Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
There’s no stopping confusion from carving itself on my face. “E…what now?”
“Elotes,” repeats Arden, snark clear as the Christmas Eve afternoon sky. “You’ve never had elotes?”
“I can’t even say the bloody word.”
“Oooo…your fake Britishness prevents your mouth from curving that way, aye?”
“You’re chirping an awful lot for someone I drove five hours to enjoy wings.”
“You definitely win for DoorDash driver of the season,” she teases while reaching up for the stick treat. “Why don’t we share mine like a taste test, and if you like it,” her figure twists towards mine, “then Ál can give you your own.”
“Sí.”
“Alright.” Bear and I both watch her rotate the sticked object in her possession; however, it’s me that inquires, “And what exactly is that unkempt creation dirtying your mitts?” One thick, white glob casually lands on Bear’s eager tongue. “And now your security guard?”
“Mexican street corn,” launches loose prior to a good-sized bite being taken. “Typically, it’s mayonnaise or crema,” she continues to explain around her smacking, “but this tastes like it has both-”
“It does,” calls out Ál from somewhere inside his truck.
“Butter…”
“That too,” he confirms once more.
“Great hint of lime,” my girlfriend precedes to explain around another chomp that results in Bear craning his neck at an angle to catch the falling kernels. “There’s cotija cheese, Tajín habanero, and,” Arden swipes away the red sauce lingering on her lips, “what tastes like some sort of hot sauce drizzle.”
“Secret hot sauce,” informs our food truck chef.
“Adds just enough extra kick,” she breathes out, mouth a gape to welcome in air to counter the burn. “This is definitely top cheddar shit.”
I quirk a curious eyebrow. “Would you say it is the best?”
Arden looks upward.
Contemplatively hums.
Purses her lips to one side.
The other.
Contemplative hums again and meets my stare. “I think so.”
“So…then…my real gift would be taking you out for the best wings and elotes you’ve ever had?”
Rather than give me the victory I clearly seek, she cringes, “Why does it sound like you’re saying ‘and loadies’?”
“Why is it so difficult for you to put my points on the board?” The jab is followed by a cocky lean forward to indulge in my first bite. To no surprise, the woman I’ve fallen in love with – or more accurately been in love with since the start of the season – rolls the treat around, successfully sending crema up my nose. “Damn it, Ducky!”
Loud, juvenile laughter leaves her alongside a feigned, “Oops.”
“You lose your stick privileges,” I good naturedly grumble while grabbing a napkin from the holder on the counter to remove the burning concoction. “Hand it over.”
She triumphantly giggles and gingerly surrenders it.
This time, she curiously watches me indulge in the treat, hope that I love it as much as she does so palpable I’m prepared to lie even if I don’t.
An odd combination of flavors suits up and skates across my tongue straight for the empty net, fully aware of my open mindedness when it comes to food.
Creativity is always major league.
Flavor is typically minor that gets called up on the occasion.
“This is strange.” Slow chewing continues during my external debate. “Faintest bit of sweet and tang, yet all the spice to make shitting super uncomfortable for at least a sesh.”
More cackles come from her in tandem with additional scrap licking from Bear.
“So odd…” I indulge in another sampling, “so fascinating…” my eyes latch onto hers, “such a bloody beauty,” offering her a turn to taste is attached to me whispering, “like you.”
Redness rips through her complexion, but she doesn’t verbally brush off the compliment.
Which means she’s doing her best to accept it.
Accept that I believe it.
That I only say shit like that when I mean it.
Finishing up both elotes with Bear’s minor help is succeeded by deep diving into the Mexi-Texi chili-lime wings at a nearby small metal table.
Ál happily joins us, explains how he fell into food rather than coffee, and even shares a couple of the wedding cookies he snuck out of his wife’s supervision earlier in the day. Learning more about Arden’s family – outside her twin – feels like it’s my gift from her. Opening up – even now that we’re on the same page about dating – still requires some practice and coaching and trust exercises.
Like I said earlier.
She’s worth all the work I put in.
Every. Time.
Despite only having a couple hours to hang out in the small town before our long drive back to the airport – I’m leaving my car at her place while I’m visiting my parents – we undeniably make the most of it.
Sounds of Flogging Molly flow from the speakers at first; however, when she curls in closer to me, resting her head on Bear who has his head resting against my side, I switch to something more mellow.
Easier to sleep through.
Arden plants one palm lovingly on my thigh and lets her eyes drift shut as the sun begins to set.