Out on the Serve (Out in College 7)

“Got it.” He smiled as he sautéed the onions. “You know I’ve actually done this a couple of times.”

“No offense, but you’ve been doing it wrong. Not terribly wrong, but…whatever. Do it your way. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t interfere. I just…”

“Oh, please,” he huffed. “I’m not easily offended. I’m self-taught in the kitchen. My mom worked late, so we fended for ourselves. My sister was better at it than me. I was a breakfast-for-dinner guy until I figured out how to use a grill. But I’m still iffy when it comes to anything involving a real recipe. Who taught you how to cook?”

“My parents are both pretty good in the kitchen.”

“You’re lucky. I was eating Cheerios for longer than I should admit. I hate them now. I’ll eat oatmeal all day long and bagels are still one of my faves, but Cheerios…no, thanks. I don’t care what flavor they are—Honey Nut, Plain, Yogurt Blast…fucking gross. Did you know they actually have Peanut Butter Chocolate Cheerios now too?” he asked, shaking his head in mock disbelief as he tapped the wooden spoon against the pan. “These look lucent to me.”

“Translucent,” I corrected.

“Same thing. Come check.”

“It’s not the same thing,” I grumbled under my breath. I heaved a sigh, then peered over his shoulder and inhaled a whiff of Elliot. He smelled like sunshine and ocean spray. I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded brusquely. “They look fine.”

“I’m going to substitute stupendous for fine ’cause I’m an optimist by nature. So, how was your day?”

“Elliot.”

“Yeah?” He inclined his head toward the fridge. “Hey, you look serious. Must have been a rough one. Grab a beer and tell me all about it.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want a beer,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair. “I just need to get something off my chest. A few things, actually.”

“Girl problems? Dude, you and me both. Sophie keeps asking about my ex. It’s getting weird.”

“Anna? No, wait. Don’t tell me.” I held up my hand like a stop sign, then waved my arms. “And don’t talk.”

“What’s wrong? Get that beer. You look like you need one and—”

“Oh, my God! I don’t want a fucking beer!” I yelled.

Elliot visibly jolted. I did too, and with good reason. I didn’t yell. Ever. I was mild-mannered and easygoing.

At least I used to be.

Elliot propped the spoon on the edge of the pan and turned the burner off. Then he pursed his lips and fixed me with a worried frown.

“What’s wrong, Braden?” he asked, closing a cupboard door before leaning against the counter.

I pointed at the door like a maniac. “That’s what’s wrong!”

“Excuse me?”

“That cupboard and those drawers.”

“Huh?”

I threw my hands in the air and paced three unsatisfying steps and back again. “I just cleaned this place. Literally just cleaned it. I wiped down the counters, I dusted, I vacuumed, and I mopped the fucking floor. I was gone for ten minutes. Ten measly minutes. How is this mess possible?”

Elliot’s forehead creased in consternation. “Wait a sec. You’re mad at me because…the cupboard was open?”

“No. That’s not it.” I shook my head vehemently. “I’m mad because there’s sand all over the clean floor.”

“O-kay…I get it.”

“No, you don’t get it. There’s always sand on the fucking floor, and the cabinets are always open. So yeah, I’m a little tired of it. Or maybe I’m mad because I took out the trash and cleaned the bathroom…again.”

“Okay. You want me to clean more,” he said carefully.

“More? Elliot, you haven’t cleaned once since I moved in, and to be perfectly honest, if you did, you didn’t do a great job.”

Elliot scratched his scruffy jaw and frowned. “I thought I did a decent job.”

“You didn’t.” I skirted the island and grabbed the bill sitting on my mom’s care package, pushing it across the counter toward him. “And this…this is for you. Did you forget to pay the water bill?”

“Uh…” He tore open the envelope and read the letter. “I paid it online.”

“Oh. Yeah, well…it has to be done in a timely manner. You can’t pay bills when you feel like it. You have to be vigilant and organized and…”

“Dude. Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to continue my tirade, but the kindness in his eyes overwhelmed me. “I’m…I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, Bray…”

He turned the burner to its lowest setting, then crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. A thorough once-over from a shirtless Elliot was more intimidating than I would have thought. I avoided his gaze, staring at his chest instead. Big mistake. His abs were a thing of beauty, toned and sculpted like they’d been cut from a block of marble. A light dusting of hair trailed south from his belly button. No one rocked low-slung board shorts quite like Elliot. And what the hell were we talking about?