~Ava
The kitchen lights were harsh at first, so I flicked on only the under cabinet ones, a warm gold glow, perfect for midnight cooking.
I didn’t bother with clothes. I just threw on the oversized black hoodie Enzo had worn earlier, it hung to mid.thigh and smelled like him and tied my damp hair into a messy knot on top of my head.
I cranked the speaker dock to life, some filthy, bass heavy playlist I’d made months ago when I wanted to feel dangerous. The beat filled the house, rattling the windows.
Pancetta hit the pan, sizzled and salt and smoke curled up. Garlic, cracked pepper, parmesan snowing into the bowl. I was dancing barefoot while the pasta boiled, hips swaying, spatula as a microphone, singing off key and loud.
The pancetta was just starting to crisp, spitting fat in the
