Our lips are just about to touch.
I pull away abruptly, realizing what I'm doing. He looks confused. "I-I have to f-feed my cat," I say before disappearing into the kitchen. I can hear the song coming to an end the living room, as Rick stands there alone.
I sit on the floor on the kitchen. I'm scared. It's not Rick's scaring me. The kiss isn't what I'm scared of either. Being, with a boy isn't the thing that's scaring me either.
It's that fact that I actually wanted him to kiss me.
It sinks. Everything sinks in, finally. I didn't see it coming. I never would've see this coming. Rick almost kissed me. And the fact that I actually enjoyed it scares me more than anything else. It sinks in that I have feelings for him. Last time I liked someone, my best friend stabbed me in the back.
What will happen this time?
He doesn't even feel the same. Does he? No, he couldn't. Out of all the beautiful and rich girls, he couldn't like me. He has a company to run and he needs someone strong and all that – someone not me. He probably tried kissing me because of the spur of the moment.
It's been twenty minutes. The electricity has turned back on but I've been sitting on the white-tiled kitchen floor for twenty minutes. I'm a coward. How am I supposed to face him now?
My face is in my hands and my back is against the fridge. Why did I tell Rick I had to go feed my cat? I don't even have a cat. I wonder if he's still standing in the living room, or if he left. He couldn't have. There's a storm. Wait, what if my rejection caused him to angrily storm out?
Worried, I get up and dash to the living room only to find Rick sleeping peacefully on the couch with the fireplace still crackling with fire. He looks so calm and serene. It fills me up with regret. I should've let him kiss me before I ran away.
It's not too late, a voice in the back of my head says. I push that thought away. I don't want to violate him while he's sleeping. That'd be creepy.
But he looks so tempting to touch.
He looks young when he's sleeping. The crease on his forehead that's always there is gone. His face is acne-free and has better complexion than mine. I don't realize that I'm brushing his hair away from his eyes until his eyebrow twitches.
I pull back immediately. It would be so awkward if he wakes up at this moment. I owe him a kiss. He took all the courage to try to kiss me and I just shot him down and ran away. Besides, he's unconscious. No harm done.
Taking a gulp, I slowly inch my face to his. His head is turned the other way so I take his face in my face and give him a quick peck. I smile mischievously. I feel so badass.
His eyes suddenly open. Dumbly, I smack his face. Rick shouts in pain and jolts up. I gasp, covering my own mouth in surprise.
"Why did you hit me?!" he yells, clutching his cheek from the red mark that's starting to form under his hand.
"Um, m-mosquito," I shrug. He gives me a strange look – maybe a glare – as if he's actually challenging the idea that I really hit him because a mosquito was on his face. "You're welcome," I add.
"For what?!"
"Saving your blood from being sucked," I reply nonchalantly. "Now, come on. Get up. Let's eat some dinner." It's back. There's no awkwardness. We're back to the way it was before the whole candlelight scene. Rick's back to his cold, rich douche demeanor, and I'm back to the girl who hates him. I'm glad. I'd hate it to be any other way.
I walk to the kitchen with Rick hot on my heels, still rubbing his cheek. Maybe, I shouldn't have hit him that hard. He mutters something about when the lights had came back on. I glance over at him. His hair is all messed up. I didn't notice before, but he's wearing his suit. Of course, I think as I roll my eyes. He just can't wear anything else.
"Give me something to eat." He orders, taking a seat at the island. Already, I hate his tone. He's in my house and yet he's ordering me around.
Just because he's a guest and because mom says to always be nice to guests (and try not to strangle them) I smile and say, "What would you like to eat?"
"Nothing you give me will delight my taste buds. Cheap food just doesn't do for me," he says, faking a yawn. My eyebrow twitches in anger. Okay, stay calm. Stay calm, I repeat in my head. He's just mad because you rejected his sorry ass.
"Oh yeah?" I challenge, squinting my eyes.
"I'm certain."
He asked for it. I still remember a dish Granny taught me before she moved out of New York and to Boston. Rick's going to wish he never challenged me on my cooking skills .You want to bet?"
He arches his eyebrow, clearly amused. "Sure. What's the deal?" His arms are crossed now – probably trying to look more superior – but all it's doing are making my eyes wander to his flexing muscles. Focus, I scold myself.
