Chapter Thirty-Three
T hat Sunday, I tell Marcia I’ll make dinner (with Carley’s help).
Carley has three older sisters and about a hundred cousins (no exaggeration).
The huge extended family lived on the same street while she was growing up and would rotate preparing meals they’d eat together as one big unit.
Suffice it to say, Carley’s cooking expertise is on par with her makeup skills.
With her guidance via FaceTime, I’m making her family’s lasagna recipe.
When she texted me the list of ingredients this morning, she promised it was simple…
easy for her to say… which is exactly what I told her when she suggested it instead of the more straightforward spaghetti and tomato sauce.
But she convinced me to try it, along with garlic bread and a salad, and so far her cooking tutorial has been seamless to follow.
I’ve already made the sauce, boiled the noodles, and assembled the cheese, and now I’m layering everything in a rectangular pan.
Just because cooking doesn’t come naturally to me doesn’t mean I can’t get better with practice, and Marcia is worth the effort.
What I’m wearing while doing it, however, is entirely for Adam’s benefit (or detriment, depending on how you look at it).
During a video tour of my wardrobe, Carley suggested a low-cut, tightly fitted white tank top because it shows off my cleavage.
I paired it with short frayed hot-pink denim shorts in case Adam is a leg man.
Having slept with him several times, I’m pretty sure he’s equally turned on by all my body parts.
“What if he made other dinner plans?”
“As soon as he sees your top, he’ll break them,” she says without blinking.
Just then, he walks into the kitchen, filling the space with his large frame.
“Gotta go.” I end the FaceTime call and remind myself to pretend I’m comfortable using my body to manipulate Adam.
It’s not like he doesn’t have it coming.
He did it first! Like Sydney Sweeny said in her interview with Glamour magazine, “A woman having large breasts makes men stupid.” That’s what me and my 34Cs are here for.
To that end, I lean over the kitchen island and greet him with a simple “Hey.”
Wearing a My Chemical Romance T-shirt and black sweatpants, Adam’s sex appeal is less blatant than mine today, which doesn’t make him any less hot, but hopefully means he’s off his game.
He hops onto a stool on the other side of the counter from me. “Cooking dinner for Marcia tonight?”
I shake an imaginary Magic 8 Ball and pretend to peer into it. “It is decidedly so.”
His gaze dips to my cleavage and he swallows hard.
I bite my lip to keep from smiling.
It takes him less than a second to recover and when he looks up again, there’s a glint in his eyes. “How’s it going?”
I gesture toward the lasagna pan. “I’d say it’s going well.”
“It’s very ambitious of you. I’d have thought you’d start with simple penne and sauce.”
“Go big or go home.” I push out my breasts and watch his gaze dip again.
His tongue darts out and wets his lower lip. “Great motto.”
“You want to join us?”
He doesn’t flinch. “If I’m invited.”
“The more, the merrier.”
I “accidentally” knock a fork off the island and bend down exaggeratedly to retrieve it from the floor.
Adam beats me to it. We lock eyes.
“What are you doing, Sabrina?” His voice is husky as he kneels with his hands on his thighs.
Also kneeling at his eye level, I don’t look away. “I’m making dinner, Adam. I thought we established that already.”
He hands me the fork. “To me. What are you doing to me ?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
We straighten our backs at the same time.
Adam steps closer to me. “I hope your plan doesn’t backfire.”
I look up at him as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. “I’m highly confident it won’t.” I’m such a ginormous liar, my nose is probably growing at this very moment.
“You said yourself that you’re a disaster in the kitchen.”
“If you can follow a dog treat recipe, I can follow one for lasagna.”
We stand off for a few seconds. I will myself not to be the first to break eye contact.
Finally, Adam takes a step back. “Good luck.” He smirks and leaves me alone.
I put the lasagna in the oven and start cutting vegetables for the salad, but my hands keep shaking so I put down the knife for a break.
What am I even doing? Do I really think making a good meal for Marcia is the key to not losing the apartment to Adam?
But I’ve committed to this plan and, unlike Adam, when I commit to something, I don’t quit.
I pick up the knife and resume slicing a cucumber as Adam comes back in, opens the refrigerator, sticks his head inside, and closes it again.
“Don’t ruin your appetite or you won’t be hungry for dinner.”
“Thanks for the advice.” He opens the pantry and removes a bag of Cheetos before walking out again.
Rude.
Less than five minutes later, he comes back and returns the Cheetos to the pantry.
