"How do you feel about tortilla soup?" I asked, flipping through one of my recipe books.
"I've never had that before."
"Perfect! Then it's decided!" I said, propping up the book. "Okay, so it looks like we need vegetable oil, an onion, some garlic, two jalapeños, chicken broth, a can of diced tomatoes, a can of black beans, some chicken breasts, two limes, and cilantro for the soup itself…" I began walking around the kitchen gathering the ingredients. "Spencer, can you grab a large saucepan? It should be under the stove… Thank you."
"So, what do we do first?
"Okay, so we need to dice the onions and the jalapeños, mince the garlic, chop the cilantro, and juice the limes… that way everything is prepped and we don't have to worry about doing that when it's cooking."
"I can do the cilantro and the limes?"
"Perfect, and I can do the rest," I said, pulling out knives and cutting boards. "You can grab a bowl and juicer from those cabinets." I gestured to one of the cabinets above the sink.
We worked in silence, diligently dicing and juicing.
"Okay, so now we want to heat the oil in that saucepan…and then we add the onions and cook for about two minutes," I said, pouring the oil into the pan. Spencer then scraped the onions into the pan. "Keep stirring those! You don't want them to burn…we just want them soft and semi-translucent."
"Bossy much?"
"My kitchen, my rules," I said, leaning against the counter as I let out a small laugh.
"Are these up to par?" Spencer asked, in what I think was a sarcastic tone, holding up the pan. Peering in, I nodded.
"Now we add the garlic and jalapeños, cooking for just a minute…" I said, scraping them into the pan. "I'll measure the chicken broth because then we add that…"
"Do you make this often?"
"Not too much…my mom used to make it when I was a kid," I said, dumping the broth into the pan. "Watch out, don't want to get broth all over you… Can you dump the tomatoes and beans in?"
"Yeah, behind you…" Spencer said, pouring the two cans into the pan and mixing well.
"Okay, so now we want to let that get to a boil before we put the chicken in…"
"Do you cook for yourself often?" Spencer asked as I began picking up discarded dishes to wash.
"I try to. When I was in college, I used to eat out way too much, spent way too much money… figured I should be more fiscally responsible," I said. "Also, way healthier to eat at home, but I do occasionally splurge or give into a fast food craving… Do you cook?"
"I do, but I have a tendency to burn the food," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You should just think of it as chemistry. In fact, I think there are multiple essays on cooking in relation to chemistry… maybe you could read them for fun," I said, chuckling at my own joke, before realizing he probably had already read them.
"What's your favorite thing to make?"
"That's a hard one… probably limoncello cake…I learned how to make it with my mom one summer."
"You must have been close with your mom."
"Yeah, I was…she was my best friend," I said, feeling my eyes begin to water.
No.
I was not going to cry.
"What happened?" Spencer asked, his tone showing that he noticed something was wrong.
"She and my dad died," I said, standing straight. "They were in a car accident when I was nineteen. It was my first semester in college." Even when I spoke with the upmost sincerity, that sentence always left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I said, giving him a small smile. "Wasn't your fault and it was years ago… Oh! Turn down the heat on that!" I had noticed the boiling soup.
"Okay, so now what?" Spencer asked.
"Now we put the chicken breast in and let it cook for about 25 minutes," I said grabbing the chicken from the fridge. "Can you put it in while I set the timer?"
"Yeah, I got it."
I had turned my back for a few seconds to set a timer when a sharp, and sudden, proclamation of 'Ow!' caused me to turn around. I saw Spencer cradling his hand, no chicken to be seen.
"You threw it in there all at once, didn't you?" I asked, rushing to the freezer to get a bag of frozen peas. Before he could respond, I continued, "You know, for a genius, you are a little bit of an idiot. It's boiling hot!"
"I-" he began, but I cut him off by shoving the peas at him.
"Put those where the water got you…Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," he said.
"Just be careful," I said. "I don't need Hotch to scold me for injuring one of his team members."
"He wouldn't scold you," Spencer said.
"Yeah, I wouldn't be so sure about that. He takes his job very seriously, doesn't he?" I asked.
"You could say that."
"I did say that," I sassed him. "So back to our previous conversation before someone played the fool in the kitchen…What's the one thing you can make reliably, without burning?"
"A sandwich?" he said, his eyes revealing he was joking.
"C'mon, there's got to be something other than that," I said, teasingly.
