12. Nora
12
NORA
L etting myself into Alex’s empty house feels weird. I use the garage code he gave me to carry in a couple of crates of groceries and get set up. It doesn’t take long, and a glance at my watch reveals that I still have almost half an hour until he’s supposed to be home. I get myself a glass of water and settle onto a bar stool to wait, but after a few minutes, I hop back up. I’m restless this afternoon and before I know it, I’m wandering through his house, getting a better sense of him. I stick to the main parts of the house—primarily the open living area and a bright, comfortable sunroom I find at the end of a hallway.
His style is borderline minimalist. The only decorations I see are photos hung here and there, though the furniture is tasteful and good quality. The house is neat and clean, at least in the areas I can see. I’m not nosy enough to go looking through the bedrooms that open up off the hallway, although a glance through a few open doors gives me a pretty good idea of which room is Alex’s. It’s the room that looks the most lived in, though still neat, and it definitely smells like him. I pause in the doorway and inhale, enjoying the spicy, slightly citrusy scent that I associate with Alex.
The sound of a car pulling into the garage has me scrambling for the kitchen like a scared rabbit. The last thing I want is for Alex to know I was standing outside his room sniffing like the creeper he joked about when we first met. I slide onto a stool and rest one elbow casually on the island, the other loosely gripping my water glass.
Nothing to see here. I’ve just been sitting here waiting. Right here. The whole time.
“Hi!” I chirp a little too brightly when Alex walks in.
“Hi, Ellie.” He grins back at me, watching for my reaction.
Since I still haven’t decided on the nickname thing, I let it pass. “Have a good day?”
“I’ve been dreaming about cooking a tasty dinner all day, if that answers your question. What are we making today?”
“I hope you like teriyaki,” I say, lifting a bottle of sauce from the counter in front of me. “We’re making beef and broccoli teriyaki ramen.”
His smile widens and his eyes sparkle. “Sounds delicious. Just let me go change out of my work clothes real quick and we can get started.”
I give him a double thumbs up and move to plug in my new toy while he’s gone, gathering all the necessary ingredients on the counter beside it.
“What’s this?” Alex asks as soon as he returns.
“It’s a double burner hot plate,” I explain proudly. “I got it so we can cook things right here on the countertop where the light is better. Plus, we won’t have to move the tripods back and forth between here and the stove, which will give our videos continuity since they’ll all be filmed in the same spot.”
He nods approvingly. “Smart. I like it.”
I hand him the white apron he wore before, another thing intended to increase continuity, and surreptitiously appraise him as he ties it on. He’s changed into khaki shorts and an aqua-colored polo shirt that stretches across his shoulders appealingly and highlights the golden tan of his skin. I think he must spend a lot of time in that pool of his. I look away before he can catch me staring and busy myself with clipping our phones into the tripods.
“We’ll need a medium-sized saucepan and a large skillet,” I tell Alex, and he hurries to fetch them. The saucepan I fill halfway with water and place it on the hotplate alongside the empty skillet. I smooth my hair back and turn to Alex.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
I click the remote and launch into what is becoming our standard intro.
“Hello and welcome to From Couch to Potatoes ! I’m Nora, this is Alex, and we’re so glad you’re joining us today.”
After explaining how we’ll be upgrading a plain package of ramen noodles, I start giving Alex instructions for how to brown the ground beef and cook the noodles. The broccoli we steam in the microwave—this show is all about making cooking accessible, after all—and add it to the beef and drained noodles in one pot. I direct him to pour in the teriyaki sauce and toss it all together.
“Alright, Alex.” I heap some onto a small plate and hand it to him with a fork. “Give it a try and let the people know what you think.”
Alex twirls some noodles onto his fork and takes a bite. “Excellent. Beef, broccoli, noodles…what’s not to love?” He takes another bite and mmm ’s with genuine enthusiasm.
We close out the show and I click the camera off.
“I know you have another recipe planned for tonight, but can we just enjoy this first?” Alex heaps another helping of ramen onto his plate and perches on a stool. “This is delicious and I’m starving.”
“I’m pretty hungry myself.” I scoop some out onto another plate. “I’ll try not to eat too much so I’m not in breach of contract since this food is all yours per our agreement.”
His eyes dart to my face, a wrinkle of concern creasing his forehead until my smile tells him I’m kidding. He plays along with a wave of his hand. “I’m feeling magnanimous tonight. Eat as much as you want, doll.”
“Doll? What happened to Ellie?”
“Decided it didn’t fit so I’m trying something new. Don’t worry, I’ll find the perfect nickname for you.”
I’m not worried, but I’m starting to wonder if I should be. I didn’t realize this was going to be a whole thing. But I guess it doesn’t really matter since there’s no one else around to hear it if he calls me something ridiculous.
“Call me whatever you like, just don’t call me late for dinner,” I tell him as I sit beside him, drawing on something my dad used to say. The memory sends a twinge of guilt through me. I haven’t talked to my parents in a while. I should probably call them and see how they’re doing, but then they’ll want to talk about me and what I’m doing, and that’s a topic I’ve been avoiding for about three years.
I push those thoughts away. Right now, I need to focus on why I’m here.
“I think that episode went pretty well.” I take another bite of noodles. “And this next one should be pretty quick to record.”
“What are we making?”
“You mean what are you making. I’m coaching you through doing it yourself, remember?” I’ve been trying to be as hands-off as possible during the episodes, letting Alex follow my instructions and prepare each dish himself. I want anyone watching to know that they can cook these recipes too, even if they are beginners.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But it feels like we’re cooking together.”
A vision pops into my mind of Alex and me in his kitchen without cameras, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the stove. Alex is smiling at me while he stirs something that smells amazing. When I lean in to look at it, he lifts the spoon and offers me a taste. It’s almost like a memory…except it never happened.
“Hey, are you okay?” Alex’s brow is wrinkled with concern. “You look like something is bothering you.”
I shake my head quickly and force a chuckle. “I’m fine. I was…thinking about editing the video we just shot.”
He eyes me for a moment more, probably trying to figure out why I’m acting strange. Me too, buddy, me too. I don’t know where that pseudo-memory came from, but it will be a while before I forget the warm, tingly way it made me feel.
“So, what are we making?”
I blink at him for a moment before I realize he’s ready to move on to the next recipe. “Oh, right. We’re going to make a dessert. There won’t be leftovers of this one, though.”
“That good, huh?” He smirks and raises an eyebrow.
I laugh. “It is good, but the reason there won’t be leftovers is because it’s a single serving. We’ll make two, of course, so I can have one too.”
“And this single serving of dessert will be…?”
“A chocolate peanut butter mug brownie.”
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds amazing.”
I slap my knees and push myself off my stool. “We’d better get started then.”
Alex reaches over and grabs my empty plate, stacking it on top of his. “I’ll load the dirty stuff in the dishwasher while you get set up for the brownies.”
He whistles while he works, and I find I like the cheeriness of the sound as I move around the kitchen, pulling out what we’ll need and arranging it on the island.
Alex dries his hands and comes to stand beside me, still wearing his apron. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a man who looked better in an apron, even when I was in school. I might not have seen a better-looking man, period. I mean, I remember noticing how attractive he was when we first met, but I have to admit that the guy’s growing on me, and the apron doesn’t hurt anything.
I push an empty mug in front of him and center the second one in front of myself.
We’re ready to roll.