Chapter Twenty. Luna #2
Riley tilts her head. “Did you not try them yet? I made chocolate chip cookies. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to indulge a little, since you’re about to have a week off. I left some for Hudson, too.”
“I let him take them all. He really likes your cooking.”
Riley reaches down into her case and starts removing bowls. “I can fix that.”
She sets out two metal bowls and a whisk. “You don’t have to,” I say. I came here to … I don’t even know what. But not to make her cook for me. I don’t even know why she’s being nice to me after yesterday.
Riley just shakes her head. “Let me.” She places an egg, sugar, flour, baking soda, chocolate chips, and butter on the counter.
“Seeing how many ingredients you need reminds me why I don’t cook,” I say, leaning against the counter.
Riley laughs. “Do you want to know the secret?”
“Um, of fucking course I do!”
Riley beckons me over to her, and I stand beside her as she puts a full stick of butter in a pan and turns on the burner.
“It’s simple, really. I brown the butter.
Most people don’t want to take the time to do this because it’s still a totally good cookie without it.
But I love the classics. And I know that with a little extra care, they can be so much better. So I brown the butter.”
As she talks, she swirls the butter in the pan and I watch it melt. She hands me the wooden spoon. “Keep stirring. But gently, or it’ll splash up and burn us.”
I feel like that’s my fear with us. That if I’m not gentle with these new feelings that are so raw and big, they could destroy my whole life.
I move the spoon in gentle circles, and after a minute or two bubbles begin to form on the edges of the melted butter.
Everything starts foaming, obscuring the bottom of the pan, and I look to Riley for guidance.
“Just keep stirring.”
I do, and moments later I’m rewarded with a nutty aroma. As the foam subsides, I can see that the butter has turned a rich brown color. Riley takes the spoon from me, and when our hands brush, I feel like a live wire, sparking and alert from the tiniest contact.
Riley pours the browned butter into the metal bowl, which has two more chunks of butter. Foam explodes upward as the sizzling liquid hits the cool solid butter, and Riley quickly starts to mix until it’s all combined into one brown pool.
“Wow. That smells amazing,” I breathe.
“It’s why the cookies have such a complex flavor,” Riley explains. “It’s worth the extra work, a million times over.”
“Definitely,” I agree. I watch as Riley adds the egg and vanilla, then the sugars, and then a mixture of chocolate chips and dry ingredients that she first combines in another bowl. When it’s done, she places the dough on the baking sheet and pushes the bowl and spatula to me.
“I can’t remember when I last had cookie dough.” I tilt my head. “Probably before I moved to Nashville.”
“Well, I’m glad you came down here tonight, then,” Riley says quietly.
I use the spatula to peel dough off the side of the bowl and lick it off. I scrape another section and turn the spatula to Riley. “You have to help me with this.”
Riley stares at me, and our eye contact is charged. She leans forward slowly and licks the dough off the spatula without taking it from me. When I see her pink tongue slide over the spatula, I feel a pulse of desire.
“This is something to me,” I blurt out. I cringe inwardly. Why did I have to ruin a sexy moment? “I just … I’m sorry about last night. This means something to me.”
Riley nods, her expression unreadable. “It means something to me too.”
“And obviously you know this … but I’m not with Hudson.
” I look at Riley, but I still can’t quite read her facial expression.
Does she care that we broke up? That now I’m technically single?
I can’t tell. And suddenly I’m terrified.
I’ve never been here. Standing in front of someone I desperately want to like me back, not knowing where I stand, and willing to look like an idiot in order to find out.
I’ve never cared like this, and it’s a scary feeling.
“Come to Greece with me!” I say, slightly too loudly. I feel so awkward right now, when I came down here thinking I’d be so smooth and romantic. “We have an off week before London.”
Riley opens her mouth, then closes it again. Now I feel like she’s the one searching my face for something. I want to say more. But tonight, after I just made out with Hudson onstage in front of thirty thousand people, hardly seems like the time.
“What about Ashley?”
“I’ll handle Ashley. Just say yes,” I whisper as I gaze into her eyes. Time seems to stand still as I wait for her response.
“Yes,” she says, finally.
I walk around the counter so we’re only standing a few inches apart.
She’s significantly shorter than me when I’m in my stage heels, and I feel like a giant.
It’s so, so quiet in the kitchen, I can hear every breath we each take.
Mine catches in my chest as I look at her.
“I’ll have my car pick you up at eight,” I say finally.
“Bring the cookies.” And when I turn to leave, I let my hand brush against hers, just for a second.
For the rest of the night that brief touch is all I can think about.