Page 43 of Something Cheeky

“Don’t you mean the ‘we’re broke college students so let’s cobble some random ingredients together’ challenge?”

“Your dishes were always better than mine.” Zoe hated cooking but could put together something edible when necessary.

“I’ll never forget your ‘tomato’ soup made from old ketchup packets and elbow macaroni.”

“Don’t forget the bacon bits.”

“How could I? Your secret ingredient.”

“I learned that recipe from my grandfather. I didn’t realize until much later that that was how he stretched his paycheck.”

“It did taste almost like real tomato soup,” Derek agreed. “And it was filling.”

“He still makes it, you know, but with fancy tomato paste from Trader Joe’s. I think it’s a nostalgia thing.”

“I hope it’s okay if we bypass the ketchup packets today. How old are these even?”

“Don’t you dare toss them! They’re my emotional support condiments.”

“Okay, hoarder.” Derek burst out laughing as he shut the drawer with his hip. He held his hands out and backed away as if she’d hurt him for throwing out her ketchup packets.

“I did my best to scrub out the inside of your shoe but it’s still pretty damp.” Zoe changed the subject. “I don’t think you’re supposed to toss Converse sneakers in the dryer.”

“Maybe they’ll dry by the time you’re done. I’m not going home until you feel one hundred percent prepared.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you should escape now while you still can.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with me,” Derek said softly.

Zoe’s stomach did a tiny flip-flop as the corners of his eyes crinkled with a half-smile. She liked having him back in her life, but she shouldn’t get used to it. OnceT?m Cámopened, he’d be off to the next thing unless funding came through to take the show to New York.

“I’m going to put the finishing touches on my presentation while you playIron ChefSurprise,” she said, changing the subject to distract herself from that flip-flop reaction to the way he looked at her.

Zoe carefully unpacked the tote bags she’d left by the door. She tilted her head to the left then to the right to stretch her tight neckmuscles. As worried as she was about tomorrow, she was confident in her designs. Both Derek and Th?o had loved them. Even TJ, who always had constructive criticism about clothing, had been helpful because he asked questions about things that might come up during the meet and greet.

“Where do you keep your frying pan?”

“Bottom cabinet to the left of the stove.” Zoe placed the costume renderings for the lead actors on her coffee table. “They look beautiful all in a row like this.”

“Now you believe me? I’ve been saying that for days,” Derek reminded her. “Soy sauce or fish sauce?”

“Um, maybe in the fridge?”

“Already looked there.” Derek continued chopping.

“Let me think.” Zoe walked over to her pantry and pushed aside the bags of shrimp chips and instant ramen her mother always sent home after their big family gatherings.

“If you don’t have either of those, I’m taking away your Vietnamese card.”

“Don’t you dare!” She reached deep into her pantry and shuffled some jars and bottles.

“Kidding. Vietnamese Americans aren’t a monolith, so it’s okay if you don’t own any nu?c m?m.”

“Aha!” She pulled out the two bottles he’d requested. “Don’t monolith me. I’m a Vietnamese American lingerie designer. I don’t think there’s many of us.”

“We would’ve made awful doctors or lawyers.”

“I don’t want people’s lives in my hands.” She shuddered.

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