Nas grins before taking my hand again. “Come with me,” he says, before leading me into the kitchen where I see his work being conducted. Two thick steaks sizzle in a skillet on the stove next to a pot of green beans. From here, I can see the oven light is on with a platter of macaroni and cheese inside. Nas lifts me onto the counter in the same place I was sitting when all the fun started last night, and I watch as he spins around to finish cooking. He sets each steak on a plate, followed by the green beans directly next to them, before pulling out the delicious-looking macaroni and cheese and plating it next to the green beans. It’s certainly not your everyday breakfast, but it looks and smells amazing. Once everything is in order, Nas helps me off the counter and hands me a plate.

“Bon appétit,” he says playfully.

“Thanks so much. It smells incredible,” I reply before leading him into the dining room, where we sit side by side and start to eat. The steak is cooked to perfection, and the macaroni and cheese must be some sort of secret family recipe, because this is not something made from a box. It turns out writing isn't the only thing Nas is great at.

“So,” I begin as I swallow steak so seasoned it doesn’t need A1 or any other sauce to enhance it. “I wanted to ask you something last night. It’s kind of personal.”

“Okay,” Nas replies, unfazed.

“I was sort of curious about the way we had sex last night,” I say, pushing past my nerves. “Don't get me wrong—last night was probably the best sex I’ve ever had, but it wasn’t what I expected.”

Nas centers green beans on his fork and prepares to shovel them into his mouth before asking. “What’d you expect?”

I’m a little hesitant to answer because I’m not sure how to say this without it sounding offensive, but I go for it anyway. “I guess I was expecting … more. I really hope you don't take that the wrong way. Fuck, I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“There’s no need to explain. I know what you mean. You thought it’d be more like one of the scenes you’ve read.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I don't actually guess so. He’s exactly right. “I guess I was just wondering why you don't do the stuff you write about. You said we’d barely scratched the surface. I was just wondering why you didn’t want to do more. Is it me?”

Nas shoves a forkful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth and chews with his mouth closed.

“Yes,” he says with no emotion, stunning me.

“Oh,” I reply, followed by shocked confusion. “Umm, why?”