Chapter Eight. Luna #2
“Watching you cook is … it’s like watching Picasso paint,” I say softly.
“I doubt that. But hopefully it tastes as good as it looks.” She deflects my compliment swiftly, and before I can say more, she’s swimming away and pulling herself out of the pool.
People have smelled the food and are starting to sit at the table.
Riley wrings out her hair and pulls her shorts back on, then pours wine for everyone and returns to manning the grill.
I climb out of the pool and pull my crochet cover-up dress over my bikini, and I swear Riley’s eyes catch on me for just a second. But I’m probably imagining it, because she’s literally serving a feast; she doesn’t have time to be thinking about me.
Our dinner is incredible. We have an appetizer course of gazpacho that Riley apparently prepped yesterday, and jamón and Manchego, followed by grilled octopus—or pulpo, as Riley said—and patatas bravas, and fresh churros with chocolate dipping sauce for dessert.
Riley paired each course with local wines, and it’s probably the best meal of my life.
Everyone cleans their plates and is gushing over the food, and after dessert I catch Ashley’s eye and she gives me a nod of understanding.
She hadn’t wanted me to pick Riley and said she was too inexperienced, but I insisted on it because I had followed Riley for years and basically lusted after her food.
I didn’t realize that meeting her and getting to watch her process from a few feet away instead of on my fake account would have me lusting after her, too.
We linger at the table for an hour or so, finishing off the wine and churros, until people start to peel away and go to bed. Eventually it’s just Riley and me left at the table, finishing off a bottle of wine.
Riley’s flushed and happy as she pours the last of it into our glasses. “That seemed like a success.”
“Are you kidding? I thought people were going to start bribing you to cook for them all tour. They loved it. I can’t wait to see the video you make of it too.”
Riley’s eyes are shining, and I like seeing her this happy.
“I’m just glad it went well. I’ve never cooked something so complicated and coursed out for so many people before.
And I tried to incorporate all local flavors and dishes, since we really don’t get much time to explore the area.
I’m going to explain why I chose each dish in the voice-over. ”
“It was incredible. You should have your own restaurant, really.” Something in Riley’s face darkens, and I frown. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no. I just … wish I actually could.”
She swirls the wine in her glass and takes a long sip. The sun has totally set now, so we’re illuminated by candlelight, but even in the flickers of light I can see that this isn’t easy for her. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you?”
Riley sighs. “I promised my family I would get a more practical job that doesn’t involve spending all of my time in a kitchen.” It sounds like something that she repeats back to herself all the time.
I get up and walk to her side of the table and sit next to her, resting my head on her bare shoulder. “Practical jobs are overrated.”
“Says the pop star,” Riley whispers. She hasn’t moved an inch, and I keep my head on her shoulder. It feels like we’re both afraid to break this moment.
“Exactly.”
“Thanks,” she whispers, but then she shakes her head slightly, like she’s trying to get my words out of her head. “I should clean up.”
“Let me help you,” I offer. “You weren’t even supposed to be cooking tonight; it’s your day off.”
Riley shakes her head firmly as we both stand. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting all these knives anywhere near your guitar-playing fingers.”
She has a point there. “Fine, but I’m at least keeping you company.”
I help Riley carry all of the glasses and plates over to the outdoor sink, and then I hop up on the counter next to her.
She pulls her hair up into a bun and starts methodically washing everything.
I don’t really know what I’m doing here.
But I do know I want to steal away as much time with her as I can.
“So what was it like growing up in Provincetown? That’s where you grew up, right?” I like that while she’s focused on the dishes, I get to just watch her. Her face is perfectly symmetrical, with a button nose and round cheeks. I’m all angles, but I like how soft her features are.
“Yeah, I did. It was pretty magical in a lot of ways. In the summers it’s chaos, there are so many tourists, and my dads make all their money for the year between June and September, which is a lot of pressure.
But I loved going out on the boat with Nick and pulling up the lobster traps, and I spent days in the kitchen with Anthony and my sister, Liv, for as long as I can remember.
And the people in Provincetown are just the best. It’s the gay capital of the world for a reason and it’s literally so iconic.
It’s my favorite place.” She smiles as she remembers all this, and it’s so cute.
“As I got older, the winters were tougher, though, because it’s just …
it’s desolate out there. That’s when I first started cooking things besides seafood, when my sister and I had to entertain ourselves for months on end.
I remember one winter Liv and I learned to make a perfect soufflé, which wasn’t easy. ”
“So you always liked to cook.”
“Definitely. I mean, my dads do too, so it was natural, I think. But I never really took to any sports or dance classes, or even sailing. My sister liked to sail, but I just wanted to be sweating in the kitchen. Honestly, it was—” Her words are swallowed by a gasp of pain and my stomach drops.
She drops the knife and sponge and they clatter in the sink, and I see red spilling over from where she’s not clutching her hand.
“Riley,” I breathe. I jump off the counter and grab a clean cloth napkin from the pile that’s still on the table and rush to wrap it around her hand.
I close my own hands tight around hers and don’t let go, holding us there, so close that I can feel the heat of her bare skin and the slight damp of her bikini top through the holes in my crochet dress.
All I want is to press her closer to me so that even more of our skin is touching.
She looks up at me, and our faces are so close together. “Are you okay?” I whisper. I stay still, not wanting to disrupt the fragile balance of this moment.
“I’ll be fine,” she says. “This is just a hazard of the job.”
Still, I don’t let go of her hand. “Let me see it.” She nods, and I gently peel back the cloth to reveal a nick on the side of her palm. “It looks deep.”
“Nothing some Neosporin and a bandage won’t fix,” she reassures me. “I have some in my bag. Would you mind grabbing them? My room is at the end of the hall on the right upstairs.”
I swallow and try to force myself to act normally. To tamp down whatever this is. I let go of Riley. “Of course.” I leave her holding her cut and rush upstairs to her room. She hasn’t unpacked anything, but I unzip her suitcase and start going through it.
It’s strangely intimate to look through her things like this.
It feels personal in a way I wouldn’t notice with anyone else, but with her I feel like I shouldn’t be rifling through thongs and tank tops.
I have an inexplicable desire to know everything about her, and if I weren’t in such a rush to find the first aid kit, I’d want to note what brand of lotion she uses and where her socks are from.
But as soon as I find a first aid kit, I take it downstairs and guide Riley to one of the pool chairs. “I can do it,” she says quickly.
“Just let me,” I say. She doesn’t argue.
I sit next to her and clean the cut and wrap it tightly in gauze and a waterproof bandage.
When it’s done, I raise her hand to my lips and kiss the bandage.
I meant it to be lighthearted, but the tension is palpable between us as I lower her hand back to her lap, and her eyes never leave mine.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Be careful,” I say. “I hate seeing you get hurt.” I want to say more, but the words catch in my throat.
Riley stands abruptly. “I’ll get my gloves so I can finish up.
Have a great night.” She practically runs back into the house, and I want to run after her.
But instead I wait until I see the light turn on in her room, and then I head to my own room in the opposite wing of the villa.
But instead of going to bed, I sit at the window and do my skincare until the lights outside are off and I know Riley’s safely inside.