They spent a few minutes picking out junk food at a convenience store and then got a bag of tacos. When they got back, Jack moved the coffee table out of the way and spread the duvet on the floor in front of the TV like a picnic blanket. A really expensive picnic blanket stuffed with Turkish goose down, she thought with a smirk.
Britt deposited her plastic bag of chips and salsa and chocolate bars on the counter and took the tacos to the blanket. Jack had opened a couple of cold bottles of beer and some paper plates. He cued up Die Hard 2 and they settled in to watch the movie and munch their late night snack. Britt kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back against the couch. She took a monstrous bite of her soft taco and sighed with satisfaction. She felt a great deal better than she had an hour ago lying in bed feeling so terribly far away from Jack whom she loved so dearly. Halfway through the movie she jumped up to her feet.
“Shit, I left the cream cheese out!”
“What?” Jack asked, pausing the movie.
“I bought cream cheese and forgot to put it in the refrigerator. I want to show you the only thing I really know how to make besides Lean Cuisines and premade cookie dough.”
Britt unwrapped the brick of cream cheese, set it on a plate and dumped a jar of salsa on top of it. Opening the tortilla chips, she offered it to Jack.
“It’s Mexican dip!” she declared victoriously.
“I’ve been to Mexico. They didn’t dump things on top of Philly cream cheese,” he deadpanned.
“Right, well, this is Mexican dip by way of Jersey. It’s delicious. Quit worrying about authenticity and just try it. It’s excellent.”
“It looks repulsive. No offense.”
“Why do people say that...’no offense’ when obviously the statement was insulting?”
“I mean I’m not trying to insult you personally nor do I wish to materially damage my future opportunities to get in your pants based upon the declaration that I think the dip looks nasty. There’s a hard brick of cold wet cheese under that tomato slop. That is fundamentally wrong.”
“No, it’s not. Here.”
Britt defiantly plunged a tortilla chip into the concoction and scooped up cold white cheese and chunky garden salsa. She shoved it in Jack’s face as if in a challenge.
“No thanks. Really,” he said, turning aside.
“Be brave. Taste it.”
“Fine. As long as you promise to back off of any attempts you may be cherishing to get your own cooking show. Because this is demented.”
“People would love to learn these recipes. Like if they were plural. If I knew other things to...pour over cream cheese. I bet like chocolate syrup and nuts would be good...like a little cheesecake.”
“Stop. Please. I’ll try this one if you won’t invent recipes.”
“Wimp,” she said.
He took the chip and bit off the smallest particle imaginable. He raised his eyebrows, swallowed and ate the rest of the chip.
“Okay, I was wrong. That’s tremendously satisfying.”
“I’ll have you know I learned that recipe from my college roommate.”
He took another bite and laughed, then scooped up more dip with a new chip and piling more chips on his plate.
“I’m so glad we did this. Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome. I think it’s good for us both, actually.”
“You’re probably right. I mean you were right about this strangely addictive dip,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his.
They sat side-by-side watching the rest of the movie. Her head nodded against his shoulder and she slept. Jack shifted slightly to get his arm around her. They sat like that for hours, the blank gleam of the television screen illumining the dark room, a litter of chips and taco wrappers strewn across the duvet, and Britt and Jack in each other’s arms.
Chapter 11
She woke to find him asleep, his weight leaning against her. She wriggled away, settling his head carefully on a fallen couch cushion with a smile. She knew he needed the rest. She took a quick shower and was lamenting his lack of a blow dryer when she heard him up and about in the living room. She hurried in and started picking up the trash from their picnic.