Jennie
"But didn't you just get home?" I ask, curious. "How did you have the time?"
"I managed to get out a little early." she shrugs. "I really just got started. It's not done yet. I should probably go check it before something catches on fire." I have a feeling she isn't joking.
I follow behind her as she enters the kitchen. There's something boiling on the stove, and she hastens to stir it. The smell is stronger in here, nearly overwhelming.
"What are you making?" I ask.
She glances at me. "Don't laugh," she says seriously, and I can't help but smile. "I'm trying to make Chicken Marsala. It's the only thing that seemed feasible for me."
I notice the bottle of wine sitting on the counter. The chicken is currently simmering in it, and penne noodles are boiling away on the opposite side of the stove.
"Did you add garlic?" I ask curiously. The smell is very powerful.
"Um, there's garlic bread." she glances at me nervously. "Why?"
"Oh, no reason." I force another smile. "It smells great."
"It's in the oven." she peeks at it through the glass door of her stove and curses. "Fuck!" Like a flash, she grabs an oven mitt and snatches the pan out. The bread is charred to a black crisp and reeks an awful stench once the door is opened. I scrunch my nose and step away, alarmed.
"Is that the bread?" I ask dumbly, because it so obviously is. Lisa is still muttering and swearing under her breath.
"Yes, damn it." she sounds exasperated.
"It looks, um... tasty," I jokingly supply. I just can't help myself. Lisa shoots me a curious look, one mixed with confusion, offense, and helplessness, and suddenly I'm overcome with a bout of hilarity. I laugh openly, much to her dismay.
"I'm glad my cooking skills are entertaining to you," she grumbles. But she doesn't look mad.
"I'm sorry," I say between my giggles. "It's very sweet of you." And it is.
If only her intentions were good.
She throws the bread in the garbage. "Well, I guess the pasta is enough of a carb," she reasons.
"Absolutely. I've never understood the point of eating bread with pasta anyway."
She furrows her brow at me. "Is that right? Cause just last week you were scarfing both of them down."
"I said I didn't understand it, not that I didn't eat it," I clarify with a roll of my eyes. "And is there something wrong with having a healthy appetite?"
"I didn't say that."
"Kind of sounds like you implied it," I say, feigning offense, but I'm really only teasing.
Lisa looks at me, her eyes holding only sincerity as they bore into mine.
"Jennie, you're the most beautiful fucking woman I've ever seen. You could eat ten full meals a day for all I care."
Wow. How's that for romantic?
Nonetheless, it takes my breath away. Not only because of the words, but because of the honesty laced behind them. It's there - I could see it. I could feel it.
I stare at her, somewhat in disbelief, until she breaks our gaze and looks down at the food. "We really need to talk tonight," she says.
Oh yes, we do, I silently agree.
"About?" I inquire. She gives me a small, sad smile.
"After dinner. Okay?" she asks, and I nod in agreement.
Suddenly she covers the food and approaches me, her eyes dark. I don't back down from her - I feel trapped, frozen in place under her gaze.
She stops only inches in front of me. I can feel the heat of her body through her shirt, that mysterious tingle that practically pulls my body to hers. She gazes down at me while I look up at her.
"I missed you last night," she murmurs, stroking my cheek. Her fingers travel across my skin, down my neck, and I quickly close my eyes. I can feel my heart racing.
"I missed you, too," I whisper, and suddenly her lips are pressed against mine. She wastes no time, her tongue immediately pushing through my lips, conquering my mouth. The force pushes me back a step or two, but her hands immediately grasp my waist, holding me steady. Instantly, my hands are around her neck and I tug her close.
The kiss isn't gentle or soft. It's needy. It's desperate.
And I cling to her, aching for more.
