Matteo let me rest against his shoulder without saying a word or asking any of the questions I expected him to ask. Like, if I were going to call Logan? Or if I needed space, or why I couldn't call him.
We just sat there, the only sound in the pantry being us reaching for more chips, pretzels, or cookies.
It felt just like it used to with Logan, so comfortable, so easy, and most of all so safe.
It made me forget about his big, bad brother upstairs, who clutched on tightly to the keys to my freedom.
"I could sleep here", I said, more to myself than to him, dusting my hands on my jeans, putting down the bag of chips.
"I could get us a pillow, if that's what you really want". His voice sounded like smooth jazz, so soft, soothing my frayed nerves.
"I don't think hiding out here is going to work".
He wasn't wrong, hiding here would probably lead to an unpleasant interaction with Damiano, which I knew I did not have it in me to face.
"Not to mention, we can't live on salty snacks and sugary gummy worms any longer", he pointed out.
"Speak for yourself", I protested, taking my head off his shoulder.
He turned over to me, a small smile playing on his lips.
"You already look sick of those chips", he pointed out.
"Ughhhhh, for a second I forgot who I was in here with.
The tea-making Dr Gusto", I teased.
He had a full grin now, looking down briefly and shaking his head.
"Most people enjoy having a doctor around, you know", he said, standing to his feet and offering me a hand.
"We'll see just how enjoyable your presence can be, Dr Gusto", I said as he pulled me up.
He was right, I felt sick.
I also wanted real food.
"You should order Chinese", I nudged him, grabbing a pack of pretzels before we both walked out, leaving the door open. Like we had made an unspoken rule to leave things out of place just to mess with Damiano.
"What about Mexican?" he said as we walked.
"I don't think I trust you enough to order us Mexican, tea man", I said, and he halted, his face looking stung.
"I'll have you know I've spent some time in Mexico, I know the best things to order", he said with his hand on his chest.
I laughed, genuinely laughed.
"You willingly drink tea", I said between laughs.
"What's wrong with tea?
Yeah, is good for you", he said matter-of-factly.
"Exactly.
I just want food, not healthy alternatives", I said, walking off, hearing him trail behind me.
"Hey, it's always good to be healthy", he called out from behind me.
As I walked down the familiar hallway, I caught a whiff of something delicious.
A few somethings.
I stopped in my tracks, waiting for Matteo to reach me.
"You smell that, right?".
Matteo scoffed, shaking his head as if at an inside joke.
"Come on", he said.
Leading the way.
We got to the kitchen, and just as I thought, the counter was covered in food. Home-cooked food, and then I realized who was behind it.
Damiano was pouring some sauce thing from a pan into what looked like a well-cooked salmon.
My mouth watered, and the food smelled delicious.
I didn't realize I was standing in a place till I saw Matteo on a seat, reaching for something on a plate. Damiano slapped his hand like a mother would.
"Don't be a fucking pig, you're supposed to be doctor", Damiano snarled.
I would have laughed if I weren't still shocked.
The sight of Damiano, working about in the kitchen, putting finishing touches on the meal I would assume he just made.
Matteo grabbed something successfully, just when Damiano's back was turned to him, grabbing plates from the cupboard.
"You both can help set the table", Damiano said, his face unamused as usual, already walking out of the kitchen, heading for the dining room with plates and cutlery in hand.
I walked over to Matteo, who was standing up and grabbing what looked like...…Creamy Tuscan chicken?
"He cooks?" I said, following him and grabbing the spinach.
Matteo shrugged, and I followed quietly behind him.
He took a seat after placing the chicken on the table.
Damiano gestured for me to sit, pulling out a chair for me. I rolled my eyes and sat beside Matteo instead.
Damiano took another trip to the kitchen, probably grabbing the pasta.
"Should I be scared of some sedative in the food?" I whispered to Matteo, who was already picking some spinach.
"Damiano wouldn't ruin a good dish with sedatives, trust me.
Plus, if they're sedatives, we would all get sedated", he said, taking way too much spinach then heading for a generous amount of chicken and sauce. And to think Matteo was cool and collected, but watching him lick his index finger, then dig right in.
"Don't sleep with the pasta stronzo!", Matteo said between chews.
I saw a pissy Damiano coming in with the pasta and a jug of water, and also managing to hold some empty glasses.
"You're a pig", Damiano said as he dropped the things in his hands, placing them on the table perfectly. Even moving the dishes we had already placed, like he was setting everything for a photo or something.
I grabbed my plate, feeling too hungry to ignore just how delicious everything looked. Just when I was about to grab some pasta, a serving spoon in my hand, I felt the chair underneath me move, being pulled to Damiano's side of the table, very close to where he sat.
He smelled like his usual self now, no smoke, just his strong cologne and his shampoo.
He reached over, grabbing my plate before I could protest, his breath fanned my face briefly. Causing me to sit even steeper, like I was scared any movement would make him closer and I'd revisit what happened upstairs.
It was already too late; the events from upstairs replayed in my head. Making me more nervous, while Damiano seemed fine.
Dishing me the food, then placing it right in front of me, then dishing for himself.
"The chicken sauce is too thick", I heard Matteo say, causing me to snap out of my thoughts. Looking at him while he chewed mindlessly, obviously enjoying the too-thick sauce.
"What are you still doing here?" Damiano asked, putting some food on his plate. Damiano looked like the older sibling, irritated by his brother's poor manners.
I smiled to myself, grabbing a fork to dig in.
The food looked amazing, and I hadn't noticed but Damiano had mixed the pasta and the sauce and the perfect amount of steamed broccoli, even cutting the chicken.
Right now, he was being nice, too nice.
I took a forkful, making sure to get everything in one bite: the tomatoes from the sauce, a piece of chicken, broccoli, and pasta.
The moment it got into my mouth, I let out a moan. Chewing with my eyes closed, savouring just how delicious and comforting this was, I could taste everything; from the garlic buttered broccoli, the tender chicken soaked in delicious, not thick at all, Tuscan sauce, and the pasta that just soaked in every flavour, its texture just easy and moist. It was delicious, perfect enough to be from a 5-star restaurant, yet it felt homely, all the flavours just blended perfectly, and like the dish hit every craving I didn't know I had. It made me think back at home cooked meals, not like I had many home cooked meals from my house but it reminded me of Angela's mother's cooking, it took me back to Saturday evening with Angela and her siblings, all of us trying to take a small bite of whatever she had cooking before setting the table. She always caught us just in time. For a second, as I savoured Damiano's cooking, everything else fell away, which made me feel guilty.
I opened my eyes and went for another bite, craving more and more of the warmth the food brought after each bite.
"See, I told you he wouldn't ruin his dish with sedative", Matteo said, making me look up from my plate. He was reaching for more pasta.
It was then I felt eyes on me and turned to my side to look at Damiano, who was watching me intently, as if studying everything about me, from my chewing to how I poked the chicken pieces with my fork.
I felt my stomach churn as I tried to look away, annoyed by how plain his expression looked as he looked at me.
"You know, if you looked away, she won't vanish", Matteo pointed out, referring to Matteo, who then shot him a glare, looked over to his plate, which I noticed had broccoli and chicken, no pasta.
Maybe the sedatives were in the pasta.