A few minutes after that , he returns and hovers while I wash leaves of romaine.
“Wet lettuce. Yum.”
I let the knife drop to the granite with a thud.
“I’m just saying.” He laughs and leaves again.
I’m so close to losing my mind after he comes in and out two more times that I call Carley for reinforcements.
“I have an idea,” she says.
I howl when she tells me what it is. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem too sanitary to me.”
“It’s fine. Just don’t put it near the food.”
“Okay.” I end the call and take a deep breath in and out.
Talk about committing. I reach behind me with both arms and unsnap my bra.
Then I pull it out from under my tank top.
After pausing a second to consider, I shove it in a drawer with the take-out menus and turn around just as Adam returns, right on schedule.
“Here to give me more unsolicited advice?”
He lifts his empty glass of water. “Nope. Just need a re—” His eyes drop to my chest and he bangs into a kitchen chair. “ Jesus .”
Priceless is more like it. I beam. “You all right?”
Marcia enters the kitchen wearing black yoga pants and a baggy yellow hoodie. Her blond hair is pulled off her face with a floral headband. “It smells delicious in here!”
My breath hitches and I quickly wrap my arms around my chest. Carley’s brilliant idea didn’t account for Marcia walking in on me while I’m wearing an obscenely tight tank top without a bra, but it’s not like I can put it back on without her noticing.
“Thank you! It will be ready in about an hour,” I say, attempting to act normal.
“It does smell good. I’m so hungry. Can I have a veggie to tide me over?” Adam’s eyes dance.
I plant on a smile. “Help yourself.”
“Can you hand it to me?”
Ignoring him, I turn to Marcia. “The lasagna is vegetarian for heart health.”
“How thoughtful of you.” Her eyes drop to my arms still wrapped protectively around my chest and her brows furrow. “Are you cold?”
Adam waves his hand in front of his face like a fan. “It’s actually really hot in here. Are you coming down with something?”
“I hope not,” Marcia says.
“I’m fine.”
Over her head, Adam shakes his head and mouths, “Bad girl.”
I shrug. Guilty.
Less than an hour later, dinner is ready, and the table is set. I realize I still haven’t put my bra back on and am about to remove it from the drawer.
“I’m so excited for this dinner, Sabrina!” Marcia says from behind me.
I throw my arms around my chest, turn around, and face my roommate… both of them. She’s beaming at me. Adam mirrors my stance with his arms crossed and smiles knowingly.
Fake it till you make it. “Sit! Both of you. I’ll be back in a second.
Just need to use the bathroom.” Covering my tits, I scurry out of the kitchen and to my room, where I whip off the tank top and exchange it for a bra and an oversize sweatshirt.
But then I think better of it and put the tank top back on over the bra.
Why not make Adam sweat through dinner? Since I really do need to pee, I use the bathroom and join them in the kitchen, where they’re both already seated at the table.
“I found this in a drawer,” Adam says, dangling my bra in the air. “I assume it’s yours?”
Marcia laughs. “It’s definitely too sexy to be mine.”
“Weird. I wonder how it got there.” I remove the garlic bread from the oven while my face burns as hot as the food. “I’m surprised you had enough confidence in me to look forward to this,” I say to Marcia, quickly changing the subject.
“I have the utmost faith in you.” She makes a move to get up, but I stop her.
“Let me know what you need. I’ll get it.”
She opens her mouth but I cut her off, knowing what she’s going to say. “Not because of your health but because this dinner is my full responsibility from start to finish.”
She sighs and sits back down. “If you insist. I was going to get the creamy Italian dressing for the salad.”
“Got it,” I say, grabbing the dressing from the side compartment of the fridge.
“Do we have Parmesan cheese?” Adam asks.
I snort, recalling how often he shoved his head in the refrigerator while I was preparing dinner. “I’d think you’d have memorized the contents of the refrigerator by now, but yes, we do.” I remove the container and bring it to the table.
My butt is about to hit the chair when he says, “How about wine?”
I freeze. “I forgot about it.” I bring over a new bottle of malbec and a corkscrew and hand them to him.
Adam looks from me to the bottle and back to me. “Are you going to open it?”
Still standing, I place my palms on the table. “Do you not know how to work a corkscrew?”
His eyes drop to my chest and back up. “It’s a twist-off.”
I breathe calmly through my nose. “Are you not strong enough to open it?”
His lips twitching, Adam says, “I didn’t want to be presumptuous. You said you were responsible for the entire dinner.”
“What is going on between you two lately?”