Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or its characters. I own the plot of this, though.
Author's Note: Here's the chapter a girl named Arya Herrera (cough) harassed me for. :)) I still love you, you know that & you know you still love me, woman. (evil laugh). HAHA. This one's good chapter. It isn't a blah filler one, and I actually kinda like this. :D And it's my longest chapter yet! :D By the time you finish reading this, you'd know how to make a simple meal. LMAO. :)) Enjoy!
Thank you to June Afternoon & vampireweekend for the story alert add! Thank you, ChloewithLOVE, Angie-Ange, BlueEyedGunSlinger, ANGELOFTHEBLACKROSES, the3rdbronte, Lizzi Marie Cullen, Bookflower, June Afternoon & Straw Hat Melodyfor the wonderful Reviews! Hugs to all!
--xx--
Chapter 12
"I'm sorry," I smiled apologetically. "Can you take your shoes off?"
"Sure," he laughed as he removed his footwear and placed them on the rack by the door.
"The whole place is carpeted," I explained. "You're dealing with an obsessive-compulsive neat freak here."
"No problem," he laughed.
He walked to my living room and examined the frames of various shapes and sizes hanging from the walls. The said frames held photographs I took and had printed. He seemed so amused by them. It was a pleasant sight – Edward so engrossed. He occasionally reached out to touch a photo, as if he would be able to feel the real thing. I giggled slightly.
"Sorry," he chuckled. "You took these?"
"Yeah," I said as I walked towards him. "What do you think?"
"I like them," he smiled. "Especially this one – it's my favorite."
He was pointing to a picture of a place back home. It was a picture of a grass meadow one sunny day. Big puffs of clouds could be seen overhead. A lake could be seen from a distance. Children were flying kites everywhere. It was a scene that made you think of purity.
"Glad you feel that way," I said. "Maybe someday you'd visit my country. I'd bring you there."
"I'd like that," he said, turning to me.
"Make your self at home," I said as I walked to the kitchen. "I'll be making dinner. Holler if you need anything."
"Will do," he laughed.
As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, I started rummaging through the cupboards, the pantry and the refrigerator for anything to serve tonight. I found a bottle of pesto in the cupboard and a pack of fettuccine in the pantry. I exhaled in relief. I wasn't completely foodless!
I filled up a pot with water and let it boil. I grabbed a pan and started to sauté garlic. I emptied the contents of the pack of frozen peeled shrimp I found inside my freezer, then half a bottle of pesto sauce. While that was cooking, bubbles started to form on the water's surface so I added a teaspoon of olive oil and some salt before adding my pasta. I rushed back to my green sauce, mixed it a bit and turned the heat off. I decided to make garlic bread slices so I sliced some cloves of garlic and rubbed it onto pieces of French baguette I bought earlier that day at Le Pain. I brushed on butter and sprinkled grated mozzarella, ground pepper and selected spices, and then I popped it in the oven. While waiting for the pasta to cook and the bread to bake, I searched for some plates, utensils and glasses. I set the forks, knives and glassware on the table.
"You mind drinking diet soda?" I called out from the kitchen.
"Not at all," he replied. I brought out a bottle of soda to the table. "Do you need help there?"
"No, I'm almost done. Go sit in the dining room."
"Alright."
I saw him walk into the dining area that's right in front of the kitchen. I heard the oven ring and I pulled out the cheesy garlic bread. My pasta was ready, too, so I strained the water and dumped the pasta in a big bowl. I poured in the pesto sauce and tossed the fettuccine until it was completely coated. I divided in into two portions and transferred them to the plates. I placed two pieces of bread per plate and grated more mozzarella on everything. I exited the kitchen with our dinner in hand and set them down on the table.
"Woah," he gasped. "This looks great!"
"Thanks," I smiled shyly. "Let's eat."
He nodded and began to twirl pasta with his fork. I did the same and ate a mouthful. It wasn't as bad as I dreaded it would be. Modesty aside, it was actually good.
"This tastes great," he said, appreciatively.
"Thank the bottle of pre-made pesto sauce," I laughed.
"But you tweaked it," he said as he took a bite of the bread. "And you made this, which tastes amazing, by the way."
"I saw the Italian girl making it on TV. I decided to try it out."
"I didn't know you cook."
"Well, there's still a lot you don't know about me, Edward," I stated.
"That's true. There's so much to find out about you!"
"There's a lot to know about you, too."
"I have an idea," he said excitedly.
"What?"
"I'll tell you later. Let me eat in silence!"
We both laughed and continued to eat our dinner in peace. Ten minutes later, we were both done. I stood up to clear the dishes but he was quicker. He brought our plates and utensils to the sink and started washing.
"Hey," I said. "You don't have to do that."
"I don't," he smiled. "But I want to."
"Whatever you say."
I sat on the counter adjacent to the sink, watching him rinse the dishes before arranging them inside the dishwasher. He even cleaned the pot, pan and utensils I used to make dinner. I smiled at him when he stood in front of me after he was done.
"Want to make dessert?" I grinned as I got down from the counter top.
"Absolutely," he beamed.
I opened the pantry and pulled out a box of mint chocolate-flavored Pop-tarts. I took from the cabinet two dessert plates and set them on the counter. I took a gallon of mint ice cream from the freezer and a pack of marshmallows, sprinkles and chocolate syrup from the refrigerator.
"Kudos," he laughed. "You're well-equipped!"
"I'm a kid living alone," I said defensively. "What else would you expect to be inside my refrigerator?"
"Point taken."
We opened a pack of Pop-tarts each and stared working on our dessert masterpieces. We drew shapes using the chocolate syrup and made stuff out of marshmallows. We couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of the things we created. I wouldn't be surprised if we could be heard by my neighbors.
"And this," he said proudly, gesturing to his most recent creation. "Is an elephant!"
"No, it isn't," I laughed.
"You're right," he sighed. He grabbed the bottle of chocolate syrup. "Needs more trunk!"
He squirted some chocolate syrup on the plate. Instead of landing only on his Pop-tart, the air in the bottle forced chocolate to come flying all over the place, hence the brown spots on our faces, arms and clothes. We looked at each other, trying to suppress our giggles at first, then we burst out laughing. After our fit was over, we wiped off the chocolate from most surfaces.
"You have something on your cheek," he laughed.
"Where?" I said as I started wiping all over my face in search of the stubborn splotch of chocolate.
"Not there," he snickered.
He reached out to remove the stain with his bare hand. I looked at him with surprise, and apparently, he looked just as shocked. I think I blushed a little but I wasn't sure. There wasn't a mirror anywhere near, but thank God for my naturally pink cheeks. They camouflage my undesired blushing moments.
"Wait!" I exclaimed just as he was about to devour his work of art.
"What?" he said, putting back the fork on the plate.
"The thing I was going to show you."
"Oh, right. What is it?"
"Come," I said as I picked up my plate. "Follow me."
