Three hours later I opened my eyes to a dim, grey morning light in my bedroom. The storm still raged on. At least the monster headache that battered my brain earlier, had petered out.

My foot throbbed instead, reminding me that Ryan saw me naked last night, but not in one of the erotic scenarios I'd been fantasizing about since the first day he walked into school back in September.

So let's review. First I'd literally thrown myself at him, and been flat out rejected. Then, he'd had me nude and sprawled-out willingly on my bed, yet walked away.

Clearly he wasn't interested in me the way I was interested in him. Genius that I was though, I'd offered to let him stay on my couch, so I'd have to face him again if I got up now.

I brought my pillow over my face and muffled a scream of aggravation.

Wanting to avoid reality for at least a bit longer, I pulled the pillow from my face, fluffed it, and placed my head back upon it. I burrowed deeper into my down blankets. If I could fall back asleep, then maybe I'd wake up when the storm was done and Ryan was gone.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, the scent of something delicious wafted into my nostrils, and my stomach growled violently in objection of this plan. I held my breath and listened closely. Over the aggressive noises from my gut, and the tree branches lashing against the side of the building, it sounded like Ryan was cooking something in my kitchen.

"Is he making breakfast? Hopefully, he isn't making a mess."

I sighed, grabbed my glasses, and tossed my covers aside. A quick glance in the vanity mirror made me realize what a wreck I was. Hair knotted and askew. Bloodshot eyes. Makeup only half removed, and mascara entirely smudged. Pillow creases imprinted across my cheeks.

"Whatever. He's not into me."

I tied a bandanna kerchief around my riotous curls. It made look kind of like my Dad's old pictures of my Nonna. Then I grabbed my ratty, grey bathrobe off its hook, and limped out to investigate the ruckus.

As I turned the corner into my kitchen, Ryan stood in front of my stove with my apron on, blowing on a wooden spoon held aloft in his hand. His beautiful lips puckered so perfectly.

How on Earth did he spend the night sleeping on my tiny couch, and yet still managed to look flawless, while I looked like demented dust-bunny in my frayed, old robe?

It was so aggravating, that I growled out loud.

He turned at the sound. "Oh hey! Was I too noisy in here? I'm sorry if I woke you."

"It wasn't really the noise that woke me up. It was more the scent."

"I tried not to stink your place place up. Since you didn't have any fish sauce, I used some anchovy paste I found instead. It's not as powerful, so I didn't think it would knock you out of bed or anything."

Ryan's smile showed off his dimpled cheek, which was flushed from the steam rising off the pot. Of course that suited him too. Even though he looked like the most delicious thing in my kitchen right now, my stomach grumbled this time. It definitely wanted to taste whatever he was cooking.

"No. I meant that it smells wonderful."

He raised his eyebrows, stepped towards me, and poised the spoon directly in front of my lips. "Hopefully it tastes good too."

If he liked me, this could have been a very sultry moment, but it was merely a friendly taste. Plus, my outfit and my disposition didn't lend themselves toward any grand designs on changing his opinion.

Still, I couldn't dare meet his eyes while I sampled his work. So I looked at the creamy concoction offered instead. It didn't appear to be oatmeal or cream of wheat. Lips pressed to the spoon, my tongue darted out. I pulled back with a mouthful as I spoke.

"Wow Ryan! That's excellent. What is it?"

His smile grew so wide that I saw a tinier dimple pop out on the second side.

"Lugaw. My Mom used to make it for me when I was a kid. Especially when I wasn't feeling well. It's a rice porridge, and it was always my go-to comfort food."

Ryan pulled out one of my kitchen chairs and gestured for me to sit. Utensils and napkins were already waiting on my placements. He'd certainly found everything he needed in my kitchen.

I wondered, "Does this mean he's comfortable here? Or did he wake up early and do this because he's anxious around me?"

Turning back to the stove, Ryan began spooning some lugaw into two bowls that were already on the counter. He dropped what looked like hard boiled eggs on top and sprinkled some sliced green onions over it all. "I find that it's an excellent hangover remedy."

Once the bowls were placed on the table, I immediately pierced the egg with my spoon. It was the perfect consistency. The core was cooked but silky. The innermost portion of the yolk oozed gently out. I scooped a giant spoonful and started to blow on it, while Ryan continued to talk.

"Last year I finally asked my mom's best friend to teach me how to make it for myself. Although I still think it tastes better when someone else makes it for you."

"I suppose I can't disagree there. But I do commend your genius. Learning this recipe was an excellent idea." Finally, it seemed cool enough to venture a generous bite. I loaded it into my mouth.

Ryan said, "Oh I don't know how excellent it was. Because now my Tita has decided I need a nice Filipino girl to take care of me, and has officially designated herself as my matchmaker."

It was still too hot. My eyes teared up. I covered my mouth, opening it behind my hands to vent off the heat, and fogging my glasses slightly.

Ryan chuckled. "Slow down, or you're gonna hurt yourself again."

Unable to speak, I raised my eyebrows and stamped my good foot at him.

He tilted his chair back on two legs and laughed a little harder. "Okay! I'm willing to admit that I was mostly to blame for last night's injury."

I finally managed to cool it down, and swallowed. "That's very big of you."

"I just meant that you don't have to rush. The lugaw isn't going anywhere. Some things are better when you take them slow." Ryan got up, filled a glass with water and set it in front of me.

I sipped at it, wondering if we were still talking about rice porridge. "So a matchmaker. That sounds about as awful as the dating app Laura forced me into joining."

His spoon paused in front of his mouth. "Well, it's not really a formal arrangement. Plus, it doesn't cost me anything."

