off before concluding that I had the heat on too high, and I definitely had burned my first batch. Then I’d overcorrected so far that the second batch might have been raw. I was on my third attempt when the clock on the stove ticked over to seven p.m.
“Oh my God, it smells delicious in here. What are you making?”
Gus’s voice floated into the kitchen behind me. Dammit, why did he have to be on time? I really could have used more time to practice.
I turned and gave him a sheepish grin.
“Well, they’re supposed to be latkes. But they might be more like mounds of raw potato or burnt hockey pucks, the way this is going.”
Gus’s face lit up and he joined me at the stove. “You made latkes? But I thought you said you hated the holidays.”
“Technically, I think I just said I hate Christmas.”
“Actually, I think technically you just made a grumpy face and answered me monosyllabically when I asked, if you really wanna get down to brass tacks.”
“Okay, fine. But the point is, Hanukkah is different from Christmas and I looked it up and it’s almost over for the year. And with your tattoo and all, I thought maybe you’d be missing some kind of tradition, or you’d be sad you couldn’t spend it with your family and I just…” I trailed off. “This was kinda stupid, wasn’t it?”
“Are you kidding me? This is awesome.” Gus grinned. “I mean, granted, I’m not really missing my family because I don’t know who they are, but still. You did this for me?”
He sounded so pleased that I got embarrassed.
“Don’t get too excited yet. I’m not sure any of these are edible.”
“I’m sure they’ll be great. They smell amazing, at least.”
If you wanted my opinion, it was Gus who smelled delicious. Under all the hot oil wafting through the kitchen, I could still get a whiff of his freshly shampooed hair, and a scent that always reminded me of starlight.
That’s what he was, to me. Magic, beamed in from a completely different place in the universe, brightening up my life.
“Does any of this seem familiar to you?” I asked. “I thought maybe it might help jog a memory or two loose.”
He smiled sweetly. “Not yet. But I have a feeling this is going to be a pretty good memory going forward.” He pointed to one of the latkes sizzling in the pan. “Is that one ready to turn?”
I looked down with a start. It was easy to get distracted with Gus so close to me. That one did look a little crispy around the edges, so I slid my spatula underneath and flipped it. The oil sprayed a little as it landed, but the side that was facing up now was perfectly golden brown.
I looked at Gus with suspicion. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? That’s the best one I’ve made so far, and I probably would have let it burn on that side without you.”
“Good thing you’ve got me around then, huh?” Gus wiggled his eyebrows, and my heart did its best to achieve escape velocity, beating so hard it practically launched itself through my chest.
He was right there, and I could feel the electricity between us. Maybe I should just give in. He was clear about his desires. And my brain had been doing nothing but providing me with endless ideas of how I could give him exactly what he wanted.
If I could just get my conscience to take a vacation.
“Holden? Is something wrong?”
Gus furrowed his brow, and I realized I’d been staring at him for God knew how long, wondering who’d given him permission to look so perfectly fuckable, freshly scrubbed, wet hair, chunky sweater, his chest probably bare underneath, just waiting for me to—
“Holden! The latkes!”
I tore my eyes away from him just in time to see the remaining latkes start to smoke.
“Oh, shit.” I shoved the spatula under the nearest one and flipped it over in haste. Hot oil splashed out of the pan and landed on the back of my hand. “Fuck.” I looked at Gus in concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Gus, because he wasn’t a fucking idiot, getting dreamy-eyed and forgetting reality around him, had stepped back from the stove ahead of time, and avoided the splatter.
“Do you want me to take over?” He held his hand out for the spatula, and I gave it to him with a rueful smile. “Go take care of your hand,” he said. “I’ll work