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Sullivan was prepared to let the She-Pack handle the cooking.

Just because she owned a restaurant didn’t mean she should rob people of the pleasure of cooking beans in the cans they came in.

But as soon as they returned to the campsite, one of Opal’s friends hurried over, pointing to a picnic table loaded with ingredients.

“You don’t have to take your work on vacation, but if you’d like to give us a hand…”

This time, it wasn’t a competition at opposite ends of the bar. Kia and Sullivan surveyed the supplies and planned the menu. Apple-stuffed vegan sausages. Marshmallow-glazed beef burgers. Flame-grilled summer squash and green beans.

Kia seemed to have every spice imaginable in the RV.

When Sullivan commented that her seared iceberg salad needed a hint of za’atar, Kia rolled her eyes.

“Did you forget your za’atar, Chef? I can help you.

Do you want a Middle Eastern blend or a North African blend?

But I’m only sharing if you put some crushed Corn Nuts on your salad. They’re America’s crouton.”

“Isn’t the crouton America’s crouton?” Sullivan joked.

“Oh, Chef, have you forgotten everything we learned about the cro?ton?”

With that she skipped off, blowing a kiss to Sullivan, and returning a moment later with two spice jars.

“Hello, my friends,” Sullivan said, taking the jars from Kia. “You don’t want to season Corn Nuts, do you?”

“I love the way you talk to your food.” Kia made a heart with her hands and held it over her chest. “You can always talk to my za’atar blends.”

They cooked for an hour, maybe more. Sullivan lost herself in the satisfaction of snapping green beans and the smell of charcoal grills heating up.

Everyone agreed it was the best campsite food ever, with the campers getting up for seconds and thirds until the improvised buffet tables were almost empty.

“That’s what I like.” Sullivan kissed her fingertips and let out a smack. “No waste.”

“But everyone got enough,” Kia added.

“Perfect.” Sullivan put her arm around Kia.

Kia snuggled closer, and Sullivan felt full of anticipation for what the night would bring but also completely at peace. She could sit here forever watching the sparks dance and then go out.

“There’s stuff for s’mores, but someone else has to get it ready,” Sullivan said.

Opal and three other people jumped up with a chorus of “you’ve done enough” and “can I get you another drink?” Someone brought Kia and Sullivan two marshmallow skewers and plates of chocolate and graham crackers.

Kia and Sullivan teased each other for the entertainment of the crowd, riffing on Sullivan’s plan to char the Hershey’s chocolate bars to make a mole drizzle and Sullivan groaning in horror as Kia melted Cheetos into s’mores.

The children decided Cheetos s’mores was the best food ever eaten by human beings.

“To our chefs.” Opal raised a beer. “To one of the sweetest couples I know.”

The team and their families echoed her toast.

From across the campfire, Opal caught Sullivan’s eyes.

Because they’d been friends since they were making mud pies, Opal conveyed and Sullivan understood everything without words.

Love and warning. Worry and hope. A dash of this would be so much simpler if you’d just gone out with my cousin from Savannah .

Kia didn’t ask Opal to repeat her toast so she could get it on camera. Kia just wrapped her arm around Sullivan’s and snuggled closer.

“I adore you, baby, but you’re still wrong about the Cheetos,” Kia said.

Slowly, the fire died down. Children fell asleep in their parents’ laps.

Couples disappeared into their tents. Eventually, Kia and Sullivan were the only ones left by the embers.

Sullivan hadn’t invited Kia back to her bedroom after they’d slept together the day of the green roof.

She would have liked to. She would have liked to invite Kia into her bed every night, every afternoon she wasn’t working.

But Kia had been out late working at the NoPo Spring Street Festival and up even later working at her laptop, her eyes getting redder and her eyelids heavier as she typed reply after reply.

Once Sullivan had stood behind Kia, massaging Kia’s neck.

She’d read a few sentences over Kia’s shoulders.

Kia was writing a long reply to a teenager who had just come out to his friends.

Kia told him he was brave, and even if his friends weren’t supportive right now, they might come around.

And when they did, he got to choose whether to let them back into his life or not.

That’s really good , Sullivan had whispered.

Kia had leaned back against Sullivan. Only ten thousand more to answer.

Sullivan wanted to say, Just leave it, and come to bed , but that would be like Kia asking her to leave Mirepoix in the middle of service, so Sullivan just kissed the top of Kia’s hair, careful not to deflate Georgie. Kia probably hadn’t even felt it.

Now Kia said, “I guess we should…” at the same time Sullivan said, “Do you want…”

Sullivan wanted to bury her face in Kia’s pussy, but first she put out the fire using the four-step water-stir-water-cover method.

“You take care of the world,” Kia said quietly as they walked toward the RV.

She threaded her fingers through Sullivan’s and leaned close as they walked hand in hand.

Inside the RV, Kia turned on a soft light over the sofa. She looped her arms around Sullivan’s waist.

“I want to sleep with you again but no pressure. The sofa folds into a bed if you don’t want to,” Kia said shyly.

