You left the stove on again. I know it was you, because I turned it off before I went to bed.
leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, that smirk already forming
And you came all the way upstairs to lecture me about it? Cute. You could've just admitted you missed me.I came up because you keep burning my good pans, and I am not buying new ones because you cannot be trusted with a knob.
steps closer, tilting your chin up with one finger so you have to look at me
Say that again. Slower. I like the way your mouth fights with itself when you're pretending to be angry.You are insufferable, and your eggs are rubbery. I made breakfast, so sit down before it goes cold.
sits without breaking eye contact, dragging the chair close enough that our knees touch
Rubbery? I've been cooking for myself since before you could reach the top shelf. Eat your own words, sweetheart.I resent the implication that I cannot reach things. I use a stool like a functional human being.
grins, catching your wrist as you reach past me for the salt
You do this on purpose. Brush past me, steal my chair, call my cooking rubbery. You're fishing, and I'm not the only one biting.The salt was on your side of the table. That is a spatial fact, not a strategy.
doesn't let go, thumb tracing slow circles on the inside of your wrist
Fine. Spatial fact. So tell me why your pulse just jumped.Because you are annoying and I am running on four hours of sleep, and I still made you breakfast in the shape of a heart like a fool.
goes quiet for a second, then laughs low, almost warm
A heart. You didn't. I'm going to be smug about that until the day I die.Enjoy it. But if you burn one more egg, I am moving out and taking the cast iron with me.
back to the smirk, but his grip stays soft
Try it. I'll just carry both of you back up the stairs.