"Whoever makes the greatest dinner wins," I say, crossing my own arms. "The other person will taste it and we both have to be honest and tell each other if our meals taste good." I rest my hands on the granite counter of the island. "Deal?"
"Deal," He smirks. I smirk back, he's so going down.
I show him all the food and materials he needs to know. I bet he's never touched a pan in his life. He was born into richness – probably never cooked. That's why I feel so confident about this bet. I grin to myself just thinking about winning – earning a strange look from Rick. I am so going to win this bet.
While I'm boiling my pasta and Rick is making some sort of soup, he suddenly asks, "Wait, what's the reward? If one of us wins, what do we get?"
"Hm," I say, my wooden spoon in mid-air. "Whatever the other person wants, I guess. Is that okay with you?"
"Fine by me," He smirks. He continues his recipe after that and I continue my recipe. Granny had taught me this delicious pasta recipe. Every family gathering over holidays, she would make it. My mouth waters from even thinking about it.
I scoop up the strings of the pasta and rinse them before adding pepper and spices. I pull out the meat sauce I had been working on while my pasta was boiling and spread it over the disj. For the final touch, I add some mint leaves for good breath. It'd be so embarrassing if Rick points out I have bad breath.
"Done!" He announces. I hear him place his dish on the island counter. I bring mine over, too. Peaking at his dish, I realize it's soup. So average, I think while smirking. Bit it smells pretty good.
"I'm done, too," I say.
We place our dishes side by side. Both look so extravagant together – unlike Rick and I. he hands me a spoon and I hand him a fork. We switch places and I take a sip of his. There's bread next to his soup so I bite down on the soft bread and sip more of his creamy soup.
To say it's delicious would be an understatement of the century.
It's so delicious that I'm scarfing everything down in a matter of seconds. How did he learn how to cook? It's so scrumptious. I underestimated that boy. Looks like a dumb snotty kid but cooks like a pro.
"enjoying yourself?" He's resting on his elbow on the tabletop, staring at me with an amused glee in his eyes. Never let your guard down with the enemy, I scold myself.
I remove the spoon from my mouth and place it on the plate mat. I push a string of hair behind my hair. "It's okay," I shrug.
He chuckles – the best sound I've heard tonight. "Really? It kind of looked like you were eating like you were on the brink of starvation."
Red fills my cheeks. "Shut up. It just isn't too bad for a rich kid."
"Well, I have my hidden talents," he muses. "You're not too bad either for such a," he pauses, stroking his chin, "average girl." Rick starts chuckling again.
I pick up some flour that I had used for my pasta and throw it at him. He's caught off guard and his face gets white powder all over it. I start cracking up as he stands still for a couple of moments, rendering what just happened in his brain. I bet he never thought that he would get flour thrown at him. I giggle at the thought.
I'm so busy laughing that I don't see flour flying across the kitchen and onto my chest. I look down at my sweater. Ah man! This was brand new, too! I think angrily. I grab a fistful of flour and rub it all over his suit. Once I see his expression, I regret doing so. Note to self, never anger a rich guy by ruining his expensive suit.
"You are so going down, Miss Quinn Fabray!" He says. He used my full name. he's probably fuming with anger on the inside. He starts to lunge at me but I start running around to the other side of the kitchen. "Get back here!"
"Why would I ever listen to you?" I laugh, running once again as he tries to grab my arm. It's a close centimeter but I move quickly on time. Before I know it, we're throwing flour and everything we can find at each other. It's so much fun I don't even realize the mess we're making.
Rick is running towards me but he slips over some broken eggs on the ground. It's the most hilarious thing I've ever seen. I laugh for ten minutes straight as his cheeks redden. Thinking it's time I help him up. I rush over but being clumsy person I am – I trip on top of him.
I can feel the vibration from Rick's laughter as his chest falls up and down. My cheeks as red as I try to grasp any last piece of my reputation. But then I wonder why I care. I start laughing along with him. It was pretty funny.
We're laughing and laughing until our sides start aching. After, I just lay on top of him. The mood changes instantly.
I get on my knees. "Oh, I'm sorry! Didn't mean to sit on you."
