"No, no," I giggled shoving George away from the stove, "you're sloshing it everywhere! You do it like this!" I grabbed his hand and slowed down his stirring. We were making something easy. Spaghetti and meatballs. George was supposed to be stirring the sauce, which I figured would be better if it was homemade, but George isn't doing anything right. I let go of his hand and watched him stir the sauce before I went back to draining the noodles. George looked at me and frowned.
"I thought you were supposed to make spaghetti noodles with Spaghetti." he said cocking an eyebrow at me. I giggled and shook my head.
"Not my spaghetti," I said pouring the curly noodles into a big bowl, "My spaghetti has Rotini instead. It's less messy and I think it makes it taste better." George rolled his eyes and ginned.
"I think you're totally crazy." He teased. I narrowed my eyes at him and then I swatted his hand away from the sauce. I picked up the pot and walked over to the bowl of Rotini. I nodded for him to come over and he sighed and walked over to me. I took his hands and I put them on the handle of the pot. I put my hand over his and I moved his hands around in a wide circle over the noodles. When all the sauce was poured out I looked at George and smiled. I caught him watching me instead of watching what he was doing with the pot and his hand slid on the handle and he burned his hand.
His eyes got wide and he let go of the pot, "Son of a-" he backed up and waved his hand. I rolled my eyes and took his elbow. I dragged him over to the sink and I turned on the cold water. I put his hand under it and he grimaced.
"Are you alright?" I asked, it came out rougher than I intended and he looked confused. He nodded and pulled his hand out of the water.
"Yeah that was hot," he said wiggling his fingers as he examined them.
"Well that's what happens when you use a pot to cook." I said sarcastically. George made a face at me and he dried off his hand with a hand towel, "Anyway it's ready." I said stirring the noodles and sauce together. The oven beeped suddenly and I looked at him.
"Can you get that?" I asked nodding to the oven. George nodded and picked up an oven mit. He opened the oven and pulled out a pan of nice hot garlic cheese rolls. George took a deep breath in and hummed.
"Those definitely taste good." he said. I laughed and shook my head.
"How do you know?" I asked putting the bowl on a the table. George shrugged and got out plates. I rolled my eyes again and shook my head.
"Bowls," I said getting out two bowls. George frowned and made a face at me, "Just trust me, babe." I said setting the bowls on the table with forks. I walked up behind him and I pushed him on the shoulders to the table. I sat him down and I filled his bowl with spaghetti. I handed him his fork and nodded.
He started eating while I fixed myself some spaghetti. I saw George reach for a roll and I shook my head and slapped his hand.
"Eat all the spaghetti first and then you can have a roll." I said sitting down. He narrowed his eyes at me and I smiled innocently at him. I ate my food and when I finished eating the noddles I looked up and waited for George to finish up his second helping.
When he did he reached for a roll. I let him take it and them I stopped him from shoving it in his mouth. He huffed and dropped it in his bowl in aggravation.
"What now?" he asked. I grinned and held up my roll silently. I dipped it in the leftover sauce in my bowl and took a bight. George cocked an eyebrow and did the same. He didn't protest much after that.
Once we were finished eating George and I washed the dishes we used and talked a bit.
"So, now you know how to cook Spaghetti." I said giggling. George nodded and put away the pot and pan we used after he dried them, "So when do I get my guitar lesson?" I asked handing him the last bowl. He grinned and set it on the counter.
"Right now." he took my hand and dragged me into the living room. He sat me down on the couch and then ran into his room and brought back his guitar. And not just any guitar, George Harrison's Gretsch guitar. I had a hard time not screaming at the top of my lungs.
"OK," George said putting the guitar in my lap and positioning himself behind me. He placed my fingers on the strings and he strummed. He nodded, "This is an A chord." he said. I nodded, "You strum." I did and I smiled. I remembered this chord from when I played before.
George moved my fingers and I looked at him, noticing how concentrated he looked, "OK, strum again." he said watching my fingers. I did and he grinned, "That's a G." I nodded, still watching him. He finally looked at me and I gasped when our eyes met. For some reason, I wasn't expecting it. George's hand reached to move my fingers again and I gasped again as a shock shot up my arm.
"Um, This chord's an E." George said without looking away from me. He moved my hand to strum and It made a bad sound. George made a face and looked at my fingers. He laughed and fixed them again before he made me strum again, "Play those chords again." he said gently. I nodded and played the A chord once then I played G and then E. He smiled at me and then I grinned back at him.
"Good," he said breathlessly. I didn't realize just how close we were until then. We stared at each other and finally George moved. I was a bit disappointed in the very least. He moved, not toward me, but away from me. He got up from the couch and I awkwardly looked at the guitar in my lap.
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked also getting up. George shook his head and picked up his jacket.
"No, I just need some..." he cleared his throat and he headed for the door, "I need some air." and then he left. I sighed and I played the chord on his guitar again before I set it down gently and went into his bedroom. I slammed the door as hard as I could and I plopped on the bed. What was I doing wrong? Why did he get upset with me at random?