Chapter 6
Gabe
I felt like a fool standing next to Elle holding out my hand for her to shake.
But I did want to start over. What better way to do it than that?
I realized what an asshole I had been as soon as she had slammed her door.
It was only confirmed when I got a text message from Sarah thanking me again for being so kind to her friend and letting her stay.
It wasn’t fair of me to take out my anger and frustration of my own desires for Elle, on Elle.
She couldn’t help it if I found her attractive and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
She had come to me for help. A place to stay where she felt safe and nurtured.
Instead, I had treated her like street trash.
That wasn’t who I was or how I wanted her or Sarah to see me.
I needed to make it up to Elle. I needed to get her to stay. The way to do that was to apologize to her. Which was exactly what I was doing. Too bad she wasn’t having any of it.
She looked at my outstretched hand as if it was some creature she had never seen before.
She slowly eyed me. Her expression told me she didn’t know what to make of my comment and offer.
There were unshed tears in her eyes and it made my heart ache to know that I had made her cry.
It only reminded me that she was a woman who had come to me for help and instead, I had done the exact opposite.
“Elle, I was rude to you earlier. I was surprised to see you and wasn’t expecting you. I had a bad day and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. It wasn’t how I wanted your welcoming to be. Can we start over?” I asked.
She didn’t answer me but slowly reached her hand out to mine and shook it.
“Okay,” she said warily.
“Thank you. Would you like to come out with me into the kitchen? You said you like to cook? If you’d allow me, I would like to cook a meal for you, welcome you into my place properly? Maybe have a nice glass of wine as a peace offering?” I asked.
“What wine?” She asked.
“Do you know wine?” I asked, impressed.
“Does anyone really know wine? Or are we all just perpetual students?” she replied.
“I have no idea. I never thought of it that way. Maybe we can try a bottle together and see what we think of it.”
“What if it sucks?” Elle asked.
I laughed. “I’ll have you know there isn’t a bad bottle of wine in my cellar.”
“Cellar?” She asked, clearly impressed.
“Yes. It isn’t much but it holds about five hundred bottles of wine.”
“You. You have five hundred bottles of wine?” She stammered.
“Not yet, but I believe it’s good to have goals,” I replied and walked towards the kitchen.
I wasn’t sure why I was bragging about my wine collection. It wasn’t something I shared with just anyone. I certainly shouldn’t be offering a bottle to some woman who was my roommate.
Yet, I wanted to. I had seen how impressed she was by my cookware.
I wouldn’t consider myself a master chef but I did like to cook and could see she did too.
Sarah had told me how she hadn’t had a decent place to stay for months.
I wondered if that meant she hadn’t been able to have a good meal, home cooked, or otherwise.
It was clear she had been eager to check out my kitchen as soon as she arrived at my place. It only made me feel worse that I had almost taken that away from her.
Elle hadn’t initially followed me and I was worried that she wouldn’t. After a few minutes, she came walking into the kitchen without her bag. I wasn’t sure if she had put it back in her room or by the door. Either way, I had one meal to convince her that she should and would want to stay with me.
She still wore her short shorts and tank top and I had to look over her head as she walked towards me. I wanted to believe I had imagined how good she looked in the outfit but I hadn’t. Seeing her walking towards me only emphasized how sexy she was.
“I have to admit I’m in unfamiliar territory here,” I said as she stood in front of the island.
“Cooking? With this kitchen?” She asked.
“No, I love to cook. I would normally offer to cook for you, but you are technically not my guest. I want you to feel welcome and if you want to cook a meal, you should. But I don’t want to intrude nor do I want you to think that you should cook for me.”
She smiled at me and walked past me.
“How about this? You pick out a wine and I’ll see about making us something to eat. While we drink the wine, you can tell me about how you got into cooking and maybe about that bad day?” She offered.
I held her gaze. I wanted to look down at her tank top as I had a feeling with her being so close, I would get a nice down shot of her breasts but I refrained.
Her eyes held mine and it took me a second to realize it was almost challenging.
It was as if she was daring me to look at her, really look at her.
I didn’t. I couldn’t, even though I really wanted to.
She was giving me a way out, a way to move past the previous encounter.
It was what I wanted. But I could feel something more happening between us.
Had she felt the same pull, the same need I had?
Was she attracted to me too? It was too ludicrous to contemplate and so unexpected I stepped away from her.
She stepped back and looked away from me.
Neither of us spoke for a second as if we both needed a moment to recover from whatever had just occurred.
I certainly needed it. Was she messing with me?
Or did she find me attractive, too? I knew what sexual chemistry felt like and at the moment we had shared enough to blow up a beaker in a chemistry class.
I clapped my hands together and it seemed to break us from our thoughts.
“Why don’t you tell me what you would like to make so I can pick out the perfect wine? Though I hope you know I don’t expect you to cook for me. I can make my own meal. I just want you to feel welcome. My home is now your home,” I said.
“No, I would like to cook for you. I mean, it’s the least I can do for you. You’re letting me stay in your place,” she countered.
“Well, that is, if I hadn’t scared you off.
I really hope I haven’t. I’m sorry about how I acted early.
I want you to stay, and you can as long as you’d like.
As you can see, I have plenty of room and a kitchen that has all the state-of-the-art appliances.
You’re more than welcome to use them. I would think you would take good care of them. ”
Elle looked lovingly around the kitchen as she took in the mixer, the container of utensils, and over at the stove before looking back at me. “As if they were my own,” she said.
“So, that means you’ll stay?” I asked.
She didn’t look at me but again looked around the kitchen.
I could tell she wanted to stay if nothing else because of my kitchen.
She looked down at the counter and then slowly she turned to look at me.
A smile spread across her face. “Why don’t you pick out the wine and we can discuss that over dinner,” she said.
“Deal,” I said and went and got the wine.