be back in like an hour or so.”
“Sounds great. What are you thinking for dinner?”
“I don’t know…maybe some rice and salsa?”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Seriously? I’m starved after that run.”
“Well, I did pick up some different food this week,” he says, opening up the refrigerator. “You’re welcome to make whatever you want.”
He throws on a ribbed tank top and I stare at him as he leaves through the back door.
What a peculiar man.
Grant seems like he just does things for others constantly, or at least for me. Helps me move, comes to support me at my meet, brainstorms crazy ideas to pay my tuition. I wonder when’s the last time anyone’s done anything for him?
Opening up his fridge, I see that he’s got a couple of steaks, some potatoes, onions, garlic, and butter, so I go to work.
Forty-five or so minutes later, Grant comes in, sweat-glazed from outside.
“Holy shit, it smells amazing in here,” he comments as soon as he comes in. “I’m starved!”
I smile, pointing to the small table in his kitchen I’ve set up with plates and forks.
“Just thought I’d say thank you for helping me out today. So, I whipped up a little something. Is medium okay on the steak?”
“That’s perfect.” He steps behind me and takes a big, audible whiff of the stove area. His midsection presses against my backside and he lands a hand on my upper arm, sending a warm jolt of butterflies through me. “Maya, you didn’t have to do this.”
“But it’s okay that I did?” I ask.
“Of course. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. How about I crack open a bottle of red wine? I think I have some Italian.”
“That sounds amazing.”
I finish cooking our steaks, then put them on the plates along with the garlic mashed potatoes I made.
The audible pop of the wine uncorking sounds behind me, followed by the glug glug glug of the wine being poured into glasses. Grant comes to the table and we sit down, and look at each other.
“This feels so domestic,” I joke.
Grant grins, and says in a sarcastically concerned voice, “So, honey. How was your day?”
I laugh. “Just the usual housewife stuff. Keeping my body in shape for you. I did go on a run with this really buff guy.”
Grant raises one eyebrow, feigning being irritated. “Excuse me? You were with who?”
Giggling, I lean forward and put my hand on his thick forearm. “It’s totally okay. He’s put me firmly in the friend zone. He’s one-hundred percent only a friend.”
“He put you in the friend zone? Interesting.”
“You don’t think he has?”
“Well, I think you never know…until you do that test your friend mentioned.”
I remove my hand from his forearm, take a swig of my wine and smirk. “Well. He won’t tell me what his test is.”
“I mean, everyone knows what it is. It’s the kiss test.”
“The kiss…test?”
“Yes. You can do all the back and forth with someone you want, but when you kiss them, that’s when you know for sure if you’re meant to be just friends.”
“But what if we’re just both two very good kissers? Like, objectively good kissers?”
The smile fades from Grant’s face, and he takes a sip of his wine. “I can’t tell you the difference. You can only feel it.”
A grin pulls at my mouth. “The Woodsmen Zenmaster is back.”
“You know what I mean, though. Some things aren’t meant to be over-explained. They’re meant to be felt. Experienced. The way to throw a curveball in baseball. This delicious, perfect-tasting steak. And a kiss to determine if the chemistry is there or not.”
I nod, and, slightly flustered, turn the conversation to other topics. The cheap price of wine in Italy. The hilarious correspondence I’ve had so far with my host-mom in Florence. Anything to take the heat off of the moment. After we’re done, we put our dishes in the dishwasher and head out on the patio to finish drinking our wine in the heat of the night.
Try as I might, my mind keeps coming back to one conversation thread. “So, you’re telling me you would know—just by a kiss—how good a relationship would be with a woman?”
Grant nods. “Don’t believe me?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Well, you dated what’s-his-face during fall term.”
I cringe a little. “Victor.”
“And that lasted…”
“Three weeks. But I knew from the beginning we wouldn’t be anything really special. I got this funky feeling in my gut. I just knew it wasn’t meant to be.”
Grant points his finger straight up in the air. “That’s the feeling I’m talking