Page 10 of Me Three
“I’m sure your dead knight will breed again or whatever—”
“It’s Death Knight, idiot. And it’s not breed, it’s respawn,” I correct him, and he laughs. “I know you do it on purpose, and yet I always fall for it, don’t I?”
Ev shrugs.
“Anyway. What was the reason for your rude interruption?”
“Well, I came to tell you dinner’s ready, but if you’re gonna be an asshole about it, you can eat the pixels on your screen,” he says.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me. What goodie are we eating?”
Ev crosses his arms in front of his chest, making it look even bigger than it is, and taps his foot on the floor.
He’s so sexy when he pretends to be upset. But am I going to tell him that? Fuck no. He already takes advantage of my adoration of his cooking skills. I’m not about to say his scowls turn me on or he’ll be pissing me off even more every day.
“Confit duck with celeriac mash, roast potatoes, and cherry sauce,” he says.
I get off my bean bag, throw the headphones on it, and squeeze his butt.
“You spoil me on the daily, Mr. Spencer,” I say and he slaps my hand off his butt.
“Don’t you start on this shit before dinner, jerk. There’s nothing worse than cold duck and celeriac,” he says.
“Trust me, I’m not touching you until we’ve eaten that divine goodness you’ve made.”
He pushes me out of my room and into the open plan kitchen and living room that is sectioned off so the floor looks less airy and more cozy. Two blue velvet couches on opposite ends and a coffee table on a black rug make up the living room. The oak dining table behind one couch leads to the kitchen which has its own breakfast table for those days when a quick snack and dash is all we have time for. To the left of the kitchen is the hallway with the wall in between dividing the space and a coat rack hanging on the wall, housing our winter coats. And to the left of that are the windows, dressed with blinds.
Some days evenIcan’t believe we’ve only been here for only seven months. This place, hell, even this town, feels like home already. More than Philadelphia has felt in a long time.
The table is set with the silverware, a can of beer on each side, and a candle in the middle.
I’m not one for candlelit dinners, especially with my best friend, but if I’ve learned something living with Ev the last five and a half years, it’s that there’s no table without a candle for him. France completely ruined him on that.
Which is fine by me as long as he’s clear on the terms of our friendship. Thankfully, he is. But sometimes, it feels like he forgets.
I’ve backed out on the candles thing, but occasionally he’ll sleep in my bed after we’ve fucked, or he’ll call me sweetie and, I don’t know, he’ll make me think he needs a rehash. Or more accurately, I’ll need to remember the rules myself. It’s easy to forget around him, but I’m proud of myself for not letting it show.
The room smells of cherries and duck, and I sit down at the table as he serves both of us.
“You’ve changed something in the recipe,” I say after tasting all the elements of his dish.
Everett looks at me with a frown and a fork in his mouth.
“Is it bad?”
“No, it’s nice. It’s tastier,” I say.
He chews his bite and takes a sip of his beer before he tells me.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve just tried something different with the cherry sauce.”
I take a small amount with my fork and lick it and then wink at him.
“Gotcha. It’s a bit spicy. Nice work, dude. So, how was your first class back?”
Everett chuckles and sets his silverware down.
“It was good. Bigger attendance than last semester, thank fuck!”
