16. Nora
16
NORA
W hen I sign in to my YouTube account on my lunch break to check and see how our videos are doing, I am not prepared for the number I see in the little notification bubble. My mouth falls open as I scroll through the list of new subscribers, likes, and comments, and it basically comes unhinged like a snake when I see the number of views on the mug brownie episode we uploaded last week.
The comments are overwhelmingly positive, with people thanking us for posting a simple, tasty recipe and reporting how their attempts turned out. A few people had questions, several along the lines of “What should I do if I’m missing half the ingredients?”. I tamp down my sarcasm to keep from responding, “Go to the grocery store” and politely offer some substitution suggestions instead.
There’s one category of comments that kind of throws me—a surprising number of people commented on Alex, specifically on how attractive he is. As one woman put it, there’s “more than one kind of snack” to be found in our kitchen.
I’m not sure how I feel about these reactions. On the one hand, any engagement with the videos is good for the algorithm, right? And I’m not blind. I know that Alex is objectively hot with his mussed blond hair, easy smile, cool blue eyes, and firm muscles. At the same time, I’m a little miffed that not all the viewers are here for the food, per my intentions. And a small, petty part of me can’t help noticing that there aren’t any comments pertaining to my snackability.
Nevertheless, I can’t wait to tell Alex about how our channel is taking off. I start typing a text to him but change my mind and erase it. I’m going to his house to record another video when I get off work in a few hours and I’d rather tell him in person. I don’t see any reason to mention the comments about him, though. Just the general numbers will be good enough.
With only five minutes until I have to get back to work, I pick up my nearly forgotten sandwich and wolf it down, tucking my phone into my pocket. I float back inside the restaurant on a cloud of excitement, and the rest of my shift passes quickly as I prep for the dinner rush that the next cook will handle, all the while brainstorming more recipes to film.
When I finally get off, I can’t get to Alex’s house fast enough. Normally, I would take a quick shower to get the greasy kitchen smells off before heading his way, but this time I just grab the crates of ingredients I packed up this morning and dash out the door.
I pull up at his house and retrieve one of the crates from my back seat. His front door is unlocked, and I let myself in without knocking. He’s expecting me, so I figure it’s a waste of time and effort for him to come let me in when I’m perfectly capable of turning a doorknob.
“Alex?” I call as I step into the kitchen and lower the crate to the floor beside the island. “Oh, there you are…”
My words trail off as I realize he’s standing in front of the fridge wearing only a towel. I backpedal the way I came, my hands flying up to cover my eyes. “Sorry! Sorry, I should have knocked. I’ll just, uh, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I think I hear Alex call my name, but it’s hard to tell over the pounding of my heart and the slap of my sandals making tracks out the front door.
Back outside, I lean against the far side of my car with my face in my hands, embarrassment pumping through me like the bass at a concert. After waiting what feels like enough time for him to get fully dressed at least twice, I grab the other crate of supplies. This time I approach the door warily, with every intention of knocking and waiting like a normal person, but Alex already has it open before I get to the top of the three-tiered brick steps.
“Hey, why’d you take off?” He smiles casually like nothing just happened.
I blink, confused by the question. “Um, because you were naked.”
He tips his head back and guffaws. “I wasn’t naked, I was wearing a towel.”
“Yeah, but…you were naked underneath!”
“By that definition, we’re all always naked under our clothes,” he replies with a smirk. I blow out a breath. Apparently, it was no big deal in his eyes, and I should probably take a cue from him and let it go, rather than marinating in embarrassment all evening.
“Well, I’m still sorry. I should have knocked, and it won’t happen again.”
Alex reaches out and lifts the crate from my arms, which is a relief. It was starting to get heavy with us just standing out here talking. “Don’t worry about it. I should have put some pants on before I came out for a bottle of water, or locked the door, so that’s my bad. I’m just glad I put the towel on instead of dashing out here au naturel like I almost did.”
