Page 73 of Fun Together
“You like peanut butter cookies?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Want to make cookies instead? Because if I have to play Tetris with this engineered wood for two more seconds, I’m going to explode.”
I laugh and get up to join her in the kitchen. “Fine by me.”
She takes out the peanut butter, eggs, and sugar and sets them on the counter.
“Is this all we need?” I ask.
“Yep, I used to make these all the time when I was little.”
“Did you like to bake a lot?”
She takes out measuring cups. “Not really.”
“Where did you grow up again?” I ask casually, subtly bringing up our old guessing game.
She gives me a sly smile. “Nuh-uh. Still not telling you.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
She measures out the peanut butter and sugar into the bowl. “Now it’s just fun tonottell you.”
“You’ll tell me someday.”
She shakes her head as she slides the bowl down the counter to where I’m standing. “Can I tell you to crack two eggs in there, instead?”
“Yes, chef.”
I add the eggs, and she hands me a spoon. “Just mix it all together until the dough forms,” she says.
Her kitchen is so tiny that we keep brushing against each other with every move the other makes. She reaches across to take a dish towel from a hook next to the sink, grazing against my arm. I move behind her to throw away the eggshells, and we’re pressed against each other momentarily. It’s a dance we’re doing, and it kind of reminds me of the swans circling each other at the pond.
She rolls the dough into little balls to place on the cookie sheet. “Do you think I’m mysterious?”
The question is so out of nowhere, I almost don’t think I’ve heard her right. “What do you mean?”
“Rett says I’m bad at letting people know me. Just wondering if that’s why—” She pauses and shrugs. “Maybe that’s why Cameron and Chris weren’t interested. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.”
I was right—she has been overanalyzing the night. I take a bite of peanut butter to buy some time while I think of the best thing to say. Faye is an odd combination of open and closed. There’s nothing intimidating about her, but you get the sense that she’s never fully herself. She knows what to say to make you feel heard, but ask her anything personal, and she’ll deftly steer the conversation back to you. “I’d say you’re intriguing.” I join her in shaping the cookies. “And I’d say Cameron and Chris are lazy.”
“So, you don’t think I’m hard to know?”
“I didn’t say that.” I playfully shove her with my hip. “You’re worth trying to get to know, though.”
She gives me a curious look before focusing on spooning more cookies onto the sheet. She places them in the oven while I set a timer on my phone. We take a seat on the stools she’s placed by her kitchen counter—another tight space, where our knees bump against each other.
I decide to test something and don’t move my knee away from hers to see what she does. She doesn’t move hers away either, keeping it pressed against mine.
She folds a dish towel. Unfolds it. Folds it again. “I thought Andrew really knew me. But then when he asked me—” A few seconds tick away. But I don’t say anything, even though I’m wondering what he asked her. Even though, I think I might know what he asked her. “He didn’t know me at all.”
She shakes her head as if to clear it out. “I’m sorry for even talking about this with you. He’s a great person. You don’t have to say anything.”
“You can talk about anything with me.”
“I know.” She raises her eyes to fully look at me with a direct stare you rarely get from her. I don’t want her to look away. I want to swim in those blue eyes forever.
