Date Me, Bryson Keller(58)

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Hannah. It’s nice to meet you, too, Kai,” Hannah says.

“How was your trip, Mom?” Crystal asks.

“Fine, until I heard my precious daughter was hurt.” She crosses the room to Crystal. “Are you okay?”

Crystal gives a thumbs-up with the hand in the cast. “It’s just a fracture.”

“And yet she made me miss school to babysit her,” Bryson says.

“We’re family, it’s what we do,” Crystal says.

“You must be hungry,” Bryson says to his mom. “I’ll cook something. Come on, Kai.” Bryson leaves the family room and I follow him to the kitchen. Even though I’ve seen it before, the opulence amazes me all over again.

    “Have a seat,” Bryson says. He taps the barstool before heading to the oven to preheat it. Bryson then moves to the large double-door fridge and opens it. He peers inside for a while. Then he carries an armful of ingredients to the counter before returning for more. I watch as he works. He rinses the vegetables and starts to chop them.

“What are you making?” I ask. I swing from side to side.

“A bacon breakfast casserole as the main, something with greens, and then something sweet for you.” He taps the waffle iron.

“For me?”

“Yeah. You said you like sweet things.”

“You remembered?” I ask.

“Of course,” Bryson says. “I always pay attention to you.”

I feel my face start to redden, and to distract him I ask, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Cute.” Bryson laughs. “Just sit there and enjoy the show.”

And so I do. Never before did I think cooking could be sexy, but watching Bryson work changes my mind. Judging from the happiness that he radiates, it’s clear that he loves cooking.

“Maybe this can be your new dream?”

“You haven’t tasted my food. How do you know it’s any good?”

    I shrug. “You just look so happy. So I figure if it can make you this happy, then it should be your new dream.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

Bryson and I continue to talk as he cooks. And it is effortless and easy when my life feels anything but.

Eggs crack, bacon sizzles, and time passes. Soon the kitchen is filled with an aroma that makes my stomach growl. Bryson must hear it, because he smiles.

“Come here and try this,” he says. “It’s scrambled eggs with green peppers and mushrooms.” He blows on the spoon before holding it up between us. I lean forward and taste it. Flavor bursts in my mouth.

Bryson’s mother enters the kitchen when we’re standing like that. She barely offers us a glance, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.

“He’s a really good cook, isn’t he?” she says. She leaves with the bottle of water that she came for.

I pull back—startled.

“I think she knows,” I whisper.

Bryson studies my mouth. He reaches for it and wipes away a bit of egg. I feel his thumb dance across my top lip, and I freeze. Later, I will recall this moment and relive it in vivid detail, but for now I am simply numb.

Hannah reenters the kitchen. Like a breath being held, everything stops. Bryson’s mother looks at us before picking up an apple from the fruit bowl and leaving again.

“She most definitely knows,” Bryson says. He sighs, but it doesn’t hold any fear or sadness or anything. It’s a simple Oh well. He leans down and gives me a peck on my lips before starting to stir the pot once more.

    I can’t help but feel envious and think about how different our situations are. Bryson’s family has barely batted an eye at us. In comparison to the disaster that was last night, this feels so strange. I sigh. Why couldn’t my parents have been this chill?

“You’re not allowed to think about anything bad today,” Bryson says. He bumps me with his hip. “Try to forget for a bit.”

I exhale, releasing the bad thoughts. Bryson’s right. Today I just want to relax and enjoy myself. I just want to enjoy one day before I have to go face the storm.

I return to my seat and watch as Bryson mixes the batter for the waffles. When he’s done, I help him set the table. We carry over the freshly baked casserole, the scrambled eggs, and the waffles with whipped cream—the only thing that’s store-bought. Soon we’re all seated and ready to eat.

“It looks so good,” I say.

“If I’d had more time, I’d have properly planned a menu.” He offers me a tight-lipped smile. Is he nervous to have me eat food he’s cooked?

“My brother has skills to pay the bills,” Crystal says as she digs in. “So good.”

“Thank you for the food, son,” Bryson’s mother says before she, too, starts eating.

I take my first bite and savor the taste.

    “How is it?” Bryson asks me.

“So good.”

“Really? I’m glad you like it.” Bryson’s smile grows now. He shows off the dimple that has become one of my favorite things about him. I mirror him.

“It’s so cute I might die,” Crystal teases. She’s stopped eating and is watching the two of us.