbling out an apology before busying himself with a roll of paper towels. “The only time the gardens were available was in July.”
“Because no one in their right mind would get married outside in Florida in July.” I sneak another glance across the way, finding a guy in khaki shorts and a polo tucked into his pants lingering around Quincy’s table.
He’s not being very discreet, trying to strike up a conversation with her in between the bowls of food she’s handing out then slinking away when she passes him a napkin.
“I’ll keep my mouth shut about the statistical likelihood of rain on your wedding day. ”
“And with that promise, I’m leaving to join the girls. Y’all are on your own.” Mia turns and offers the three of us a wave. “I hope you lose.”
“Give Quincy my best,” I call out. “And ask if I’ll ever get out of her head.”
“You know Quincy?” The man with the polo shirt replaces Mia at our table, and I want to know how the hell he moved so quickly. There’s a nervous energy about him, a demand in his question I don’t like. “I’m a physicist at UCF, and I’ve been following her work for years. She’s great, isn’t she?”
“Quincy? She’s …” I trail off, gaze flicking back to her table.
This time, she’s watching me. Eyes narrowed, a hand on her hip.
A smile curving on her mouth, and I roll my shoulders back.
“Sorry, man. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she’s …
how do I put this without making things awkward? You know she likes weather, right?”
“Yeah.” The man rocks forward on the balls of his feet, stepping closer. “I’ve watched her show. It’s impressive how she makes wind shear sound interesting.”
“She really likes weather.”
“I’m not following.”
“She likes weather to the point of being attracted to it. Tornadoes. Tsunamis. Global warming. It’s what she visualizes during … you know.”
He wrinkles his nose. Shuffles back and pats at the line of sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. “During sex?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m open-minded, but that’s not something I’d be into. Would she—does she like when someone is the tornado?”
“I guess? We can’t all be perfect.” I grab a bowl of chili and hand it to him. “My condolences, dude.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. Tornadoes. Huh.” He shakes his head and makes a U-turn away from Quincy’s table. The napkin she handed him gets tossed in a trash can. Smugness rolls through me. “Never would’ve thought.”
When Quincy locks eyes with me again, I give her an obnoxious wave. She answers by flipping me off with a proud swish of her wrist, and standing out in the heat suddenly got a lot more fun.
Three hours and a sunburn on the back of my neck later, Cooper unties his apron and drops it on the table.
“Could you clean up? I need to head to the station for an overtime shift.” He unrolls a knife bag I’d expect a Michelin-star chef to carry around and taps three empty slots. “Knives go in here. You can drop everything in the sink back at my place. I’ll deal with it later.”
“You’re letting me live with you free of charge, which makes me responsible for cleaning up and doing the dishes.
Hell. I’d do it even if I paid rent. I have a roof over my head.
I don’t have to live down the hall from my sister or mother.
You’re the reason we won first place in the cook-off.
So many good things.” I untie my own apron and cut off the flame on the portable stove.
The air around me instantly cools, a deep breath loosening itself from my chest with the June breeze.
Nate was smart to escape when he did. He would’ve hated the ribbon ceremony.
“When did you become a culinary aficionado? We lived on nothing but fast food in our early twenties.”
“That was before my metabolism slowed. I can’t put down ten Taco Bell burritos anymore.”
“That’s sad, isn’t it?”
“So sad. Cooking gives me something to do at the station in my free time, and it saves me from getting dragged into making videos with the younger guys. You know I hate the spotlight, and they’re constantly posting on social media.”
“The year you end up in the firefighters’ calendar is going to be the highlight of my life. I hope you’re holding a litter of kittens when you pose shirtless.”
“Shut up.” The tips of Cooper’s ears turn red. He smiles at my sister making her way toward us and jangling her keys. “I’ll catch a ride to the station with Mia so you can take the truck to my place. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow.”
“Going to miss you, sweetheart. I won’t wait up.” I laugh, but the joke hollows out when I remember what he does. How he puts himself in danger to help others. “Be safe, man.”
“I’ll try. I have important things waiting for me at home.” His blue eyes gleam for the heartbeat of a second, some secret hidden beneath the surface he’s not ready to share with me yet, but he covers it up with a lazy grin. “And you be nice.”
“Nice? I’m always nice.”
“Sure you are.”
He gestures to his left. Quincy is walking our way, determination in her gait. The defiant look in her brown eyes tells me she’s gearing up for a fight, and fuck if that attitude doesn’t make my smile turn into a beam.
“Look who it is,” I say.
“Still up from the Underworld I see.” Quincy tips her head to the side. “What do you have to do to stay in Satan’s good graces, Dunn? Sell your soul to eternal damnation? It’d be nice if you could hurry up and sacrifice yourself. Our town is a much more pleasant place without you inhabiting it.”
“Good to see you again, Monroe. I knew you couldn’t resist coming over. The four hours we spent apart were too much for me too.”
“It’s a wonder you don’t get a migraine from how big your head is.” She sighs, the hint of exhaustion behind the exhale. “Congratulations on the win. I’m convinced you paid someone to seal your victory, but Harlow and Mia said your chili actually tasted good.”