Page 100 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
MARC: Do you have any food allergies?
DELANEY: No. Why?
MARC: I require accurate information before cooking for someone.
DELANEY: Is this a date or a medical intake form? (wink)
MARC: I guess that depends on you.
DELANEY: Did Marc Kinglsey just joke with me?
MARC: Do you prefer chicken or beef?
DELANEY: Chicken.
MARC: Favorite vegetables?
DELANEY: Is this a trick question?
MARC: No, Hart it’s not.
DELANEY: Asparagus, then.
MARC: Really?
DELANEY: Are you giving me shade for my vegetable choices, Kingsley?
MARC: I’m just surprised. It’s my favorite too.
DELANEY: Glad to hear my choice is acceptable.
MARC: Wine okay?
DELANEY: Are you trying to get me drunk?
I froze. Stared at my screen long enough that my phone locked itself.
DELANEY: Breathe, Kingsley. I’m kidding. I’d never think that about you. Can I bring anything?
MARC: I’m good.
I’d exhaled so hard I fogged up my glasses.
“How’s the risotto?” Mom peered closer to the screen, trying to see around me to the stove.
I checked the pan.
“Taste it and tell me if it’s al dente. It should be a similar texture to perfectly cooked pasta.”
I dipped in a spoon and scooped up enough for a small bite. “It is.”
“Perfect. Turn off the heat. Get your parmesan ready and fried capers to add on top.”
Dad pushed his face in next to Mom’s. “Is this the girl from the animal yoga thing?”
“Dad.” He had an impeccable memory and no sense of timing.
“The one you like, right?”
