I poke at the fire with my stick. “Yeah, I make good baked chicken.”
Big whoop, my tone seems to say.
“And you’re a wonder with the slow cooker.”
“Stop, you’re making me blush.” I swat a hand in the air. “Anyone can use a slow cooker.”
“But your recipes are like magic,” Thad tells me, more to Juliet than anyone and I get what he’s trying to do: make me look good.
It seems to be working because she’s watching me again, head cocked, slowly licking the marshmallow off her fingers, and I highly doubt she’s trying to look suggestive but that’s how it’s coming off and I’m here for it.
Er.
I glance away, not wanting to be caught staring.
“Do you cook?” I ask, eating the remaining mallows on my stick—there are two, and I pick at them slowly to allow Juliet time to answer.
“Not really. It’s just me, so...” Her shoulders move up and down in a shrug.
“Yeah, the last time you cooked me dinner I was sick for two days,” Mia jokes, earning a scowl from her boyfriend. If she’s trying to play matchmaker and point out her bestie’s positive traits, that was a fail. “And didn’t you take that cooking class at Le Cordon Bleu so you wouldn’t kill people?”
Her nose goes up. “You had the flu—it was an unlucky coincidence.”
She sounds indignant and rightfully so.
Mia is nitpicking.
“You’re probably right,” Mia amends. “It wasn’t the half raw chicken that made me sick, it was the flu.”
Thad feigns a gag, retching over his chair, and they both laugh.
“Ha ha,” Juliet laments with an eye roll. “I never claimed to be a chef; I do what I gotta do to stay alive.”
We all laugh at that.
She’s cute.
“What she lacks in the kitchen she makes up for on the slopes,” Mia supplies, doing her best to turn the conversation around. “Juliet is a great skier.”
“Skiing? She only mentioned pool badminton as a sport,” I tell the duo, who have gone back to canoodling, feeding each other fireside snacks and peppering each other with kisses.
“Do you ski?” Juliet asks.
“No—I snowboard, sort of. Not well, but I get by.” Actually, I fall a lot but I’m not about to admit that. It’s not as if she’s ever going to see me on the slopes. “Are you any good?”
“I suppose? I joined the ski team when I was in middle school because I had a crush on this kid, Jack—and he was on the ski team. Anything I could do to maximize my stalking,” she laughs. “Even joined the soccer team, too. He did both.”
“And how did that work out?”
“It didn’t. I quit the ski team after I got stuck under the toll rope one night, the coach was shouting at me so loud. I was totally humiliated, being what—thirteen? Never went back after that, although I did continue to ski. And play soccer.”
“You took up two sports just so you could impress a boy?”
“Hey man, I was an idiot, okay? It took me a long ass time to realize I needed to live for myself and not try to please or impress other people. Especially men.” There is a pine cone beneath her chair and she retrieves it from the ground, picking at its seeds, pulling them off one by one.
“There’s nothing idiotic about wanting to please or impress other people. The important thing is you eventually learned that you need to come first. It took me a really long time to realize that; mainly it took getting screwed over by the woman I was living with for me to realize what a dumbass I was being. I wouldn’t call myself a pushover exactly, but I was pretty blind for a really long time.”
I have no idea why I’m telling her all this, especially with the peanut gallery sitting a mere three feet away, no doubt listening to every word I’m saying. I’m sure Thad will have an opinion for me later; my buddy will have zero qualms telling me what he thinks about my little speech and the fact that I’m opening up to Juliet in a group setting.
Ugh, fuck my life.
When it comes to gossip and shit, Thad is horrible.
Loves repeating shit, loves being in the center of it, though he’ll deny liking drama, he seems to be surrounded by it, current girlfriend notwithstanding.
Regardless. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut with Thad nearby taking mental notes.
Juliet shifts in her seat, still picking away at the pine cone, eyes darting between Thad, Mia and myself—I can see she wants to say more but instead, presses her lips together.
Hides a smile.
The fire crackles, sparks glowing in the pitch-black night. Everyone around the fire is quiet tonight, enjoying the calm. I’m assuming we are the only four leaving in the morning considering this parcel arrived later than we did. Several conversations are happening at once; Lionel and Suzanne have their heads pressed together and are laughing about something quietly. Steve and Paul are both sipping on beer, holding hands.