An American Cinderella

“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.”