We fell into a rhythm as he cooked. It was familiar in a way that made my chest ache — the sound of the knife against the cutting board, the sizzle of meat hitting the hot pan, the way he moved around the kitchen like he'd done it a thousand times.
Because he had. He'd been cooking since he was tall enough to reach the stove. His parents' restaurant had been his second home. The kitchen was where he felt safe.
He told me about his team. The endless travel. The pressure of being in the public eye.
"Last week, my coach made us run drills for three hours," he said, stirring the sauce with a wooden spoon. "Three hours, Teddy. Because someone laughed during his pre-game speech."
"Was it you?"
"...I would never"
I laughed. "Of course its you"
"It was funny and I think it's ridiculous to punish us just because someone laughed" he defended.
"Your coach is going to bench you" I said laughing.
"I'm too good to bench," he said, but he was smiling. "He needs me. The team would fall apart without me."
"Oh please" I rolled my eyes "You're not that important"
"Yes I am" he said "I run that team."
"Shut up," I said, but I was smiling.
I told him about work. My father's expectations. How boring things had gotten lately.
"I spent six hours yesterday reading contracts," I said.
"Six hours?" He asked.
"Yes six hours. I wanted to stab my eyes out with a pen." I said.
"I could never" he shakes his head in disbelief.
"I fell asleep at my desk. My assistant found me drooling on a merger agreement."
He laughed. "You must have looked so cute."
"Oh please" I said laughing. He didn't think I was cute at all.
He told me about the last game — the one I'd just watched from outside the stadium. The winning shot in the third period. The way the crowd had roared when the puck hit the net.
"You watched?" he asked, glancing at me over his shoulder.
"From outside," I said. "I couldn't see much. But I heard the cheers."
"That was me," he said, and there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Assisted, but mostly me."
"Yeah right" I said.
"Come on you know I carry the team on my back" Rhett said smugly. I rolled my eyes smiling.
You could tell he wasn't a huge fan of his coach. Every time he mentioned him, his jaw tightened slightly. His voice dropped half an octave. He stirred the sauce a little harder than necessary, the spoon scraping against the bottom of the pan.
"He's not that bad," I said.
"He made me run because I yawned during a team meeting."
"Uhm..."
"He's a nightmare, Teddy. A beautiful, well-paid nightmare with a whistle and an anger problem."
I laughed. It felt good to laugh like this. It felt like being seventeen again, sitting on his kitchen floor, complaining about teachers and homework and parents who didn't understand.
It felt like coming home.