He awkwardly laughs and gets on his knees too. "It's fine." His eyes set on mine and the magnetic force is back. I want to kiss him. We're inching closer before he pulls away. "We should probably clean up."
Rejection. Pure rejection. It burns.
"Y-Yeah, we should. My mom will kill me if she finds the kitchen in this shape," I say, hoping he doesn't catch the sadness and disappointment in my voice. I stand up and start picking things off the ground.
"I'll get the kitchen," he says. "You go clean up." He's being surprisingly nice. His eyes show nothing but kindness. Does he feel guilty? "Just bring me something to put on."
I nod slowly and head out of the kitchen. I bite my cheek in the hallway to stop the tears from falling out. Rick rejected me. He doesn't feel the way I feel. I knew it. Is this how he felt when I pulled away earlier? It feels so cruel.
Stepping into the shower, I let my tears out as I clean the flour and egg off my body. I wash myself twice before heading into my bedroom to change. When I try to find something to wear, I curse mom for putting all my comfortable clothes in the laundry. All I have are undergarments.
I walk to mom's bedroom in my bra and underwear and pick out one of her t-shirt and shorts. They're a bit big and baggy on me, thankfully. I kind of feel happy she decided to put all my clothes in the laundry. It gives me a chance to show off my body to him – one of the only things I'm proud about myself.
"Here," I say once I reach back into the kitchen. It's only half clean. I throw him some of dad's old clothes. "They used to belong to my dad."
"Thanks," Rick smiles genuinely. "But you don't have to give me your dad's clothes. I mean, they're special to you, right?" He starts running his eyes over my body.
"It's fine," I grin, noticing his eyes and how Rick actually listened when I was rambling about my dad earlier. It's a shame he doesn't like me. The thought brings a frown back to my face. I feel tears coming on. "Um, you go shower. I'll take care of the rest."
I don't want him to see me crying again. I don't want to appear weak.
He nods and walks out of the kitchen. I mop up the floors and parts of the countertops that he had missed. Everything else seemed to be cleaned up pretty good. Again, not too bad for a rich kid, I think. When I hear the shower running off, I microwave our dishes and set it up on the island.
When he returns, my jaw drops for a split-second. It always surprises me when I see him without a suit. He looks like a normal teenager without it.
"I-I heated our meals if you're still hungry," I say. I get us some water with ice and place everything on the island. I take a seat.
"I would love to continue our little fight – which I was winning by the way – but my stomach feels like it's eating itself alive," Rick grins, taking a seat next to me. "I haven't even tasted your pasta yet."
"Well, be prepared. You are about to be blown away."
I don't start eating his soup. I watch for his reaction. He spins some pasta onto his fork and into his mouth. His eyes widen a fraction, but I catch it anyways.
"Told you it would be delicious," I brag. Satisfied with his reaction, I continue drinking his delicious soup without containing myself. "And you said you would actually win this contest."
"I never said it was delicious. It's okay. Could use better spices, though." He continues eating my pasta, pushing his comments aside.
"Denial," I point out. "Besides, if you had tasted it while it was fresh off the stove, you would've said otherwise. I make a mean meat sauce. You can't deny that, can you?" He just chuckles. "Hey, who taught you this? It's pretty good for a rich kid."
"Um, my father," Rick says. His voice is low. I've never seen him talking about something that's ever made him vulnerable. I realize he's never opened up to me. I told him about my father, but he's never told me about his. "It's an old British recipe."
"I knew you were British!" I say, trying to lighten the mood. "I could so tell. I have skills. Just like my amazing cooking skills that you keep denying." I don't want to push him into telling me about his father when he doesn't want to talk about it.
"Whatever you say."
The rest of the dinner we switch jokes and talk about random things like the weather and what not. It's a comfortable conversation with light-hearted quirks. It feels nice. I push away all negative thoughts and just enjoy the moment.
I hope it stays like this.
Yep, another chapter I hope you guys like it. Now I'm feeling hungry, which explains all the food haha! And nothing serious yet just some light stuff so be ready for some more goodness, now I'm being cliche xD
Anyway, thank you for your support that helps me so keep it up guys!
I'm out! See you later! BYEBYE xD