"I was always getting into trouble as a kid, so I spent a fair amount of time peeling potatoes in the kitchen as punishment," he explained. His face softened with the memory. "I liked to help, so I ended up learning."
"You bake." Not only was he handsome, charming, had an accent, but he could cook and bake too? "Maybe you can teach me?"
"I can at least teach you how to make more than macaroni and cheese and Pop-tarts," he replied with a laugh. "We're here."
The car had been stopped for at least thirty seconds without me realizing it. The driver was already outside the door, ready to open it for me. Henry put his hat back on. I hurried out of the car with Henry right behind me.
The restaurant was a total hole-in-the-wall with only a single neon sign advertising its presence. My father and I had found it one night when we ran out of dinners and were both hungry. It was one of my favorite places to get takeout now.
I led Henry through the rough wooden door and into a narrow room. There was just a single man at a counter while several people leaned against the walls waiting for their food. The scent of spices and cooking food filled the room.
"Is there anything you don't like?" I asked Henry. He shook his head. "Would it be okay if I ordered for us then?"
"You know what's good here," he replied. "I'll eat anything."
I grinned and hurried to the counter. "I'll take two number threes, and a order of spring rolls."
The man behind the counter typed it into his ancient cash register and called out a number. Before I had a chance to pull out my wallet, Henry handed the man cash.
"Hey!" I narrowed my eyes at Henry.
"You've got to be faster than that," he said with a smile.
"You win this time," I said, sliding my hand away from my own wallet. Henry just grinned at me.
"I win every time," he replied, looking smug at his payment victory. I just shook my head.
With our order in, Henry pulled me toward one of the corners to wait. If someone walked in and wasn't paying attention, they wouldn't see us at all. We leaned against the wall, our shoulders touching.
"What else do you like to cook?" I asked, watching the other guests waiting for food. The restaurant was always busy, but I knew we wouldn't need to wait long.
"I'm having a hard time thinking of any food but noodles right now," Henry admitted. He sniffed in. "It smells great in here."
He took my hand in his, his thumb rubbing small circles on the spot where my thumb joined my hand. It made it hard not to think about anything but his fingers touching me like that all over my body.
"Do your siblings cook?" I asked, trying to keep my thoughts from straying too far into Henry naked in my bed territory.
"Liam, my older brother, knows how to cook. He was usually in trouble right along with me," Henry explained, his touch still driving me to distraction. "Freddy should have been in there with us, but he's the baby so he gets away with everything."
"What did your mom do with him if she was in the kitchen with you and your brother?" I asked. "Who watched him? Your dad?"
"My mum?" Henry stopped his circles for a moment and looked confused. "Oh. She doesn't cook. Neither of my parents do."
"So who taught you how to cook?" I asked.
"Our order is ready," Henry noticed, not answering my question. He dropped my hand and went to the counter, leaving me behind to puzzle out who was in the kitchen if it wasn't his mother or his father. Maybe a babysitter? Did they have babysitters in Paradisa?
I didn't know much about the country. I would have to ask him later, or look it up. Was it common not to cook in Paradisa? I had always thought they weren't that different from the United States, but probably more like England or France given their proximity. Maybe I was wrong.
I held open the door to the restaurant as Henry carried out our order. I could see steam rising from the Styrofoam boxes and my mouth watered. I was hungry now that I had smelled the food.
The car was waiting for us. I wondered how much it had cost Henry to keep the car waiting, but he didn't seem concerned. I would have to find a way to pay for the fare next time. If he was going to try and swoop in and pay for everything, I would rise to the challenge. It was only fair that I paid my way.
"What did you order us?" Henry asked as we got on the road. My apartment was only a few blocks away. "It smells heavenly."
"You'll just have to see when we get there. But, I will tell you it's awesome."
He grinned at me over the food in his lap.
The car pulled up to my apartment building. For a moment, I thought I saw someone who looked like Andre go into the building, but it was too quick to tell. It was probably just my imagination.
I opened the door, and took the food so that Henry could get out. Now that we were here, my stomach started to get nervous. I was going to be alone with him for the first time. We'd been alone in restaurants and the car, but those were all public places.
In my apartment, we'd be alone for real.
My heart sped up and my stomach tightened. A hot thread of desire wound in my belly, telling me that being alone with Henry was going to be a very good thing for me. It almost erased the food hunger.
"Here's my place," I announced when we came off the elevator. I unlocked the door and pushed it open. "It's not much, but it's mine."
I'd left the curtains open, so the lights of the city filled the dark room. I knew that it wasn't fancy, but apartments in Washington weren't cheap. My little studio apartment went for the price of a house other places.
I turned on the lights, and bit my lip as I watched for Henry's reaction. I wasn't sure why it mattered to me what he thought of where I lived. He looked around, taking in the queen size bed with the pale blue comforter that dominated what little space I had. The white love seat with the blue throw blanket, the small table and two chairs in the corner. It was a small, but open space with bits of bright color on the walls. I liked colorful artwork.
"It's adorable," he told me. He smiled at me. "It suits you."
I let out a little breath I didn't know I had been holding in.
I set our food down on my small table just inside the door as he took off his hat and shoes, placing them neatly on the mat by the door.
"The bathroom is right there." I pointed to the only door in my apartment and then kicked off my own shoes and jacket. "I have some drinks in the fridge. What would you like?"
"Water is fine," he replied. He went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. "Where are the plates?"
"I thought we could just eat out of the containers," I replied with a shrug.
"Oh. I haven't done that before," he admitted. I took his place at the sink, washing my own hands.
"You always use plates?" I dried my hands and looked up questioningly at him as I got out a glass and filled it with water for him. "That seems like a lot of work."
He shrugged. "Not for me."
"I guess if you want plates, we can get them out," I said, already thinking of the dishes. My little apartment did have a dishwasher, but it only held about four plates.
"No, it's fine," Henry replied with a smile. "I'd rather eat out of the containers."
Together we headed back to my small table and took the food out of the paper bag. The room filled with the spicy scent of noodles and savory sauces. I set out two Styrofoam containers of pad Thai and opened up the spring rolls.
"That smells great," Henry said, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath of the steam.
"Just wait until you taste it," I told him, handing him a fork. I pushed one of the containers in his direction.
I took a big fork-full of the delicious noodle dish myself. I loved the spicy sweetness mixed with the noodles and egg. My mouth watered before I even had the bite in my mouth.
Beside me, Henry groaned as he tasted his.
"This is amazing," he mumbled, stuffing another bite into his mouth. "How is this so good? I've had this before, but never like this."
I shrugged. "I've been told that this is close to the real thing sold on the streets in Thailand," I replied. "I've never been, so I don't know how accurate that is."
"I've been to Thailand." Henry chewed and swallowed. "Granted, I only ate in real restaurants. No market stalls."
"You've been to Thailand?" I asked, slurping up another bite of noodles.
"I've been all over," he replied. "I travel a lot."
"With your team?" If he was on a professional rugby team, they would travel the world.
"Yes, and as my job," he replied. He looked into his container, thinking or remembering hard.
"You never did tell me what you do," I told him. "I mean, what your family business is."
Henry stared into his noodles, his jaw tight.