I pointed my spoon at him. "Touché. But at least I answered questions about things that matter to me. It's not like some old Italian lady picking some guy for me based on my preference of frying my meatballs before I drop them into the sauce or something."

Ryan shoveled some food into his face and squinted his eyes at me, but remained silent.

So I placed some more lugaw into my own mouth. It was heavenly. Warm, and luxuriant. Smoother than the lumpy, stickier risottos I knew from my childhood.

I readied my spoon for another bite. "So how's the matchmaking thing working out for you?"

"Well I'm here aren't I?" He smirked.

My eyes bugged out. "Ouch! Really? That's how we're gonna play this then..."

Ryan started to chuckle, and before I could stop myself, I took my spoon of lugaw and catapulted it toward his face. It landed with a satisfactory splat and slid down in generous globs onto his shirt, missing my apron entirely. He licked some off the corner of his mouth.

His light brown eyes twinkled as he took a large dollop onto two of his fingers. "You know what? I don't think you've had enough yet."

"You wouldn't!" I gasped.

"Oh I would." His grin was devilish.

I bolted upright from my chair and exploded into nervous giggles.

"What if I said, I'm sorry?" I started backing out of the kitchen doorway.

He stalked forward in pursuit. "You already look like such I mess, that I'm not even going to feel bad about this."

A slightly more hysterical burst of laughter emerged from me, as I wondered how I should handle this experience. It felt extremely flirtatious, like a scene in a rom-com. If this was a movie, he'd catch me and put his food covered fingers into my mouth, and then we'd make lugaw covered love on the floor. But my life isn't a Romance and his last comment acknowledged that he didn't really find me very sexy right then.

Plus, I hadn't even brushed my teeth yet.

Finally, I made up my mind. I stopped moving backward, with a pout on my face. "Do your worst Ryan Pierce..."

Ryan continued forward until he was directly in front of me. Then he froze too. We stood there, toe to toe, staring at each other silently for what felt like an eternity.

When Ryan finally spoke, his voice was as soft as his light brown eyes. "I don't want to do my worst on you Vivian."

Then he reached up and placed a tiny bit of lugaw onto the tip of my nose. "You deserve better than that."

I held my breath, stunned by his words, and frankly, a bit afraid to have him smell how bad it probably was.

Ryan took my hand. "Let's eat before it gets cold."

He guided me back into the kitchen. We sat across the table from each other again, and spent a minute wiping our faces off with our napkins.

Then I reached over to blot at his shirt. "I'm sorry about this. I can wash it for you."

"It's fine. I'll wash it when I get home." Ryan looked down at my hand with a smile.

I guess I should have stopped rubbing, but I didn't want to. Though a buzzing on the counter interrupted and forced my hand to stop. Ryan stood up to get his phone.

While he read his text, I scarfed down half of my bowl of lugaw.

He typed a quick reply, then ran a hand through his hair. "Well it seems that I won't be washing my shirt when I get home."

I managed to ask, "Everything okay?" between spoonfuls.

He plopped into his chair. "That was my buddy. The blizzard knocked the power out on our street. He has no clue when the utility company is gonna be able to get around to fixing it. It might be as long as a whole day."

"Oh? Well, I guess they can't expect the workmen to go out in this. Nobody should be out in this."

"Yeah, I get that. But I can't impose on you anymore." He shook his head and started to stand up again.

I grabbed the front of my apron and pulled him back into the chair. "Don't be daft!"

"Daft?" He snorted.

"Remember, I am a Literature teacher. I happen to have a fairly profound vocabulary when I'm sober."

He nodded and zipped his lip.

I sighed. "Anyway. What I'm trying to say, is that you're ridiculous if you think I'm going to let you leave during this blizzard! You should stay until here it breaks. And my offer to wash your shirt still stands. In fact, I can just throw all your things in with my laundry."

"And what will I wear while you're washing my clothes?" He crossed his arms and cocked his head at me.

I held my arms out. "I bet you could squeeze into my robe."

He looked me up and down. "Wear that thing?"

In one swift movement he leaned forward, gripped the fabric of the collar between his fingers, and made my heartbeat increase.

"It looks like it needs a wash worse than my shirt does!"

I swatted Ryan's hand away. "Hey!"

He started laughing. "Actually, now that I think of it, you shouldn't wash it because it would probably fall apart in the spin cycle."

"Now that I think about it, maybe you'd better put your boots on and start walking." I crossed my arms and glared at him.

Ryan threw his head back and guffawed now. The sound was infectious. I couldn't help but smile and laugh too, as I said, "At the very least, we can suffer through you wearing a towel for an hour and a half."

"Wait a minute! I don't even get to wear a blanket like you did last night?"

My ears and cheeks burned. "Please don't remind me of last night."

"Why not? It's my favorite memory of you."

"Yeah sure. Which part? The vomiting part or the holding my bloodied foot part?"

"Call me a freak, but I liked it all." He bit his cheek, trying to keep a straight face and failing.

"Very funny." I rolled my eyes and stood up. "I'm going to take a shower, while you finish cleaning up in here. Then you can shower next, while I go down to the basement and start the wash."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I stink?"

"I'm saying you have lugaw in your hair." I reached over and picked a bit of gelatinous rice from the strands, before wiping it down the front of my apron in one long, slow motion. "I'll just be a few minutes. And then it will be your turn."

Ryan licked his lips and nodded. "Okay."

I turned on my heel and left the kitchen as quickly as I could, determined to delete that damn app from my phone and enjoy the next twenty-four hours.