The Hots (mxm)

7. Tomatoes, Eggs and Mozzarella (Alec)

   I finally decide that it is pointless to freak out and no one is planning to murder me, after two hours of desperate attempts to erase the vibrant pictures I saw on the internet from my mind, and take a nap, curled on the sofa. I better occupy myself with something productive. Cooking is what always makes me focused. Yes, I have to figure out the menu for tonight's dinner. We are going to eat, only eat, so I need to prepare food.

   I toss away the blanket and hesitantly reach for the laptop. I hope I closed that browsing session. Did I close it? I peek at the screen in fear. Thank God, I see only my Colosseum screensaver. I might clear the history as well. I definitely do not want to stumble upon anything related to the topic any time soon. It looked so complicated. I wonder how people get to do it at all. Not me! Nope! Nix! No way! That man was actually shoving his... Argh, not again! Food! Think about food!

   I type "What to eat on a first date?" and hit the search button, rolling my eyes. Nobody said this was a date. It will be just dinner with a friend. I shut the laptop closed and sigh deeply. My life was perfectly normal only twenty-four hours ago, boring, but normal. Now I have to feed that tattooed, teasing, annoying, handsome... hot... Gosh!... boy.

    Alright, I can do this! Let's see! I can prepare coquilles Saint-Jacques in a creamy sauce. Nah, too pretentious, time-consuming, and definitely allergenic. What about mustard glazed pork chops? Ugh, it seems too heavy, and the flavor is quite pungent. Not everybody likes it. It should be something that most people enjoy, but not too ordinary. I am still scratching my nape, wondering what could be the best choice when my phone rings. I jump startled and glance nervously at the screen. My heart flips when I see Sam's name.

   "Hey, how's my personal boozer chef?" he asks cheerfully.

   "I'm not..." I loudly protest, but then it downs on me that he is teasing me again. I huff, "Can we forget this incident, please? I am not touching any of your cocktails again. That I can tell you for sure."

   "Tell it to Auntie," he snorts through laughter. "Are you ready with the shopping list?"

   "What shopping list?" I am baffled.

   "Hellooo! The one for the dinner you're going to cook," Sam reminds me, chuckling the entire time.

   I am about to ask, "What dinner?" when a lonely brain cell decides to do its duty and save me from total embarrassment.

   "Ah, yes, right," I mutter, having no idea what else to say. I look desperately around and blurt the first thing that comes to my mind, "I need tomatoes, eggs, and mozzarella."

   "Ok," Sam says casually. "Don't be late! See ya at six."

   I gaze at the phone, startled and discouraged. What was that idiotic combination of products that I have just produced? What am I going to do with it, except some salad? Why do I always lose completely my ability to think every time Sam is involved?

   I am sitting and staring at the opposite wall, waiting for the faithful brain cell to find some friends in my empty head. It takes quite some time. Suddenly, the gears start to turn again. I jump and run to the fridge. There is a neatly sealed package there. I grin from ear to ear. Yes, this will do the magic. 

   Now, what to wear? I open the closet and stare at the total mess inside. I really need to put it in order someday. It will look as if I am trying to impress him if I put on dress pants with a button-down shirt, and besides, I look ridiculous in formal clothes. Jeans and a hoodie are out of question. I love them, but the outfit is too casual. I groan in exasperation. I have nothing suitable to wear.

   At last, I am standing at Sam's door in a pair of white, cropped trousers and a burgundy, plain t-shirt with the sharp awareness that they are both too tight. I did various procedures to try and tame my hair, but it looks just as tousled as any other day. I am squeezing the frozen package in my hand and contemplating whether to ring the bell or run away. 

   The door opens before I can come up with a decision, and all my brain cells instantly submit their resignation. I suspect it is permanent this time.

   "How long were you planning to hang outside?" Sam baits me with a finger and smirks.

   I can not utter a word, too busy to stare at him. I feel so stupid now. What was wrong with the dress shirt? Why didn't I put it on? Sam is so elegant that he can easily appear on the red carpet of any public event he wants and will no doubt be the best-looking man there. The navy blue, fitted suit over a casual, open collar shirt gives him a bad boy vibe that makes my legs as soft as jelly. He is gorgeous. I feel ordinary. Is that a new haircut? I can not take my eyes off that brushed up fringe. Did he do all this for me? His big grin only makes things worse. My heart is racing.

   "Alec, are you ok?" Sam leans closer, studying my face.

   "Mhm, I... I think I need to sit for a while," I mumble.

   "Come in!" He nods towards the door, adding the phrase I fear the most. "I'll make you a cocktail."

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A/N

Hello, at the end of chapter 7!

Thank you to everyone who made it so far! ❤❤❤

Did you like Sam's special look for his date with Alec? 😍

Share your thoughts, ask questions, and criticize if you think it's necessary.

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Love: Anny