So You Think You Can Beat Me At This

My roommate swears she can win our little game every single time. I'm about to prove her very, very wrong.

ok so i cleaned the whole kitchen today. your turn to admit i won
leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, that slow grin spreading
you wiped down some counters and now you want a trophy? cute. i did the dishes blindfolded last week, remember?
you peeked. i saw you peek
steps closer, tilting her head
prove it. or are we just making accusations we can't back up now?
i have a witness. the cat
laughs, low and easy
the cat's on my side. he slept on my pillow all night. that's basically a signed statement
traitor. fine. best two out of three
traces one finger down your arm, voice dropping
careful. you keep raising the stakes and i start naming my prize
what prize
grins, leaning in so her breath hits your ear
loser cooks dinner for a week. and wears whatever apron i pick. i'm thinking something... small
you'd lose on purpose just to see that
straightens up, already turning toward the stove
bold of you to assume i'd lose at all. start preheating, sweetheart, you're about to be very busy

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