N/A - For Angela and her persistent bugging lol. I'm just kidding, you couldn't bug me if you tried, haha. I think I'm going to have to eventually give in and give you what you want. I don't think either of them can stand much more of this tbh. Enjoy...

It was the heavenly smell that caught her attention first. Her aching and hungry stomach let out a loud grumbling growl as the amazing aroma of…something drifted up her nose. "God," she sighed, her mouth literally starting to drool at how good it smelled. After their spat earlier she had taken a bath to calm her nerves and it had done just that. She felt calm, relaxed and no longer wound up by that fucking jerk downstairs, the same jerk who was obviously cooking up a storm and the same jerk that was once again causing her blood to boil. Stephanie took a deep breath and let it out slowly before setting her book down on the bed and tentatively walking to the door. She couldn't stay up here forever and she hungry as hell for Christ sakes! "Time to face the music," she mumbled to herself. Her footsteps were light as her bare feet carried her over to the stairs and lightly down. The intensity of the wonderful smell hit her full force and she audibly moaned while her ears filled with the sound of the football commentators in the background. Whatever he was cooking she was having some and she didn't give a damn what he said about it. Taking another deep breath, she stood just outside the swinging door to the kitchen and letting it out in a quick puff, she burst through the door and her face couldn't help but upturn into a smile. He stood before her in just his swim shorts from earlier with one hand holding the handle of a simmering pan while the other held a wooden spoon that was just about hovering above it. His attention however, was completely focused on the TV where the game was still playing. She bit her lip, watching as he practically bounced on his feet in anticipation of the touchdown about to come. Unbeknownst to him was the fact that whatever was in the pan was starting to boil.

"Throw it! Throw it! Fucking throw the ba….YES! YES! Touchdown bab-ay!" he said to himself, his hand absently waving the wooden spoon in the air.

Stephanie inwardly scoffed. What was it about men and fucking sports? Her pretty face quickly unfurled from its frown when his loud cry erupted throughout the kitchen.

"FUCK! OW! FUCKING HELL!" Paul yelled loudly as the feeling of boiling hot carbonara sauce splashed onto his hand. He immediately set the pan down on to the same hob and threw the spoon in, almost in disgust, before stepping to the sink to run his burned skin underneath the cool water. "Jesu-yeow!" he yelled again upon contact, his body visibly shuddering. He stood there with his hand underneath the tap until he heard muffled laughter from the vicinity of the door. He stiffened in embarrassment and slowly turned around, his head low and expression sheepish.

Their eyes locked and for a brief moment everything just disappeared. Stephanie felt her insides churn with heat. What the hell was he doing to her? Her body had never reacted to any man like this before and the worst part was that she was absolutely fighting it tooth and nail. She didn't want to respond to him. Hell, he wasn't even doing anything here and she was on fire. She held his gaze for a few more moments until they were both interrupted by the loud bubbling of the sauce in the pan. Paul moved to grab it but was beaten to it. He simply stood back and watched as she turned the heat down and gave the sauce a quick stir. It wasn't burned nor was the chicken or bacon within either.

"Yeah, uhhhh…sorry about that…I uhhhh…..I burned my hand," he laughed nervously, completely thrown by her presence. He hadn't been expecting her and just how long had she been standing there anyways?

"I can see that. Seems like this house just doesn't want to be your friend, huh?"

Paul looked at her unsure whether she was joking or being serious. "Maybe. But I'm persistent. I'm sure it'll end up liking me in the end."

She turned and caught his eye once again, knowing that his words had nothing to do with the house and everything to do with her. "And what makes you so sure of that?"

"Oh I don't know," his cheeky smile returned along with his swagger, the surprise of her turning up unexpectedly wearing off. "I think she…it…whether it wants to admit it or not, kinda likes me already anyways."

Stephanie rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Of course you do. You don't have a humble bone in your body," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I said you don't have a humble bone in your body. I'm sure you think everybody likes you and every woman just wants to jump into bed with you."

Paul chuckled at the disgusted expression on her face prompting her to look at him again and burn a hole right through him. "And what makes you so sure of that?" he said slyly, mimicking her question from before. "You know, you may act like you hate me and want to cut my balls off every time you see me but I don't know, Stephy. If you hated me that much I think you would have left by now."

"Stop fucking calling me that," she said pointedly placing a hand on her hip. "And if you think that you being a humungous asshole is going to make me leave this house then you have another thing coming. I'm onto your little game. You think you're going to ruin my time here? No, no, no, no, no! I don't think so. If anybody's leaving this house, it's going to be YOU, not me." She glared at him again, trying to fight down the craving deep in the pit of her stomach. Jesus Christ this was entirely fucked up. Every time they argued she felt the longing build deep in her gut. It was as if their verbal sparring was an outlet for something else…something a lot more sordid and something she wanted desperately. No. She wasn't desperate. She wasn't desperate for him or anything he could give her…well…except this food which she was taking with her if she had to fight him for it. She broke their staring contest and grabbed a plate from one of the cupboards behind her.

