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Three
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Amanda Samuels hadn't the foggiest idea how to flip a grilled cheese sandwich, April decided, watching her bestie scoop and turn over the bread slices with a spatula. She might not have been a decent cook herself, but at least she watched hack videos.
"You're doing it wrong," she teased, going around the island to where Amanda was holding the skillet. There was a flat white plate beside her, heaped with those she had cooked before April joined.
"Now watch," she said, grabbing another spatula. She inserted it flat under the sandwich and lifted it. With her other hand, she lifted the pan, turned it over the bread, then set everything down at once, the undercooked side now facing the pan.
She took a mock bow like she usually did during kitchen breakthroughs, feeling like half a chef. "I did it," she smiled at Amanda.
"Yeah, congrats. Please move." Amanda meandered her way to the opposite side of the kitchen to check on the bread in the toaster.
April grimaced. What was her problem?
"What's wrong?"
Amanda replaced the bread in the toaster and shrugged. "Nothing."
April sighed. It wasn't uncommon behaviour for Amanda to act like there's something wrong, only to reply with things like 'it's fine' or 'It's okay' when asked. They had been friends for ten years, briefly dated each other's brothers and been through enough for April to know when something was on Amanda's mind.
"Okay, spill."
"Spill what?"
"You're acting weird."
She flipped the sandwich her own way, set it down and turned the flame off on the burner. "I said I'm fine."
"Then why are you acting like you can't see me?"
"You mean like you didn't see me yesterday?"
She quirked her brows. "What?"
Amanda transported the sandwiches to the island. "Bet you're as good as flipping sandwiches as you are at dancing huh?" She murmured.
April was still confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Yesterday, at the party," Amanda replied, turning around to face April. "It was quite a show you put on."
April rolled her eyes. If anyone should have the right to wake up with regrets over dancing, it should be her, not Amanda. "Last I checked, you were the one who asked me to go."
Amanda dropped the ceramic on the marble counter with a loud clink. "That's not what I mean."
"Then what do you mean?" April raised her brows, hating the direction of the conversation. A fight with Amanda was not on her list of problems she wanted to encounter.
"Maybe I like expressing myself in other ways than putting myself on display," Amanda said, snatching a piece of paper towel. "Maybe you like dancing in public, but that's your thing, not mine."
YOU ARE READING
April 27th
Teen Fiction[Complete || 7x featured] April O'Brien is the perfect example of a firefly. Fresh out of highschool, she knows what she wants and it does not involve college, quite unlike what her father has planned. When she finds herself on summer vacation to a...
