Page 137 of Embriagado

Reaching for my water, I took a sip, then placed the glass back on the table.

“I’d rather save up. Besides, I have no fashion sense, so you’d probably hate what I bought either way.”

“You’re right about that.”

Unable to hide my smile, I snorted. “At least I’m not wearing sweats⁠—”

“Ugh. That vile trend. Why don’t we all just go outside in our pajamas and call it a day, huh?”

“I don’t think they’re that bad.”

He side-eyed me. “Says the one wearing a denim button-up.”

This guy… forever kind with his compliments.

“Well, I might dress badly, but let me tell you—” I cut through my steak, juice spilling onto the plate. “—I cook much better meat than this.”

“Is that so?”

Sinking my teeth into the medium-rare steak, I nodded.

“Fuck yeah.” I went back to cutting another piece. “Just wait until I make you asado.”

“So you cook?”

“Nah. Asado ain’t cooking. It’s a fucking culture.”

He snorted, and I looked up from my plate to find him smiling.

That’s new.

“I sometimes forget you’re Argentinian.”

My chest filled with pride in my heritage. “You’re damn right I am⁠—”

“Language.”

I grunted, took another bite, and then said, “My dad taught me how to grill.”

“That must have been nice.”

Yeah, back then, everything was.

“What about you?” I pointed my fork at him.

“I don’t cook.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, no… I meant, where’re you from? You’re fluent in Spanish, and you don’t have an accent when you speak it, so I figured you’re also Latino.” I twisted my lips. “Although you don’t look like it.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re as pale as a ghost.”

“Stereotyping much, don’t you think?”

I scoffed. “Come on.” My cheeks got warmer. “Don’t get all politically correct with me… You know I’m dumb.”

He smiled. “Finally admitting the truth, are you?”