"What are you doing?" he asked in confusion, finally taking his hand from under the cool water stream and turning off the tap. Like hell she was eating anything he cooked after that little speech.

"I'm putting some of this on a plate and then I'm going to eat it, now move!" Her eyes cut right through him as he came to stand right in front of her, effectively trapping her between the kitchen counter and his body.

Stephanie sucked in a breath when she felt his bare chest practically rub against the cotton of her tank. He was close, so close, close enough to…

"The fucking hell you are," he growled lowly, his deep hazel eyes growing dark as he stared down at her. This wasn't the best move, stepping in so close to her. He could feel her breasts heaving against his chest as she obviously breathed heavily in anger in front of him and it was driving him crazy. Food be damned. He wanted to turn her around and fuck her against the counter but he was pretty sure she would cut his balls off if he even tried. They were in the kitchen after all. Too many sharp implements.

"Just try and stop me," she hissed back at him. She lifted her free hand and pushed against his chest, ignoring the absolute rush of energy that shot through her body upon touching him. Her eyes gazed at the smooth skin of his neck for a few moments and were forced shut as all sorts of nasty images started running through her head.

Paul caught her eyes slipping closed and smirked to himself. He was having an effect on her and a good one at that. Deciding to chance his luck, he pushed against her a little harder as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Her head began to spin at his hushed words and gentle breath on her neck. She swore he just brushed his lower lip against her earlobe. What the fuck? Jesus this was too much. She was overwhelmed, completely and utterly overwhelmed by the feel of his body, by his whispered words in her ear, by his intoxicating smell hell even his damn food! God, what the hell was wrong with her? She wanted to slap him yet at the same time wanted to drop the plate to the floor and jump his fucking bones right then and there. It was almost on the tip of her tongue to call his bluff and tell him that yes, yes she would like it but in an instant, he was gone. Her eyes fluttered open to find him standing back over beside the hob stirring the sauce in the pan. The plate from her hand had also magically disappeared. When the hell had that happened? "Wha…." She stuttered in confusion.

"If I remember correctly," he began, partly turning his body to face her with nothing but a smile on his face. "You said you'd be damned if you would eat any of my shitty ass food as you so wonderfully described it. I hate to tell ya sweetheart but this," he held up the pan and wiggled it about for good measure. "This right here is my shitty ass food and you aren't getting any of it." With everything in him he bit back the onslaught of laughter dangerously threatening to burst forth from within him at the ghastly look on her face. "If you'll just turn around and look over there you'll see that I labelled our respective cupboards. Mine's is in the one labelled 'Paul.' Yours is in the one labelled 'Stephy.'

Stephanie read the big white label to her right and instantly felt her unbridled anger towards this insufferable man explode to the surface. Stephy (AKA: Man beater and psycho BITCH!). That's what the label read. Man beater and psycho bitch, actually, BITCH, in capital letters. Her body literally began to shake with anger and when she turned around he was already sitting at the table with the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he took a bite of the chicken hanging from the fork in his hand. The empty pan was poking out from the sink with its contents currently piled up on his, no wait, her plate!

"I'm sure you'll find something to eat in your little cupboard there. I'll just enjoy my pasta." He winked and took a gulp of water before completely ignoring her and continuing on with his meal.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Her fists clenched hard at her sides. So help her God she wanted to walk over there and wipe that fucking smirk of his fucking face. Gah, she was so angry to the point where she could literally feel the anger coursing through her veins. She had to get out of there before she did something stupid and quite possibly killed him. Oh but it would be worth it and then some. Then she'd eat his pasta and chuck the leftovers over his stupid dead body! With a surprising calmness, Stephanie turned and exited the kitchen without making a scene. She walked right to the door, grabbing her jacket and purse on the way and made for the little hill that would take her to the beach and into the town. There were plenty of restaurants and places she could find food and hopefully something to drink. The thought of going back to the house later infuriated her. If she had to she may as well stock up on some Dutch courage beforehand. It was the only way she was going to get through living with that jackoff. With a steely determination and radiating anger in her step, she headed into town and set about finding somewhere for dinner, ignoring the calls in her brain to just go back and smash a plate over his head. Fuck him. You'd like that wouldn't you? His whispered voice echoed through her mind and she shook her head in annoyance. Now he was taking over her damn thoughts as well as her vacation, the bastard. This was doing nothing but keeping her angry. She gradually came to a stop and took a seat on the small wall separating the beach from the sandy path. Her eyes slid shut and she let the calming sound of the waves slapping against each other filter through her senses, slowly bringing peace to her mind. Yes, getting out of that house had been the best thing she'd done all damn day.