Tour de Building #3
“Just give me a few minutes,” Sami says. “I’m going to shut down the kitchen so we can chill. Wine and industrial kitchens
don’t mix.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I joke.
Sami disappears to the back and returns with two plates of steaming stew on rice—quickly enough that he must have had it already
prepared. It occurs to me that he’s been planning for us to eat together this whole time. “So, I made a beef and eggplant
stew that’s sort of like a French bourguignon and a Persian eggplant khoresh fusion. This would appall Abu, but you’re like
the only person who might appreciate it.”
The rich scent of the beef stew deepened by red wine and saffron wafts through my nostrils and sends a warmth through my insides.
“Sami, this is amazing of you.” I put my hand to my heart. “I have never eaten so well in my life since we became friends. Should I start calling you Chef?”
“Eh. No need for that.” He shakes his head, his eyes darting to his feet. “This is my hobby, so I’m just happy to have someone
to eat with. And I figured you’d be hungry after the town hall.” I note the nervous way he raps his fingers on the table.
“Well, this is great.” I scrape up a steaming forkful. It’s so beautiful. I take the first bite and it’s like my tastebuds
are being born for the first time. Sami’s watching my reaction to the dish carefully. No one’s ever taken care of me like
this. Eventually, Sami will realize I was never worth it. But I’m overcome with a need to make sure he knows how much I appreciate
it. Before thinking too hard, I reach across the table and pat the top of his hand. “Sami, it’s like you took a part of my
heart and made it into food.”
“Whoa, that’s the best one so far. I should put that on a T-shirt.” His lips twitch. “The whole time I was cooking I was thinking
how you’d react.”
I picture him in the kitchen, thinking about me even when I wasn’t there. And again I’m overcome with this feeling . . . a
need I don’t quite understand, to make sure he knows. I lean closer. “Sami, seriously, thank you. For everything tonight.
The way you’ve kind of been so welcoming and helpful to me, ever since I was a total wretch at your place of business, has
been just really . . . cool.”
“Of course.” His voice thickens, his smile a little shy. “You’ve done a lot for me too.” He pauses, then adds, “For the whole
community.”
His gaze is too admiring. I’ve not earned this at all. I have to look away. I only wish there was a world where I wasn’t completely
destroying a little building he cares about, basically the only place with customers who still come to the diner.
I wish we’d met before all this happened. Before the secrets, before I knew he’d eventually hate me.
But then again, back then I never would have given him a chance. I would have completely missed how amazing he is.
“I’m glad I was craving cheese fries that night,” I whisper, before thinking better of it. But it’s one of the few things
I can be honest about with him. “If that’s what led to me eating this stew, it was totally worth it.”
He laughs. “You came in like a hurricane that night. It’s maddening that you’ve been living so close to my world for five
years and we never spoke.” Again, there’s a look in his eyes, like he’s seeing the only thing in the world worth looking at.
I don’t deserve it.
I shove another gigantic bite into my mouth to hide my shame. If I hadn’t had a complete meltdown, I never would have really
seen him. Never would have cared about any of these people. But becoming fond of them doesn’t change a thing. It just means
everything is going to hurt more.
But I’m used to shutting things off. I can survive this on my own. I’ve made it this far.
I swallow the last of my food as Sami tells me about the time the video store that used to be across the street ruined his
attempts to get R-rated movies, because Abu paid them off. I giggle and let myself fall into this moment, push away all the
things I know are coming. If Lana sells the building to Missy and Robin, maybe it’ll all be over tomorrow. But sometimes it
feels like there’s this other world I’m occupying where Sami and I make sense. I feel it in the small moments like this, when
we’re eating or walking Ernest. And every time I’m pulled back out of that world it’s like being hit by a brick.
I don’t want to leave it just yet.
After he clears our plates, he holds out his glass for a toast and our cups clink.
“To your favorite customer,” I announce.
“Not true.” Sami lowers his voice. “You’re more than that to me.”
His eyes run over mine and it feels like I’ve never been seen before.
A rush flutters in my chest.
He sets his glass back onto the table and bends closer. I can’t pull back, even though I’m fully aware what I’m doing. What
we’re doing.
And it’s automatic, like ink spreading over paper, as he bends closer and I tilt to him. Our glasses are left on the table
and our lips lock
I have to stop. It’s not fair to him.
Except it doesn’t matter when his lips touch mine.
It’s brief, just a quick brush. He pulls back an inch, exhaling softly, and I feel his eyes sweeping over me. I realize mine
have closed. I hold very still, taking shallow breaths. I feel the warmth of him nudge closer again, and our noses brush against
each other. His hands come to my shoulders.
His lips touch mine again. And then press closer. To feel more.
And every step of the way I tell myself I should stop. But then—his hands, his mouth, the way he says my name—each touch pulls
me deeper, makes the lie harder to hold.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Like time doesn’t exist when I’m with him. Like I’m allowed to just be—no masks, no weight, just . . . me. And the way he looks at me—like I’m something precious, like I’m wanted—it undoes me.
My body melts in his arms, and for once, I let it. I let myself disappear into him, into the feeling I didn’t know was possible.
I let myself fall apart.