Steamroller

God.

Like it really meant that much to him, like it meant anything at all. How deluded did I have to be to think that I was actually that important to a guy like Carson Cress?

“So what do you want me to tell him if I see him?” Matt asked me when I was on my way out.

I shook my head. “He won’t notice.”

“Who won’t notice?” Kurt asked.

“He might not. But what if he does?” Matt pressed.

“If he asks, tell him the truth.”

“Tell who the truth?”

“Will you shut up?” I snapped at the birthday boy.

“So I should tell him that you’re blowing off the party he invited you to, to cook for Kurt Butler’s lame-ass birthday party?”

“Hey,” Kurt snapped at Matt.

“That I promised to do a month ago,” I added.

“Where have you been, Cooksey? I seem to recall you fucking Vince over for some girl.”

“You know what, Kurt—”

“Oh, fuck you, Matt, that was a total douche move, man.”

“Can both of you shut the hell up?” I asked, shoving Kurt out the door into the hall and turning on Matt. “If he even notices, tell him I follow through on my promises unless one trumps the other.”

“He won’t understand.”

“Again, he won’t even notice.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Sure. Loser pays the electricity bill.”

“You’re just all giddy now because you’re actually gonna have some extra money to buy some clothes with or see a movie.”

“I don’t need to buy new clothes. I have yours now.”

He laughed at me. “As if anything of mine would fit your scrawny ass.”

I sighed. “I am glad you’re back.”

“I know,” he affirmed softly.

Kurt’s voice drifted back from the hall. “You guys wanna hold the make-out session for later?”

“Fuck you, Butler!” Matt barked at him as I walked out and closed the door in his face.

“So who you tryin’ to fuck?” Kurt asked.

“Classy,” I grunted before I pushed him down the hall.

“What?”

Strangely enough, the out-of-body experience I’d been having for the first part of the day started to dissipate and I felt better. I had to focus on a task, and even though it was not exactly the way I had been planning to spend my first day off in two weeks, it worked out because it grounded me.

Once I was at Kurt’s house off campus, which he shared with three roommates, I remembered who I was. My day had been surreal, but it tipped back to center once I started cooking.

I had always loved to cook. My mother had taught me how to make a lot of Mexican dishes that her mother had taught her, and I had been doing the majority of the cooking by the time she met Gary. After I moved out of there and in with Matt and his family, I had wanted to do what I could to show them my appreciation, so I offered to cook. At first Mrs. Cooksey had been hesitant, but when she realized I could actually do it and everyone liked it, she let me cook more often and started teaching me to make the things she liked. So by the time I hit college, I could cook pretty well. Whenever I had the time and the money, I did it.

Kurt and I met in philosophy class first semester of college and started talking about Chinese food because we were both starving. I told him if he bought the stuff, I would whip up some broccoli beef that he would like. It turned out he loved it, wanted to marry it, and so whenever he had extra money that didn’t go to buying weed, he invited people over for small get-togethers, and I would cook. We had a fantastic division of labor: he got what I told him to, and I prepared everything. When I walked into his kitchen that afternoon, both of us schlepping in bags of groceries, I was surprised to turn and see him looking at me oddly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were thinking of bailing on me.”

“I’m sorry about that. I just forgot because I’ve been working so much. I promise it would have hit me at some point today.”

“Am I cockblocking you with this party?”

“No.” I chuckled. “You’re fine. And it’s your birthday anyway, and this is all I can do for you, since I’m poor and shit.”

“Your cooking is a treat, and I get to show off. I’m good.”

I gave him a pat on the shoulder, and then he went outside to grab more bags from his little Honda Civic hatchback that we had filled up. There was so much cooking to do so I had to get started. It was nice that Kurt’s girlfriend, Eleanor—Ellie—was going to help me with the preparation. I needed someone to start chopping.

“What is that?” Ellie asked, watching me.

“That’s coarse black pepper and fine, you need both, and red onions, cumin, garlic, chili powder, salt—gotta have salt—lemon juice for the acidity, and vinegar, and—”