“Oh my word,” I squeak. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to picture such an event. If I hear or think the word naked one more time tonight, I’m going to self-destruct. “Can we please stop talking about this now?”
“Sure. Let’s talk about what we’re making tonight. I’m starving.” Alex sets the crate next to the one I carried in and abandoned earlier.
“Oh! That reminds me, I had something I wanted to tell you.” As I unpack the ingredients in the crates, I tell him about my discovery at lunch today. “And when I checked after work, the views had increased another twenty percent. People are actually watching our show, Alex!”
“That’s amazing!” He holds up his hands for a double high-five, and I slap them enthusiastically. “I knew the people would love you.”
“Yeah, they love me alright.” My tone comes out a little on the sarcastic side, and Alex eyes me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think anything is wrong? We got lots of views. That’s great.” I know I’m babbling, but hopefully the words I’m saying and the cheer I’m infusing into my voice will distract him.
“No,” he says slowly. “Something is definitely bothering you. Any chance of you just telling me what it is so I don’t have to keep pestering you to tell me?”
I drop my head and sigh. Maybe I should just get it off my chest. Then the air will be clear and we can concentrate on making another good episode. I don’t want to slow the momentum we’re gaining by losing focus.
“It seems like people like you more than they like me.” I cringe as I hear myself. I sound like I’m in middle school.
“What?” Alex leans back and blinks, clearly surprised. “Why do you think that? Have people been leaving mean comments?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and begins tapping and swiping rapidly, intent on looking for himself.
“No, they haven’t been mean,” I reassure him. “I just think some people might be more focused on you than on the food.”
He’s scrolling through the comments on our latest video now and I can tell the moment he understands what I’m talking about because his eyebrows go up and a smirk tweaks his lips.
“These comments are really something. Like this one, ‘I’d like to cook something up with Alex,’” he reads. “Or how about, ‘Alex can preheat my oven anytime.’” He looks up at me. “What does that even mean?”
“I’m not sure I want to know. My point is, when I first saw all the views and engagement, I thought it was because people were enjoying the recipes and instructions. But it seems like they just enjoy watching you.” That’s the real root of my insecurity, I realize. That people don’t care about the food—only about ogling a hot guy. Which would make me completely superfluous.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” he says dismissively, putting his phone back in his pocket.
I feel my face warming and my jaw tightening. “Seems like it to me.”
“Nah, you’re overthinking this. A few comments don’t mean anything.”
“I think it does,” I say through gritted teeth. “I wanted to create this show to help people, not to showcase a hot guy in the kitchen.”
“You think I’m hot?” His blue eyes are sparkling and his grin is as wide as the Grand Canyon.
“I didn’t say you were hot, they did.” I jab my finger at my phone lying on the counter and turn away, ostensibly to measure a cup of rice for the dish we’re making next. Really, it’s to hide the hot tears pricking my eyes. I blink rapidly to keep them at bay and try to calm myself. I know I’m blowing this out of proportion, but I can’t seem to help it.
“Hey.” Alex’s voice is soft as he steps beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder, gently turning me to face him as he ducks his head to look at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you.”
I sniff. “It’s okay. It’s just that I hate it when people don’t take me seriously.” There’s plenty of history to unpack there, but now isn’t the time. Right now, I just want to move past this and start cooking.
“That’s fair, and again, I’m sorry. I do take you seriously.” Alex leans back against the counter, his gaze never leaving my face. “Sometimes I can get carried away with the joking and teasing. I didn’t mean any harm, but I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again, so how about this? Next time I’m taking it too far or you feel I’m not taking you seriously, you have full permission to shut me up.”
I give him a small smile. “How do you propose I do that?”
“However seems most effective to you. Slap your hand over my mouth, body slam me, whatever.”
Now that’s an interesting visual. “How about something a little less violent, like a code word? You know, in case there are kids around.”
“Good thinking. What should it be?”
“Hmmm.” I tap my chin with my finger and take my time thinking as Alex watches me with an eager smile. “I think I’m going to go with ‘armadillo.’”
