Page 71 of When You Left Me Speechless

“Dinner?” I manage to spit out. He smiles at me and pushes past me towards my small kitchen.

“Yep, dinner.”

I shut the door to follow him. “But this, us, is just sex. Dinner is not part of the deal,” I argue, crossing my arms across my chest.

“Well, this,” he points back and forth between the two of us, “is technically sex, studying, dessert, and now, I guess, it’s dinner too.” He smiles as I roll my eyes and let out a frustrated breath.

“We agreed on no dates.”

“This isn’t a date. It’s just dinner.”

“Is dinner not considered a date? Because I feel like every date I have ever been on has included dinner.” I’m becoming increasingly more annoyed as I watch him open and close the cabinet doors, pulling out pots and pans.

“We had dinner at the diner. That wasn’t a date,” he says.

“That was different,” I argue.

“Didn’t feel different, chatterbox. It was just dinner, and this,” he gestures at the bag of groceries, “is just dinner.”

He obviously is not going to let me win this argument,and I am a little hungry, so I turn around and return to my room without another word, shutting the door behind me. I walk over, throw my vibrator into the open drawer, and slam it shut. I sit at my desk with a huff and attempt to return to my test.

Spoiler alert: I can’t focus.

I turn up the music to drown out the sounds of him cooking and finally concentrate enough to finish.

After another hour, I emerge from my room, hungry and pleased I passed the practice exam easily. The smell of marinara sauce fills the apartment, and I hear my stomach grumble. He is relaxing on our couch, watching some sports show on my TV.

“Ready to eat?” He asks the question like it’s completely normal for him to be sitting in my apartment. He stands and walks over to two glasses of wine sitting on the counter. I follow him into the kitchen, and he turns to meet me. “Did you finish your test?”

I nod and take one of the glasses from his hands. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m too busy trying to process him being here and cooking me dinner. I walk over, sit at the table, and watch as he prepares both of us a plate of what looks like eggplant parmesan. He walks it over, places it in front of me, grabs his wine, and then joins me. The whole time, his face is covered in a way too confident, goofy smile. I want nothing more than to kiss it right off of his dumb face.

“Thank you,” I finally say after taking a bite of food and a few sips of wine.

“It’s just dinner,” he reassures me, but when I hear it, it sounds like he is trying to convince himself, too.

LOGAN

She toldme that most nights she has cereal for dinner, so as soon as I left the school for the day, I ran by the store and picked up food. I am admittedly not the best cook, but I can make one thing: eggplant parmesan.

The past few nights have been incredible. It’s like something shifted after the food bank. Whatever this is, it is quickly becoming way more than just sex, and I know she must feel it too. I’m not even sure who she is trying to convince anymore when she argues with me about it. I assume she is scared. I know her ex screwed with her head and future, so if I need to wait for her to admit this is something more, I will.

“It’s just dinner,” I reassure her because I can tell I’m freaking her out. She nods and goes back to eating. “Do you like the wine? It’s a cab.” I have never seen her this quiet, and I need her to relax.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“I wasn’t sure what to buy. I almost got white because I’ve only ever seen you drink champagne, but then I figured red goes better with pasta.”

“I like zinfandel,” she smiles, and I can see the tension in her shoulders ease a little bit as she talks, “but the cab is good too.”

“So, how was your test?”

“I passed, but it was just practice. How’d you know I was taking a practice test tonight?”

“I took a picture of your calendar the other day so I could be a little more prepared if you asked me to help you study.”

She hums as she continues to eat her food. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“My mom is a vegetarian, and when I was probably about ten, I learned to make her favorite meal for her birthday.”

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