𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 - 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚔

i love you... too.

I throw my cell phone on the couch and walk into the kitchen. I left my shoes near the door and Rami did the same without asking questions. It's a craze. I open the doors of the white closet, looking for something interesting to cook. Some packages of oats, jellies and toast. In the corner, a pack of closed spaghetti catches my attention. I know it's a very simple thing to do and a little dull, but what I can do, I'm not a good chef.

"Dom, we can ask for something" Rami says, leaning on the counter.

"I know how to cook" I say, and I see that I am defensive.

"I don't doubt it" something in his voice has a silly and playful tone.

"I KNOW HOW TO COOK" I say and Rami can't help but laugh, with his hand resting on his belly. Now that I realize that I screamed in a somewhat whining voice.

"What do you think about cooking?" he asks, leaning his head on his hands.

"Noodles with bologna and cream cheese" I say, opening the red packet of spaghetti. "Do you like it?

"I love it" he says.

He loves it. Since that call, my head has been restless, not only because he told me he loves me, but because I didn't get a chance to say it back. But as far as I can tell, he didn't even notice that he said that he loves me, which makes me nervous and indecisive about saying it back. I wanted to ask him if he really meant it, or was it just the heat of the moment, with me across the ocean, maybe in danger.

I turn to the stove and start to warm the water in the pot. I put the necessary condiments in the water and watch it start to bubble. The smell of garlic starts to get stronger and I put the spaghetti in it, rolling it up before releasing it in the water - so that it cooks evenly, one of my mother's tips. My head is still restless and seeing Rami calm, on his cell phone, only makes me more nervous. Even if he doesn't feel it, I have to confess.

"Rami," I get his attention, and I see his fingers stop typing and his eyes turn to me, "I need to talk to you. My voice turns thick involuntarily, which causes his eyebrows to arch.

"What is it?', he asks with prying eyes.

"Well, when was the last time we talked on the phone?" I try to start.

"The day before yesterday, I think" he says, confused by the conversation.

"Our conversation never left my head" supports me on the other side of the counter, with my fingers intertwined in each other, in perfect harmony with each other.

"I said something wrong?" he asks after a few seconds trying to process the purpose of it all.

"No, no," I hurry to answer, so that about no doubt, "you didn't say anything wrong. But..." pause, trying to find the right words. I look at my feet.

"But...?" he asks, walking slowly around the big counter in the middle of the kitchen.

I take a deep breath, making myself ask. "You said... that you love me. We were silent. He stops walking and starts staring at his shoes. "Did you mean that?" I finally asked. My eyes turn to him, hopeful.

A small, simple smile imprints itself on his lips. He takes a few steps around the counter and comes to me. "I did," he replies, and his smile increases as he sees mine appear slowly.

"Well... you didn't give me a chance to answer," I comment, now with my eyes on the three buttons on his shirt.

His body approaches mine and his hand rubs the skin of my forearm. I bite my lips and feel that same restlessness. My eyes look deep into his eyes and I prepare the words on the tip of my tongue. "What do you have to say about that?" he asks.

"I love you" I say to him, but I remember: I am answering him, so I correct, "I love you too" I say with emphasis on too.

His breathing gets deeper as if waiting for my answer with the air trapped in his mouth. A smile begins to form again, this time bigger, wider. The yellow teeth and the small wrinkles on the side of my eyes make me giggle a bit.

"I loved hearing it from you," he said, holding my nape with his cold hand, bringing my face closer to his.

Our lips meet slowly and subtly, our skin warming each other. My hands lean on Rami's chest as our lips caress each other. His tongue is warm, his nose rubs against mine, and my arms loop around his neck. The kiss is slow but full of passion as if the words I love you make everything better. I support my weight on his body and we lean a little, which makes me smile.

His lips go from my mouth to the perfumed skin of my neck, depositing small kisses. His wet lips make me tremble and he whispers against my skin. "Let's go to your room" his voice is deep and full of desire.

"No Rami," I deny, not because I don't want to, but because I'm cooking.

"Cool, let's do it right here," he says, raising the bar on my blouse, but I impel him.

"Rami, I'm cooking" I protest, walking away from him and having a fine laugh.

He gives a smile, like he's been beaten. I walk back to the stove, where the pot comes to sizzle through the steam that rises and reaches the cold lid. I see the noodles falling apart when I remove the lid and I look for a wooden spoon.