An American Cinderella

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.

“Don’t tell me, you’re actually an assassin. Your whole family line goes back into the ages as assassins and if you tell me, you’ll have to kill me,” I teased, trying to make him smile.

“You’re closer than you think,” he replied, but at least he cracked a smile. He looked up from his noodles. “I work for the government.”

“Like me,” I said with a friendly grin. I picked up one of the crispy spring rolls. “Where else have you been?”

“It’s more of where I haven’t been,” he replied. He also reached over and picked up a spring roll. It crunched as he bit into it. “I’ve been just about everywhere.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Where?”

“You want me to list them?” He took a deep breath and squinted one eye. “Botswana, Cameroon, Ghana, Kenya, Lesotho, Malawi, Mozambique, Nigeria, South Africa, Swaziland, Rwanda, Seychelles, Sierra Leone, Uganda, Tanzania, Zambia, India, Malaysia, Pakistan-”

He rattled them off as almost one string of letters rather than individual countries. The places spilled out of him like water. I had been expecting less than ten countries. I held up my hands as he worked his way through various continents.

“I think I get the idea,” I said with a laugh. “You’ve been everywhere.”

He nodded and took another bite of food.

“What about you?” he asked, looking interested. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been to Mexico. And technically, I’ve been to international waters. So that should count as a country.” I grinned at him. “So, we’re kind of close in number.”

He laughed, the sound making my heart speed up. God, he had an amazing laugh. It did things to the pit of my stomach that made me want more.

“What else should I know about you?” I asked, leaning forward on the table. “Other than you’re an assassin who has been everywhere.”

He glanced up at me and evaluated my face. I grinned and ate the last of my noodles.

“I was also in the military,” he admitted. He looked up and shrugged. “I don’t think I told you that yet either.”

“I think you might have said something, but not much.” I shook my head and wondered what else I didn’t know about him. He looked so normal. How did someone who looked so regular have so many interesting things about him?