Page 22 of Is This for Real?
“What’d she ask?” Rory is leaning against the white-tiled wall. We’re next in line.
“Whether I’ve seen the moviesIt Happened One NightandThe Awful Truth.”
He looks perplexed. “Is she having a movie night instead?”
“Movie reference questions.”
He nods. We bring over our dough balls to drop them into the oil. The chef is standing by, supervising. The heat radiates off the professional, stainless-steel range.
“Looks like something we shouldn’t try at home,” I say.
“Not until I replenish my fire extinguisher anyway.”
I laugh. “At least at this point, we’d have some food to serve the firemen when they show up.”
We drop the dough balls into the oil, listening carefully to the chef’s instructions. I breathe in that smell of corn oil frying. The oil crackles, and our doughballs transform into puffed tacos—like a magic trick.
The waitstaff clear away the cooking gear and set the long table for four couples. We scoop out our puffed tacos when they’re done and wait by the wall until there’s a place set for us. Across the partition, cooks are yelling that orders are ready, and waitstaff keep coming in and out of the swinging door. The food smells delicious.
We set our plates down next to a new couple, away from the fighting couple. They’re older—in their fifties. We hang up our aprons and chef hats on the hooks on the side wall. I sit on the stool at the table, and my dress slides up. Rory’s gaze lowers to my leg.
I can’t believe it. Zelda is right. I’m channeling the power of Claudette Colbert as she lifts her skirt to hitch a ride inIt Happened One Night. A spark is there to kindle. I swing my foot and let my heel dangle. My stomach flutters, but I focus on compiling my taco, not daring to meet Rory’s gaze if he looks up.
The new couple asks us if we just started dating. I say yes. Rory gives me a smug “see, people believe we’re dating” look.
“How could you tell we just started dating?” I ask. I’ll add this type of detail to my novel.
“It’s the way you two look at each other.”
I change the subject quickly. “So how do you keep the magic alive in your relationship?”
“Oh, we do something like this once a week. Or at least, we try.”
Olivia needs to up her game. The conversation turns to general topics. Rory periodically touches me as he leans across to take more dip or fillings or when he picks up my dropped napkin. I wonder if he’s doing this on purpose or if that’s just what he’s used to doing with a girlfriend. We’ve never been so touchy before—other than at our bizarre brunch yesterday, which was a crazy touchfest. Or else my awareness of his touch has just gone into hyperdrive.
The couple next to us is getting drunk on the wine, and they’re really being touchy-feely. They could give Willow a run for her money. The wife is now feeding the husband a taco.
I look at Rory.
“We should try that when we next eat with Willow and Jamie,” I say.
He laughs. “Are we meeting them again?”
“If Jamie would agree to it. For research purposes, given that my book is about fake dating in front of exes.”
“That brunch didn’t give you enough material?” he asks.
“Yeah, I don’t think we need to see them again.”
The dinner is delicious. We all thank the chefs and leave.
“I really enjoyed that.” His hands are in his pockets as we walk along the street. “It’s too nice a night to end. Nightcap back at my place?”
A nightcap. Interesting choice of words. In college, a nightcap was code for “let’s fool around.” But Rory and I often end up back at his place just to hang out, chatting.
“Sure, we still need to discuss how we met.”
He takes my hand as we walk up the stairs. Butterflies are cavorting in my stomach. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. There’s no smell of smoke when we open the door.
