Page 76 of Let's Talk About Love
She waited for him to laugh or smile at the very least, but he asked her with a straight face. “Okay,” she agreed. Holding the bowl, she stirred it. “If you don’t like it, I can go buy something else.” She blew on a spoonful to cool it down. “But I’m telling you, if gods got sick, they’d kick ambrosia straight into the underworld and eat this instead. I made it perfectlyandfrom scratch.”
She watched his face for any sign that he didn’t like it. After he swallowed, he looked at her expectantly. She fed him spoonful after spoonful. He ate slowly, but finished the entire bowl.
“Can I have some more?”
“You want seconds?” She could barely contain her joy as she darted back into the kitchen, filled up his bowl, and headed back to the room. He ate just as slowly, but still finished all of it.
“That was really good. I knew you could cook.”
“I still hurt myself.” She showed him the burn on her forearm. It was important to stay humble… but… She did it! She cooked! And didn’t maim herself! And it was good! “Doesn’t mean I could do it again.”
Placing the bowl on the nightstand, she helped him drink some water. “You should sleep. I’m gonna hang out in the front. Call me if you need me.”
Before she could walk away, he reached for her again. “Please stay.”
“All right. Only until you fall asleep,” she warned. Lying with her back to him, they spooned, his arms around her waist and forehead on the back of her neck.
Alice awoke to the medicine alarm begging to be thrown across the room. She shut it off and rolled over. The sun had already gone down.
His body curled toward her, but his hands were shoved under the pillow and only a quarter of his face was visible.
(If Alice got sick, then she got sick, because she was in too deep to back out now.)
She pushed back that bit of his hair that never seemed to want to stay with the rest.
She kissed the small patch of cheek exposed to her.
He inhaled deeply in his sleep, mumbling her name.
She decided to let him sleep longer.
The spare room was also filled with boxes, but a few were already sealed. The futon was gone, all the pictures had already been removed from the walls, and the closet was nearly empty.
An emerald-green photo album still covered in plastic wrap sat on top of the desk. Loose photos were strewn across the top—Alice froze, heart hammering in her chest. The majority of the pictures were of her.
Was he really going to put her pictures in there?
She made it into his photo collection?
Really?
Alice trembled as she sat down on the desk chair, legs over the armrest. A few pictures of her at work made her frown, a couple of her sleeping made her cringe, but most of them were from when they were out and about (including one of Alice in her Velma costume from the first night they had spent together!). She picked up one: their first basketball game together. He sat behind her with his arms around her, holding the camera. She leaned on his chest, their cheeks touching. Wearing matching hats, they cheesed together, gums and teeth out in full force. Smiling, she set it to the side.
Another one: after he’d convinced her to go on a hot-air-balloon ride. She had refused to let go of him the entire time—her knuckles locked up from holding on to his jacket too tightly. In the picture, Takumi looked fantastic and smiled like he was paid to do it; Alice looked scared and stressed with her face turned slightly into his. The world stretched out as far as the lens could capture it before fading into the blue sky behind them. She set that one to the side, too.
The next one she picked up made her chuckle: it was of her trying not to laugh/cry as she bottle-fed one of the abandoned puppies at the animal shelter. She had gasped and let loose a high-pitched whine of “Oh my God, he’s peeing on me!” while the puppy, unbothered, continued to eat. Takumi had laughed so hard he turned bright red.
Alice paused to count—how had they crammed so many moments Takumi considered important into such a short period of time?
“What are you doing?” Takumi stood in the doorway, disheveled and topless, rubbing his eyes.
“Looking at pictures,” she answered. “You seem to have misplaced your shirt.”
“It’s hot,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Are you going to come back to bed?”
“It’s probably not a good idea for me to continually bask in the presence of your royal germiness. If I get sick, how will I take care of you?”
“We can be sick together.” He closed his eyes, forehead on the wall. “The wall feels nice.”