“How could I possibly not want to sleep with you? And also I don’t want to pressure you if you don’t—”

“I do.” Kia gave Sullivan a delightfully awkward kiss, their lips colliding as Kia pulled Sullivan closer.

“Good.”

They climbed a narrow staircase into the loft.

Kia had a small footprint, a whole life in this tiny camper.

The mattress filled the whole loft. A wall kept them from rolling off while giving them a view into the living area.

You couldn’t stand up, but Kia could rise up on her knees without her Afro brushing the ceiling.

Kia rolled back a panel to reveal a skylight and pushed up on it to let in a cool breeze.

Her RV was like a good kitchen, spacious enough to do anything you needed with no space wasted.

For all Kia’s glitter and tursnickens and adorable live stream mishaps, she was meticulous.

The space was colorful and comfortable. Strings of felt beads adorned the windows.

The bed was covered by a velvet quilt, obviously handmade by an artist.

Kia wrapped her arms around Sullivan and playfully pulled her to the bed like a gentle wrestler.

But when Sullivan tried to pull Kia to her, Kia sat up, lifting her shirt over her head to reveal an iridescent pink bra that hid as much of her breasts as a summer breeze.

Kia straddled Sullivan and caught Sullivan’s hands behind her head.

The way she looked at Sullivan made Sullivan smile, not just with her lips but with her body.

She loved to look at bodies. She loved to be looked at.

She loved to be touched. Her body glowed, not just with the promise of release, but with the feeling of being alive in the world, every muscle awake.

It was like standing in a mountain meadow, breathing in the perfectly clear air, feeling the sunshine.

“How am I going to get point six percent better if I don’t practice?” Kia said.

Kia explored Sullivan’s body with guileless simplicity. She kissed Sullivan’s lips, then moved to her ears, her neck, her shoulders. She cupped Sullivan’s breasts in her hands and sucked on her nipples until Sullivan thought she might come like that.

Sullivan had had more adventurous sex (anything twice with the right person) and sure, sometimes you wanted the tursnicken of sex: every toy and strap and dirty word.

But people said vanilla sex like vanilla was bad.

Vanilla focused your mind and body. Vanilla called you to appreciate this moment, this caress.

Some of the best food used only two or three ingredients in a dish.

Simplicity made you appreciate. Simplicity made the chef search for the perfect tomato, organic sage, the freshest butter, a single vanilla bean oily and dark.

If the dish was simple, you had to love it more.

Sullivan luxuriated in Kia’s touch. While her clit and vulva swelled in anticipation, her thoughts were unhurried.

She let her mind slip away until she was all body.

She felt Kia’s lips and hands on her, but she also felt the soft sheets, a corner of the velvet quilt, the pleasant memory of sun on her face. But mostly she felt Kia.

Kia kissed down her belly.

“May I?” Kia asked.

“Of course.” Sullivan might be mindfully enjoying every moment, but her clit was also throbbing for release.

“What do you want me to know about your body?” Kia asked, massaging Sullivan’s belly just above the curls of her hair.

“I come really fast, but after that… don’t stop.” It had been a long time since Sullivan had described what she wanted, and she felt unexpectedly shy. “The first time is just a warm up. If you keep going, that’s when it gets really good.”

“I’ll keep going.” Kia grinned. “As long as you like.”

Kia spent what felt like forever caressing Sullivan’s inner thighs and admiring her spread legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said, looking at Sullivan’s vulva and kissing lightly around the edges of her labia.

“If I’m beautiful…” Sullivan let the need in her voice finish the sentence.

“What?” Kia asked, kissing Sullivan’s pubic hair just above where Sullivan wanted her to kiss.

“You would—”

Kia drew her tongue all the way from Sullivan’s opening, across her clit and back down.

“I would do that?”

“Yes!”

Sullivan forgot that the skylight was open and the entire She-Pack rugby team (fifteen players plus alternates) was nearby, and cried out in pleasure.

Then she laughed and gasped and stifled another cry as Kia drew Sullivan’s clit into her mouth so gently Sullivan felt like the pleasure and the tenderness might break her.

Kia continued, asking Sullivan what she liked and where it felt best. How hard? How fast?

A few times, Sullivan lifted herself onto her elbows to look at Kia because she couldn’t believe this was real.

Kia was making love to her. Kia, the brilliant kid from school, who Sullivan had tried so hard to beat, whose company she’d enjoyed so much Kia defined her culinary education.

Kia Gourmazing with hundreds of thousands of followers.

Kia, who showed up on her lawn to ask the most outrageous favor.

Kia, whose presence made Sullivan’s house feel like home.

Kia was kissing her and massaging the tight cords of muscle in her legs and sucking and—

The first orgasm washed over Sullivan like a shallow wave.

Kia hesitated, then resumed, pressing her thumb against Sullivan’s hip flexor while she slid two fingers inside her.

Sullivan didn’t know if she luxuriated for seconds or minutes or hours.

Time vanished. Then pleasure claimed her, and exploded like a pinata cake full of Pop Rocks.