“An excellent choice. Armadillos look like tiny armored trucks, so that should stop me in my tracks.”
Now that I’m calm again, I decide to return the favor. “Do you think you need a code word for me? For when I’m overthinking things?”
“Sleepy kitty,” he says without hesitation, and I raise an eyebrow.
“That was quick.”
“Next time you start to worry about something you can’t control—like the comments on these videos—then I’ll say ‘sleepy kitty’ and you can visualize how relaxing it would be to cuddle up with a drowsy feline.”
If that visualization includes a cup of coffee and a cozy chair on a rainy day, then I think he might be on to something.
I nod and stretch out my hand. “It’s a deal.”
“I’ll add it to our contract,” he jokes as he places his hand in mine.
We shake, and when he lets go, my hand misses his immediately. Which is weird, right? How can a hand miss another hand?
I clear my throat. “So, are you ready to cook?”
“Extremely ready. I’ve been trying not to snack for an hour.”
I laugh at his pitiful expression. “The good news is this should be pretty quick. You get the cameras set up while I warm up the hot plate and we’ll get going.”
Forty-five minutes later, Alex sighs in contentment as he scrapes up the last of his honey soy salmon and rice. “You’re seriously a magician.”
“Because I can cook food?”
“It’s not just cooking,” he says, shaking his head as he takes his plate to the sink. “Every time I watch you take a bunch of regular ingredients and turn them into something really amazing in just a few minutes I think, ‘What sorcery is this?’”
I shake my head and laugh, though I’m secretly pleased. “It’s just food.”
“Say what you want,” he shrugs. “But I believe in kitchen magic.”
“Shall we cast one more spell before it starts getting dark?”
“Indeed, we shall.”
“Before we do that, can I run something by you? I had an idea, but I’m not sure if it’s a good one.”
“Sure thing.” Alex sits back down on his stool and gives me his full attention. “What you got?”
I take a deep breath and dive in, outlining the idea I had earlier that seems good, but that I felt less confident about the more I thought about it.
“I was thinking about ways to capitalize on the interest people have shown in our content, and I was wondering about getting a domain name and starting a blog to go with the videos. I could post the written version of each recipe for people to save and use again and again once they’ve watched the video. And I could include a newsletter signup so that we can email people who are interested in new posts and videos, which would hopefully boost views on both. Plus, there’s no minimum threshold for ads on websites. I could include that right away to get some revenue coming in.”
I pause to catch my breath and give Alex a chance to respond. I mentally prepare myself to accept it gracefully if he tells me that it would be a waste of time.
He nods thoughtfully, then slaps the countertop. “I think it sounds great. All of that makes sense to me, and it shouldn’t cost that much to get started. In fact, I could help you set up a simple website if you want. I’m no webmaster, but I know a little bit about basic web design from some classes I took in college.”
“Really?” I let out a sigh of relief. “That would be amazing. I watched some tutorials and I think I could do it, but I was feeling pretty intimidated.”
Alex waves his hand. “It’s really not that hard. I’m positive you could do it yourself, but I don’t mind helping if you want me to. You know, to save you some time.”
“That would be amazing,” I repeat, but then I pause, a thought occurring to me. “But are you sure that’s not asking too much? Our agreement only includes using your kitchen and featuring you in the videos.” I bite my lip as I think this through. “I feel like just leaving the food with you isn’t a fair exchange for all of that plus help with the website. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“I want to help,” he says, hopping up from the stool. “I promise you’re not taking advantage. I volunteered, remember?”
“Yes, but…”
“No ‘but.’” He moves to stand directly in front of me and braces a hand on each of my shoulders. “I am freely offering my help to execute your excellent idea. If you turn me down, I will be deeply, deeply offended.” His expression is serious, though I still detect a hint of a smile on the corners of his mouth.
“If you insist, I would be a fool to turn you down.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Now…” Alex leans over and peers into my crate, which he referred to earlier as a Mary Poppins bag of food. “I think you said something about making another recipe.”