Page 32 of A Play For The Heart
Henry fidgets and pulls at the back of his neck while I stare at him, waiting for a response.
“Um...Well. I—” he stutters out. Immediately my shoulders droop to prepare myself for the news that someone else has been baking for him. “I bought it for you.” Henry finally chokes out, looking away, with what looks like a blush on his cheeks.
“You bought a KitchenAid mixer for me?” I ask, stunned.
“Yeah, I figured it would make baking easier for you,” he says, looking shy. “I mean I also kinda bought it for me, so that you would be more inclined to make cookies.” He smiles at me sheepishly.
My mind takes a moment to process what I'm hearing. He bought the mixer. For me. To make baking easier and so I would bake for him more.
He. Bought. It. For.Me.
I celebrate internally, saying a mental ‘suck it’ to the imaginary woman I conjured up who I thought was baking for Henry. My little green monster is doing its best touchdown victory dance.
I close the space between us and drag him into a crushing hug, attempting to express all my emotions in the simple action. He wraps his arms around me, and I lean into him, sucking in a big gulp of Henry. The smell of eucalyptus and something unique to Henry envelops me.
“Thank you,” I mumble into his chest, not wanting to pull away from the hug. “But you just developed a squatter problem. I’m never leaving this kitchen.”
“Anything for you, Sawyer. Always,” he says into my hair, laughing. I can hear the conviction and promise in his voice, which sends warm, gooey feelings directly to my chest.Ugh, go away emotions. We need to be sensible here. “And I’m okay with a squatter as long as they bake.”
Finally, after a few more seconds of latching myself to him like a koala, I peel myself off. “Alright.” I clap my hands together. “Are you ready to learn how to make the best cookies on planet Earth?”
Henry nods enthusiastically, his curly hair bouncing all around as he turns back to the ingredients and takes inventory of everything on the counter. I pull all the dry ingredients towards us and begin to measure everything that we need. Henry watches me, captivated.
“Do you want to measure the wet ingredients?” I ask him, grabbing the sugar, butter, vanilla, and eggs and placing them in front of him.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Henry measures out all the ingredients slowly and with intense concentration. His brow is furrowed as he places them into the mixer. He looks more like he's disarming a bomb and not measuring out brown sugar. I plug the mixer in and turn it on. I watch as the wet ingredients combine in the bowl. “Okay. Now it's time to add the dry ingredients,” I say, placing the bowl in front of him. “You can do it.”
He grabs the bowl off the counter and I attempt to scoot to the side so that Henry can stand in front of the mixer. Except he comes up behind me, presses his body flush against mine, and slowly pours the ingredients in. Red lights flash and sirens blare in my mind. He leans down, looking over my shoulder into the mixing bowl then tilting his head towards me. “Like this?” he asks, voice sounding husky in my ear.
I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck. My heart skips a beat, and blood flow to my brain ceases.What the fuck is happening?I hum in response to his question, incapable of forming words or thoughts while his body is pressed up against mine. This is definitely crossing some kind of friendship line. Hisentirefront is pressed against myentireback. Including my butt. Henry’s body is touching my butt. This would be perfect if it was a part of my plan to figure out if Henry has feelings for me, except I can't think at all, let alone figure out how to use this to my advantage.
I stare at his hands, mapping the veins with my eyes, as he continues to pour the flour mixture into the bowl. When he finishes, I shakily pick up the chocolate chips and add them to the bowl. I inhale a deep breath to regain some sort of composure. He put us in this weird situation, so I might as well use it to my advantage. For my investigation, obviously.
I lean back into him, feeling every hard part of his body press against every soft part of mine. He sucks in a breath as I lean against him, watching the chocolate chips incorporate into the batter. We stand there in silence, basically glued together, both watching the batter mix endlessly in the bowl, when I finally speak.
“I think we can put it onto the pan now,” I tell him. The sound is airy and shaky.
“Oh...Yeah. Good idea,” Henry responds, not making a move to peel his body off of mine.
I stand there for a moment, waiting for him to do something. Anything, really. Except he just stands there. Leaning on the kitchen island, essentially gluing me to the spot and trapping me between his arms.
“Uh…Henry?” I ask, both concerned and confused at what is happening and how we even got into this increasingly awkward situation.
“Mhm,” he hums as he leans down towards me, his face in my hair.
“I can’t move unless you do.”
“Oh. Shit.” He says, jumping back like he had touched something too hot and was afraid he had burned himself. Embarrassment crosses his features for a moment before it fades into a slightly forced smile. “Baking sheet. Cookies. Yes.” He spits out, spinning in a circle around the kitchen, looking for the tray.
I bark out a laugh at him spinning around like a dog chasing his tail. He stares at me for a second before he breaks out in booming laughter, breaking the tension. We roll the cookie dough into balls in our hands and place them onto the baking sheet. Occasionally, his eyes flutter to me, then dart away when I make eye contact. While we wait for them to bake, Henry and I work in silence to clean the mess we made in the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen is clean, and the cookies are done. I sprinkle some flaky salt on them for a final touch, then hand one to Henry. He doesn’t waste a second, devouring half the cookie in one bite. A small moan escapes him, and the sound immediately travels to my core. This must be an alternate reality because clearly, something isn’t right. Needing to do something to correct the weird feelings I’m having, I take a split second to decide what I can do to gauge his feelings. The universe must be looking down upon me, because right as I begin to think of ideas, Henry gets chocolate on his cheek.
Not taking another second to contemplate my decision, my hand darts out, grabbing his face. “You have chocolate right…” I swipe the chocolate off his cheek with my thumb. “Here.” Henry’s eyes go as large as saucers as he looks at me, then to my hand on his face, then back to me. I stare into his eyes, trying to decipher the emotions flashing through them. For a split second, I see his eyes drop to my lips, then back to my eyes. It was almost too quick to catch, but I know I saw it. I’m confident.
“Thanks,” Henry says quietly.