"I can make a pretty simple pad thai that's…edible," he said. "But most of the time, I usually eat on the go or order in… it's more convenient with my job."
"That's fair… But, hey, next time you take lead with this pad thai recipe," I said, pointing my finger at him.
"Deal."
"How's the hand doing?" I asked.
"It's fine."
"Let me see it," I said, putting my hand out expectantly.
"Really, it's fine."
"Spencer, you got boiling liquid on your hand. Even if it was just for a second, it can still be bad, so let me see it," I demanded. He let out a sigh, as he removed the bag of frozen peas from his hand and let me inspect it.
I grabbed his hand, and turned it over, inspecting it. He had some redness and slight swelling.
"You should be fine… does it hurt? I have some painkillers somewhere…"
"No. I'm fine," he said, suddenly removing his hand from mine.
"Oh, okay…just let me know if you want me to get it," I said.
"Thanks."
"How often do you guys go on cases?"
"Enough to keep us busy, sometimes we go on cases back-to-back."
"Not a lot of time for relaxing at home, huh?"
"Not really," he said, shrugging. "But I like being busy." Just then, the alarm went off.
"Oh! So, now," I said, checking the recipe to ensure I did the right thing, "we take the chicken out and shred it. While I do that, can you add the juice and cilantro to the pot?"
"Got it."
We worked in silence as I shredded the chicken and Spencer stirred in the juice and cilantro.
"Okay, so now can you grab the tortilla chips from the pantry and the shredded white cheese in the fridge? If you want, I also have some avocado," I said, continuing to shred the chicken, before putting it back into the soup. "And now, our soup is done!"
"Smells great," Spencer said.
"I know. Let me just grab some bowls really quickly," I said, standing on my tiptoes to grab the bowls.
"I could get those for you," Spencer said, grabbing them from above me.
"Ah, curse you and your tall genes," I said. "Thank you."
"No problem."
I then served Spencer and I some soup, making sure to garnish it with chips and cheese and grabbing some spoons as we made our way to the couch.
"Be careful, it's hot," I said, giving Spencer a look.
"I know, I know," he said. "I am a grown adult."
"Yeah," I laughed, "sure Mr. I-burned-my-hand-because-I-threw-chicken-into-hot-soup." Spencer rolled his eyes as he took a spoonful of soup.
"This is pretty good," he said.
"Good," I said, "then you can take some home and reheat it."
"I can't."
"Yeah, you can. I'm not going be able to eat all of that. Heat it up and it's a good dinner," I said.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
We ate in silence, with Spencer occasionally listing off a random fact. Before I knew it, Spencer and I had both finished.
"Well, it's almost 3 o'clock," Spencer said. "I should probably get going."
"I need to go get my weekly groceries," I said, "but let me get you some soup for home." I got up and made my way to the kitchen. Grabbing a Tubberware, I spooned about half of the leftover soup in, making sure to close it tightly. "Do you need chips and cheese?"
"I have some in my apartment, but thank you," Spencer said.
"You have your DVDs?"
"Yep."
"Alrighty, well here is your soup," I said, handing to him. "Oh, careful!" I laughed and gave him a playful shove, "Just kidding."
"Thanks again for this," Spencer said. "It was fun."
"Sorry our original plans didn't quite pan out," I said.
"Life happens," he said. "Believe me, with my job, plans change constantly."
"I figured," I said.
"But seriously," Spencer said, making eye contact with me, "I had a really nice time. We should do this again sometime?"
"Well, duh," I said. "You are going teach me that pad thai recipe, right?"
"Of course," he said, smiling as he walked towards the door. He had just begun to turn the doorknob, when he turned to face me again. "Sarah?"
"Yeah? Did you forget a movie?" I said, turning to glance at the table. His movies were not there.
"I was wondering… if I were to ask you to dinner sometime…would you be interested?"
I froze.
Was he asking that if he asked me out, would I say yes?
Or was he asking if I wanted to get dinner as friends?
I was confused.
"Oh, um…" I said, my brain racing for an answer, "Yeah… I think, yeah…"
"Okay," he said, smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Okay."
"Well, have a nice evening," he said, opening the door and leaving.
"You too…" I murmured, closing the door behind him.
I stood there frozen for a moment before rushing to my phone and dialing the only number I could think of.
C'mon… pick up, pick up.
I heard the click of the phone being picked up.
"Caroline? We need to talk. Now. How fast can you be at my place?"