(Maddy's P.O.V)

For some reason, baking always calmed me down.

I needed to calm down right now.

It'd been bad enough when Matthew had sat so close to me after he got pissed at Alfred. It hadn't helped that Alfred sucked at aiming and had almost hit Brittany and I, which had made Matthew scoot closer to me and be all protective. I'd been convinced that my heart was going to explode because of how fast it was beating. Then Brittany had fallen into the lake. That hadn't helped at all.

So ya, I needed to calm down.

Measuring the sugar and baking powder, I dumped the ingredients in the bowl and checked the recipe again. I'd never made a 'Hot Milk Cake' before, but it was the first cake recipe I'd found in the cookbook. Plus it sounded interesting and I wasn't against trying it.

Right then, Matthew walked in. I froze, then took a deep breath and smiled. "Hey."

He offered a small smile. "Hey." he was quiet for a minute and I absently scratched at a old, scabbed up cut running down my arm

"Um..." I looked up, waiting for him to finish "I was wondering if you wanted help."

I blushed and looked at my feet to hide it. "Sure." I finally choked out

I turned back to the counter and picked up the bowl of butter. "Could you melt this?"

His eyes lit up and he nodded. Reaching out, he grabbed the bowl. Our fingers touched and I inhaled sharply and pulled my hand away.

Matthew looked in the bowl, then back at me in confusion. "This is a lot of butter."

I nodded. "The recipe called for 10 tablespoons." So much butter. That's more than a stick.

He stared at the bowl, then shook his head and opened the microwave. I heard the door close and the buttons beep as they were pushed. I put the sugar and baking powder away, trying to keep the kitchen relatively clean. I dumped the milk and vanilla extract in the bowl to keep busy. It had become insanely hard to calm down.

Matthew picked up the eggs and cracked them into the bowl. As he pulled away, our hands brushed again and I gulped. My heart pounded. Calm down. I thought, opening the bag of flour. He grabbed the butter out of the microwave and poured it into the bowl. He must have been reading the recipe, since he wasn't hesitating about which ingredients to put in.

I stuck the milk in the fridge and the vanilla in the cupboard. "Can I ask you something?" I blurted out, the tension not giving me time to think and articulate my thoughts correctly.

He looked at me, startled. "I guess."

I took a deep breath. "This is going to sound weird, but what do I call you? I mean, I know that your real name is Matthew, but do you want me to call you by that or by Canada or...?" I trailed off

He blinked. "Matthew is fine. Honestly I don't care. As long as you don't call me 'matty,' I hate it when Alfred does that."

I stared at him in shock. "You do?" Since when?

He gave me a weird look. "Ya. Why?"

"No reason." I said quickly But all those fanfictions...

He cleared his throat and pulled the measuring cups out of a drawer by his leg.

I smiled to cover the awkwardness. "No calling you matty, got it." But honestly, hearing him say he hated the nickname was surprising. In almost every fanfiction I'd read, he'd been called 'matty/mattie' multiple times and never seemed to care. Of course those were just fanfictions but still.

He looked away and I winced. Had I said or done that made him uncomfortable? It was probably my question. I measured out the flour, put it in the bowl and started mixing the ingredients together. The oven beeped, signaling that it was done preheating and I poured the batter into the pan and stuck it in the oven.

"I hope this cake turns out ok." I muttered

"You hope?" He asked "Haven't you made it before?"

I shook my head. "No. I wanted to try a new recipe."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." Matthew said

I blushed and looked away. Did he mean that or was he just saying it to get me to calm down?

I turned toward the counter and started cleaning up, washing batter off the bowl and mixer. My stomach churned. The silence was deafening. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head and I looked at Matthew. He was wiping the counter by the oven off. Smiling, I grabbed the flour and crept up behind him. I got a handful of flour and waited.

He turned around and I threw it at his face. When the white cloud dispersed, his face, the top of his shirt and parts of his hair were covered in flour. I tried to look as innocent as possible, which was hard, considering I was still holding the flour.

Deliberately being slow, I got another handful and ruffled his hair. He pushed me away, grabbed another bag of flour and threw a handful at me. I squeaked in surprise without really meaning to. The flour hit me shockingly hard and I coughed as it exploded into a cloud.

Laughing quietly, I threw another handful at him. I slipped on a pile of flour and dumped the rest of the bag on Matthew's head when he bent down to help me up. I felt flour cascade onto my head and squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, I looked around the kitchen. "So much for trying to keep it clean." I said

About half the kitchen was covered in flour and Matthew was coated in the powder. I giggled and looked at the oven door. I wasn't vain and normally didn't look in the mirror unless I was brushing my hair, but this time I couldn't help it. My hair was white. "My hair hasn't been this color since I was like six."

Matthew chuckled. "My hair has never been white."

"How many bags of flour did we use?" I asked, counting two that I could see

He held up another two bags. "Four."

I poked his shoulder, leaving a white dot on the sleeve of his hoodie.

He poked me back, then wiped his flour covered hands on his hoodie. I did the same, only wiping my hands on my own shirt.

Then Brittany walked in.