33. Foster
THIRTY-THREE
FOSTER
I could kick myself for bringing up kids. Things were going well until I mentioned her own. Maybe she doesn’t want them and she’s over telling people that.
“I think the oil is ready,” she nods toward the pan.
I look at her for a second longer before I turn back to the stove and start adding in the patties. I watch as she stirs the jam and garlic together and then hand her a bottle of soy sauce. “About ten shakes should do.”
She counts as she shakes the bottle, eyebrows drawn together in determination. I pull out my Microplane and a knob of ginger from my freezer and begin grating it into the bowl of sauce Sophie’s back to mixing together.
“That’s good,” I tell her, taking the bowl and setting it next to the pan before turning back to her. “What’s up, Soph?” I lean next to her fighting the urge to cross my arms or pull her into them.
“Nothing,” she says, smiling at me quickly before turning on the sink and beginning to wash things.
She’s lying. Something is clearly wrong, but I’m not going to force her to tell me. Instead of pressing, I carry on like nothing is wrong. I grab another frying pan and add it to the stove top. The sound of the meat cooking and garlic hitting hot oil are the only sounds in the entire apartment. Sophie and I don’t have trouble talking. We haven’t since the day we met as kids. Even on our first day together as adults, we filled the silence with words and laughter.
“Do you want to do the beans?” I ask while she’s drying her hands.
She looks over at me and then down at the pan. “If you think I can handle it.”
I roll my eyes and hand her the steamed beans. “I think you can handle anything. Add these into the pan and give it a stir.” She does as I instruct, and I hand her a jar of dried chilies followed by a small bottle of sesame oil. “Once there’s a bit of wrinkle to those beans, add in a drizzle of the oil and pull off the heat.”
While she does that, I finish the pork, dumping the sauce she made into the pan and spooning it over the caramelized patties.
“That smells amazing,” she says, leaning a bit into my space with her hand resting on my lower back.
The tension I caused seems to have evaporated, and we move around one another with ease with me plating our food while she sorts out the cutlery.
“Holy mother of mercy, this is incredible,” she moans after taking a bite of the meat and mashed potatoes. “Can you cook for me every night?” she asks in a tone that makes it hard to tell if she’s serious or not.
“No, but I will cook with you every night.” I mean it as a joke—well, kind of—but it comes out seriously, and I watch as Sophie’s chewing slows and her gaze moves up from her plate to my face. My god, she’s pretty.
“I can think of worse things than cooking with a friend.” No one has ever hit me as hard at the gym as the word “friend.” It’s a knockout punch.
“Sophie!” my friends call out as we arrive at the game.
“I guess I’ve been replaced,” I jest, following Sophie into the row.
“Jealous?” she asks over her shoulder.
Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I bend to kiss her neck. “There’s no one I’d rather come second to,” I murmur against her skin, and I swear I can feel goose bumps rise beneath my lips. It’s cold in here, that’s all, I tell myself.
“You two are so damn adorable,” Maria coos, smiling over at me like a proud parent.
We sit, and Sophie immediately slides her hand into mine, bringing them to rest on her thigh. “Oh, we know.” I think about how amazing it would feel to be able to lean in and kiss her. Not on the cheek or the neck, but right on those perfect rosy lips.
I won’t, though—that’s my boundary. A line I can’t cross for my own sanity. I know that if I do, there will be no coming back from it and putting that on either of us isn’t fair. So I’ll press my lips to her neck and that perfect jaw. I’ll hold her hand whenever it’s near, and I’ll wrap my arms around her and keep her close. But I will not kiss those lips.
Watching Sophie get into the game this time is mesmerizing. It’s like the concert all over again, but she’s yelling things, the odd obscenity slipping out when she disagrees with a call or lack of one.
“You’re very creative with the words, sunshine,” I say when she sits back after one particular turn of phrase that has many of the shoulders in our section bouncing with laughter.
“I learned everything I know from my mother.” I try and imagine seeing Nancy Hore standing and hollering at the field of play and can’t seem to. But then again, I also would have a hard time believing that Sophie was so good at it if I wasn’t witnessing it with my own eyes.
“You’re full of surprises, eh?”
Her reply comes in the slight tilt of her lips and the bounce of an eyebrow and it leaves me shifting in my seat. I force myself to think of Gary attacking my foot before dawn this morning. Anything to avoid trying to figure out what that look means. Because if I allow myself an inch of space to think about what it means, I may come up with all the ways this woman could surprise me behind closed doors. All the little things I could discover in the name of intimacy.
“Oh shit!” I hear from beside me and look up to find Nick standing there with a tray of drinks. “I didn’t know you two were here, or I would have grabbed you hot chocolate too.”
“All good. I’ll run up to get us some,” I say as Sophie and I stand to let him pass. “You want one, right?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
Everything about her response is innocent. There is nothing suggestive in her tone or smile, and yet I’m desperately reaching for thoughts that take me away from her. That container in the back of my fridge I’m afraid to open does the trick.
You’re going to mess this up, the little voice I’ve been good at ignoring whispers. And what exactly am I going to mess up? Our friendship? My heart? Too late for that one; my heart has been all-in since she walked into that classroom. She’s going to walk away from this, and no matter what I’ll be a bit broken. But if she walks away feeling a bit more put together, then every crack I sustain will be worth it.
“Tonight was fun,” Sophie says as I pull into her driveway.
“Even though they lost?”
She rolls her head so she’s looking at me and I sit back and do the same. Sitting like this in the dark car feels more intimate than about every touch we’ve shared yet. I don’t want her to get out and go into her house. I want to stay here like this, Sophie and me.
“Yeah, which I guess is a testament to how awesome you and your friends are.” Sophie liking my friends lights something in my chest. Hope, maybe?
“Well, you make it easy for them to be awesome.” We sit smiling at one another, and I wait for it to get uncomfortable. But as I watch her watch me, it gets easier. Like sinking into a hot tub after a long run, or that first sip of the most delicious hot chocolate. Looking at Sophie fills me with only good feelings.
Her eyes travel to my lips, and a soft sigh leaves through hers. “I should go in. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.” She doesn’t move, though, and neither do I. “What’s on the docket for J?” she asks after a couple minutes of silence.
“Junk,” I reply.
“Junk? As in?” she prompts.
“Sunday yard sales. If you’re around Sunday.”
“I have brunch with my friends, but you can come if you want. I feel like I’m always with your friends.”
“I want you to be there,” I admit.
“I want you to meet mine. We can never have too many, right?”
“I’ve heard that,” I say as I get out of the car.
She steps out, and automatically her hand slips into mine when she meets me at the front of the car. This is too easy. It’s too natural, the voice taunts.
I look at our hands as we walk up her front path. So close. Fake. Fake. Fake.
She drops my hand when we get to the door so she can slip her key into the lock. I watch as she turns and casually leans against the door frame. She’s so effortlessly elegant, even in her casual clothes. I’m amazed anyone buys us as a couple. She’s out of my league in every single demographic.
“What?” she asks, her head tipping to the right, sharp blue eyes narrowed in concern.
I shake my head, feeling a bit dazed. “Nothing, just wondering how to say goodnight to you in an intimately appropriate way.” I step forward and lower my forehead to hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sunshine.” I kiss her forehead and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, letting my hand slowly trail away from her body as I step back.
That look is still on her face, and I hate that I’ve caused her any worry. “See you tomorrow, Foster,” she says quietly before stepping through the door and closing it. I don’t move until I hear the sound of the lock sliding into place.
I’m so screwed.