Page 34 of Never Been Gargoyled
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Just asking.”
“I see.”
We worked quietly after that, the sun climbing higher and warming our backs. By the time we'd cleared two full flower beds, we were both sweaty and covered in dirt.
“I'm starving,” I announced, sitting on my heels and wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. “Want to help me make lunch?”
“What were you thinking?”
“Nachos. Nothing fancy, but they're filling and delicious.”
“I don't know what those are.”
I stared at him. “You've never had nachos?”
“No.”
“Oh, we are definitely fixing that right now.”
After we’d cleaned up, we went to the kitchen, where I showed him how to layer tortilla chips on a baking sheet, then sprinkle them with cheese and beans andwhatever other toppings caught our fancy. His fascination with the process was adorable.
“So the cheese melts and holds everything together?” he asked, watching me spread shredded cheddar over the top for an extra layer of goodness. The oven dinged, announcing it was up to temperature.
“It does. Nachos are basically an excuse to eat a ridiculous amount of cheese and call it a meal.”
“I like cheese.”
“I had a feeling you might.”
While the nachos baked, we filled glasses of water and took them out onto the porch where we could sit and enjoy our hard work in the gardens—that looked amazing already.
“Thank you again for fixing my sink,” I said as I shifted in the chair beside his. “You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
“It wasn't difficult.”
“Maybe not for you, but it would've taken me forever to figure out what was wrong, let alone how to fix it. I watch YouTube videos when I need to fix things, but sometimes, it’s still pretty hard.”
He looked pleased by my praise. “I'm good with my hands.”
The innocent comment made my thoughts veer in decidedly non-innocent directions. I cleared my throat and hurried into the kitchen to check on the nachos, him following.
“Perfect timing.” I pulled the bubbling tray from the oven.
Feydin's eyes widened when I set the loaded nachos on the table out front. “They’re beautiful.”
“They’re messy, but that's half the fun.” I handed him a plate and a fork. “Dig in.”
He loaded his plate carefully, then took a bite. His eyes closed, and he made a low sound of pleasure that did interesting things to my insides.
“This is incredible,” he said, already reaching for more.
“Nachos are one of my favorite meals.”
I watched in amazement as he demolished his portion and went back for seconds, then thirds. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself grinning as he gushed about every component.
