They reached Dorsey’s loft, loaded down with groceries. Park seemed to remember every embarrassing story he had about Dorsey and relayed them all to Liza on the way over. Liza laughed that full-belly way he was coming to know as her genuine laugh. She threw her head back, giving Dorsey a view of her slender neck. He would bury his face in the crook of that neck by the end of the night, he vowed.

Liza danced to Korean hip-hop as she stirred the onion. Joseph threw finely diced ginger and garlic into the sauté pan. She was aware of Dorsey watching her dance. She was aware of Dorsey, period.

“How do I know when it’s done?”

“You’ll smell it,” Joseph said. “Dorsey, how is the rice coming along?”

“You put me in charge of the most boring activity.”

Liza had never seen Dorsey so relaxed and natural. She shook her head. She had been half on fire all night because of him. He stripped her of all her finely held ideas, all her notions, grinding everything down to one crystallizing fact: she wanted him. Maybe not forever. Maybe not even for a week. But right now, for tonight. It bothered her how primitive it all was. A rich, out-of-reach man, a tight butt, and an erection—it was some kind of basic recipe. And she hated to be lured by it. It would mean that she wasn’t who she said she was. Was she principled, or would she bend the rules when they suited her? Could happiness really be found in the arms of a man? Her body screamed, Yes. God, she was just like her mother but with a master’s degree.

In her pensiveness, she had stopped stirring, and Joseph furrowed his eyebrows at her in question. Liza snapped back and swirled the onions, garlic, and ginger vigorously—too vigorously, it seemed.

“Whoa. Your head’s in the clouds,” Dorsey said.

As if you didn’t put it there.

He was suddenly behind her. His hand covered hers, and he slowed her furious mix down to a steady swirl. “Easy,” his voice rumbled in her ear.

His other hand rested loosely on her hip. The heat of it warmed her insides and made her pulse. If she didn’t release this pressure, she would burst.

Liza blushed to her toes. Dear lord, how would she last the night?

When her eyes flicked down to Dorsey’s hands, he flitted them away and returned to the sticky rice sitting in cool bowls. He looked chastened. How could he still be unsure of where he stood with her? Liza wondered if she was aware of what she wanted herself. When the food was finished, Joseph seasoned the flavorful bowl with salt and pepper, then garnished it with green onion and lemon slices. She took pictures for her Instagram feed, carefully disabling the location as she bragged online about her bowl of rice.