28

"What's wrong?" she asks suddenly, making me look at her questioningly. How did she know something was wrong? "Your arms are folded, your lips are slightly parted and you have a little vein popping out at the side of your head," she chuckles as she points to my temple.

"What does that mean?" I challenge. She folds her arms and sighs out loud, getting ready to read me.

"That, among other things, could mean you were in lost thought. You may have also been reminiscing because your lips were in a straight line." I scoff, smiling at what she just said.

"You were looking at my lips?" I smirk. She rolls her eyes and tries to bite off her smile, turning around. I can feel her smiling to herself.

"Fleetingly," she defends herself as she walks back to her desk. Is she wearing anything under that shirt?

She sits on the study armchair with one leg on the other and I catch a glimpse of what seems to be black briefs.

"You just gonna stand there or?"

I close the door and walk towards her table and give her the bottle I brought her. "What are you reading?" I ask, seeing as it's something to do with psychology.

"Psychology and human behaviour," she simply says as she copies the entire webpage, opens a new Word Document, pastes the text and saves it before exiting. Then she turns and gives me her full attention, subtly rolling her eyes.

"You may sit on my bed," she gestures and I do as told. She has a perfect pedicure in nude polish and a golden anklet that I haven't seen before.

"How was your day?" I ask and she sighs.

"Fun, actually. I enjoyed the company of Ryan and Miguel and I got the chance to talk to Tiara," she grinned, "who later dropped me here. How was yours?"

"Uh, mine was," messed up, "ordinary. Caught up with a friend," I inwardly cringe at the thought of calling Paige a friend.

"Paige?" she asks giving me this 'are you serious?' look.

"Yes," I admit. "Why don't you like her?"

"Her vibe is off," she dismisses it, but I have a feeling there's more to it.

"I understand. Well, I'm sorry, too." Her expression morphs into confusion, asking me to explain.

"For being jealous of Miguel."

"You're forgiven."

"Thank you," I say, laughing a little now that the tense air has dissipate.

***

"No, no, no!" she yells, making me freeze. 

"Did I mess it up?" I ask, trying to hold my laugh in.

"Who told your thick skull that you add water to the batter?!"

"You did! You said add the water that's next to the blender and mix," I defend myself, pointing to the blender.

"No, Jesucristo. I said don't add the water that's next to the blender," she scolds, her native accent coming out. "Because I knew you were going to make that mistake."

"Is it ruined?" I ask, trying to look serious and not piss her off but I'm dying inside.

"It won't have flavour," she shrugs.

"We can add more dry ingredients?"

"From where, hmm?" she snaps. "The floor?"

I lose it then and there, laughing my ass off as I look at the kitchen floor. true enough, it's covered with absolutely every baking ingredient you can think of to ever exist in a kitchen.

"This is not funny," she says, laughing silently. She looks more annoyed than angry, which is saying something. I've spent all evening being insulted in 3 different languages.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I suck at baking," I say and she raises an eyebrow. I roll my eyes. "And cooking." She tilts her head, folding her arms across her chest. "And frying potatoes."

"And you failed at microwaving popcorn," she rubs it in my face.

"I'll do better next time."

"There isn't any. I understand why your mom doesn't let you cook," she says, getting a cloth and starting to clean up.

"I'll run to the shop and buy more baking stuff. Anything I can get you?"

"I don't need anything," she says, turning her back on me.

"How about some ice cream? Chocolate chip is your favourite, right?"

"My favourite is vanilla and caramel," she corrects. Oh. The chocolate chip is Cara's.

"There's none in the house but if I go and get it for you, will you stop being mad at me?"

"Maybe," she bites her lip and I see a smile forming already.

"Be right back," I tell her as I grab my keys from the rack and head out.

The trip to the shop was short. It was partially empty due to the time, so I quickly got the stuff I remembered and made sure to get as many vanilla and caramels as possible. After that. I rushed back home to find the kitchen partially clean, just the floor that needs to be mopped.

I call out for her after setting everything in the cabinets and hear her say 'in here' from inside the cleaning supplies closet. I walk in to find her standing on a barstool, reaching up for the half empty bottles of detergents.

The stool starts to wobble and I immediately rush to hold her steady by her waist. "What are you looking for?"

"The floor wash. Do you know where it is?"

"Should be somewhere around here. I'll look for it," I say, holding her waist to help her down. "Your ice cream is in the freezer. You can go watch a movie in the living room. I'll come join you after cleaning up everything else."

Without giving her a chance to refuse, I gently shove her out of the closet and start looking for the floor cleaner. After not finding it, but finding a number of other types of washing detergents that clearly say should not be mixed with bleach or something, I take those many almost empty ones and fill them up with water to rinse the soap out.

"Soap is soap," I mutter as I put the mop in the bucket of water of various detergents and start whistling as I work quickly.