Do You Remember

Oh my god, I can still taste it.
It was absolutely brilliant.
I couldn’t believe that you could cook so well – never in all the years that we’d been friends had I seen you in the kitchen doing anything other than raiding the pantry and refrigerator for snack foods or drinks.
You never mentioned that you were able to cook, either.
I thought that we’d covered absolutely every topic in the universe in the twelve years we’d been friends, but obviously we never discussed cooking… because then I would’ve known that you were a good cook… and… yeah. I’m rambling.

ANYWAY, so, it was a massive surprise when you invited me over to yours one night.
Well, actually, that wasn’t a surprise, you always invited me around, but it was a surprise when I let myself into your house and I could smell food cooking.
I had frowned in confusion – your parents were on a weekend away somewhere and usually when you’re home by yourself or with only me, you just ate Mac & Cheese out of a packet, which I think is totally disgusting, but that might be because I had eaten Mac & Cheese with a stomach bug once when I was little and – I know I’ve grossed you out more than once saying this, but you can deal with it once more – I puked it up and it looked exactly the same as before I’d eaten it.
Ugh.

And what do you know; I’ve gotten off topic AGAIN!
I really wish I could plug up my thoughts sometimes and stop myself from boring you stupid with my constant rambling…
Yeah, so I was surprised when I walked through your front door and I smelled something other than that processed cheese crap that I usually smelled when your parents were away.
It smelled delicious and I wandered into the kitchen to find you standing near the stove, stirring something in a large silver pot.
You hadn’t noticed I’d arrived so I sneaked up to you and grabbed your waist, making you jump.

"Josh!” you squeaked, and I laughed before wrapping my arms fully around you and kissing the back of your neck, making you shudder.
You still weren’t quite used to all the affection and it made me smile knowing that I was making you blush with every kiss or hug or suggestive remark.

I didn’t blame you, though; we were only entering our fourth month of being a couple.
It was just different for me because I’d been dreaming about us being like we were for years because I’m a freak, and it was really only playing out my fantasies. Wait, that sounded suss, didn’t it? What I meant was that our relationship was exactly like what I had dreamed about and because I’d played out… Oh god, I’m just digging myself a bigger hole.

MOVING ON!

So, I wrapped my arms around your waist and kissed your nape before leaning over your shoulder to look into the pot you were stirring.
Something tomato-y was bubbling from the heat of the stove and I could tell there was some sort of meat in there, but I couldn’t tell what.
Anyway, it smelt absolutely mouth-watering.

“It’s bolognaise sauce, Joshy,” you told me, and my stomach growled at just the thought.
Loudly.
You giggled before lifting the lid of another pot, “And that’s the spaghetti. And there’s garlic bread in the oven.”

I literally began drooling, you had known for years that spaghetti bolognaise was my favourite meal and the thought of garlic bread made it that much better.
You’ve always laughed at me whenever we went to a restaurant because the first thing I would do is order garlic bread.
So I was ready to attack you with kisses as soon as the words “garlic bread” popped out of your beautiful lips, but you would have none of it.
You wouldn’t let me turn you around for fear of letting the sauce burn and I whined before you told me to shut up and go sit at the table in the dining room.

I was confused; we usually sat at the breakfast bar.
I reminded you of this and you glared at me before pecking my lips and pulling my arms away from your waist.

“Just do it,” you said with pretend menace lacing your voice.

I widened my eyes and backed away, pretending to be scared, before turning around and entering the dining room like you instructed.
I had never seen it look so beautiful.

A pure white table-cloth with gold placemats to stop any spills from getting on the table-cloth, which would inevitably happen, especially with me eating there.

Gold candle holders were placed strategically in the middle, with lit white candles filling them, their soft glow making the setting that much more beautiful.

Two wine glasses were sitting at the top of the placemats, half-filled with a dark substance.

Gold knives, forks and spoons (who knows where you managed to find gold ones, but I’m glad you did, they worked so well with the rest of the setting) were in their correct places on top of the placemat, but the piece de resistance was the single red rose that sat in a thin glass vase in the middle of the table right near the candle holder.

“Jo-osh! You were supposed to be sitting,” you whined from behind me.
I had been admiring the incredible work you had done with the dining room that I had completely forgotten your instructions.
You grabbed my shoulders and marched me over to the table, shoving me down into my seat before walking back into the kitchen.

I sat staring at the rose for a few seconds until you returned holding a glass plate with garlic bread on it.
You carefully sat it down in the middle, telling me not to touch it until you came back with the rest of the food. I pouted, but withdrew my hand that was inching towards the plate.

“Good boy,” you said, patting my hair as if I were a dog, before dancing into the kitchen once more.

Before I knew it, two large plates piled up with spaghetti and tomato sauce were sitting on the table in front of us.
My stomach growled again, and you laughed before telling me to dig in.

I immediately picked up my fork and twirled the spaghetti around it expertly.
Doing my best to not slop it all over everything, I stuck my fork in my mouth and chewed.
I had figured out that you would’ve started eating by now too, but when I looked over at you, your plate had not been touched and you were staring at me nervously.

“Well?”

“Absolutely de-fucking-licious. Now, would you like a taste?”

“I have my —”

I cut you off by placing my mouth on yours and forcing my tongue in between your lips.
We made out for a few minutes before you pulled away, panting loudly.

“—o-own,” you finished, blushing like mad.

“Now you may eat your own,” I told you.
“Oh, thank you,” you replied sarcastically, before picking up your fork and twirling it around your pasta.

We ate in silence, just enjoying each other’s company for a while until I asked you why you decided to cook for me.

You shrugged, telling me that it just seemed like a good idea at the time, that you wanted to do something nice for your boyfriend.
My heart swelled when those words came out of your mouth, and I stole another kiss from you before you got up to serve dessert, which was saucy chocolate pudding, served with whipped cream and even a glace cherry on top.
Oh god, it was amazing.
I would’ve licked the bowl clean if you hadn’t taken it off me, telling me that I wasn’t a dog and I shouldn’t act like one.

After dessert, you took me into the TV room where you had set up large cushions on the floor and a thick blanket to snuggle up underneath.
On the TV, the menu for The Lion King was flashing and on the cabinet, were the DVD cases for Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, The Jungle Book and Peter Pan.
You were the only person who knew how much I loved Disney movies, especially The Lion King and my heart melted into a little puddle at the bottom of my stomach when I saw how much effort you had put into this evening, and it made me fall in love with you even more.

I pulled you roughly into a hug which had you squealing that I was breaking your ribs until I let you go and kissed you gently on your lips before sitting down on one of the massive cushions and motioned for you to join me.

I expected you to sit beside me, but no, you surprised me again, like you’d been doing the entire night.

You nudged my legs apart so that there was enough room for you to sit in between them and lay back quite comfortably into my chest, grabbing my arms and pulling them around you.
I nuzzled my face into the crook of your neck and you squirmed before grabbing the remote and pressing play.

We spent the rest of the evening in that position except from when you got up to switch DVDs or when you turned around to peck me randomly before turning around and getting into the movie once more.

It was a good thing that your parents were away for the whole weekend, because we fell asleep in that position on the floor.
Our backs were stiff in the morning, but, without a doubt, that evening is definitely in my top ten favourite evenings of my life.