Page 63 of Game Point
I turned my attention to the chicken, trying to remember the basic food hygiene I knew I had been taught at some point. It wasn’t our fault directly that we couldn’t cook. A lot of this had been covered for us, our strict diets maintained with pre-made ready meals that were prepared by private chefs. If we couldn’t stick it in the oven or microwave, then it was officially out of our depth.
I washed my hands and transferred the meat to a hot pan, checking on Dylan’s onion-cutting skills as she muttered under her breath, ‘Damn, these really go for your eyes.’
Once the onion was chopped, each slice a different size from the last, and added to the pan, she quickly turned to the chilli.
‘Have you seen how many seeds there are in here? How am I supposed to get rid of these?’ She started to press at the seeds with her fingers, removing them one by one.
‘Here, let me do it,’ I offered, switching sides with her as I passed her my spatula. ‘You need to move the chicken and onion around to keep them from burning.’
‘Oh, okay.’ She sounded a little uncertain as she took the spatula from me, but after a moment of pushingthe ingredients around the pan, she said, ‘This isn’t that difficult.’
I grinned at her, ‘Look at us, cheffing.’
‘Who needs cooking lessons?’ she grinned back, my heart stuttering at the sight of her. Her hair was pushed back behind her ears, face clear. She was beautiful. MyfriendDylan was beautiful.
I looked away from her, my own reminder twisting my gut. What was wrong with seeing it? Acknowledging it?
I swallowed, attempting to refocus on the chilli in front of me when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a terrible, terrible mistake happening.
‘Dylan, no!’ I cried, smacking her hands away from her eyes.
‘What?’ She stared at me with the fury of a thousand storms. After a second, the fury melted away to confusion, her eyes blinking as if to wash out an irritant.The chilli.
‘Wait, oh my god. Why is it stinging?’ Dylan flapped about, tears streaming out of her eyes.
All the while, I tried my best not to laugh and instead help. ‘Come here. I’ll wash your eyes out. Don’t –’ I cut off, pulling her hand away from her face again. ‘Don’t touch your face. Assume you are completely contaminated.’
Carefully, I guided her out of the kitchen, my hands on both of her arms as I took her through to the downstairs bathroom, sitting her down on the closed toilet. While she waited, I grabbed a clean towel, running it under the tap.
‘Do not touch your face,’ I ordered over my shoulder at her, watching her as she lowered her hands again, tucking them under her thighs as if to restrain herself. I turnedback, kneeling down in front of her, my legs spread, her in between them.
Had we ever been this close?
I swallowed involuntarily at the realization, trying to ignore the little things I couldn’t help but notice at this proximity. Instead, I reached towards her, hesitating in mid-air.
‘Can I touch you?’ I asked, frozen, as I made sure she was okay with the contact.
‘Fuck. Yes,’ she immediately replied, sounding more and more distressed. ‘Anything. Just make it stop.’
I slid one hand against her soft cheek, tilting her head to the side to give me a better view of her left eye. Carefully, I used the wet cloth to clean it out, wiping at her closed eyelid.
‘It’s going to be fine,’ I said softly. ‘Let me know if I hurt you.’
I switched sides, making sure to use a different side of the cloth to wipe her other eye. She opened her left as if I did, squinting at me, the white of her eye tinged red. ‘I know our chef skills are limited,’ I began, ‘but who doesn’t know not to touch their eyes after chopping chillies?’
‘I thought it wouldn’t matter,’ she cried. ‘Or hurt that much. Are you sure you don’t want to order take-out?’
I smirked, shaking my head. ‘No, we are adults. We can absolutely do this.’
‘We aren’t adults. We are professional athletes who’ve never had to cook a meal in their entire lives,’ she argued back. ‘And now I’m a retired athlete with one eye.’
‘You’re going to be fine,’ I replied, finishing up my wiping, making sure to clean up the residual dampness.Slowly, her other eye opened, and the deep brown of her eyes swallowed me whole. My gaze searched her face, at first for any sign of discomfort, but when they found none, instead I took her in. Her rosy cheeks, full eyebrows, plump full lips. My hand, still touching her, pushed up along her jaw, tucking her long hair that had escaped back behind her ear.
‘Does it still hurt?’ I whispered, my eyes back to hers. They were still a little red, but she was wincing less.
I wasn’t sure if she was aware she did it, but she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth before shaking her head softly. Instead of pulling away, like I thought she would, she leaned into my touch, her face completely held in my hands delicately.
I could… The thought bubbled up inside of me, growing bigger and more uncontrolled with every passing moment.
