Unexpected

20. Harry

"You know..." she begins to say, sitting at the counter, "I feel like I'm eight years old here with you without knowing what to do."

What the fuck does that mean? "Sorry, in what sense?" I ask her more cordially, leaning my elbows on the marble, right in front of her.

She giggles and looks at her hands. "Didn't you happen to be with a friend when you were little and you both didn't know what to play? Here, I feel like this with you."

"Play," I repeat aloud to myself without wanting to. "I have the impression that the two of us are already playing."

She looks up and is amused. "What would we be playing at? Let's hear."

I sigh. "You are playing with fire, Helen; I am playing a game without rules apparently."

She gets serious, she is almost worried. "So what is this game you are playing?"

I don't even know. "It's hard to explain and understand, even for me. When I understand something, I'll tell you."

She shakes her head. "You're weird." She gets up and goes to get a patch. She starts passing it on the counter. "Raise your arms," ​​she orders.

She makes me laugh. "Yes Ma'am. Then I'd be the weird one."

I hear her snicker. With a remote control she turns on the music coming from the speakers in the corner of the ceiling. She starts humming an Ariana Grande song, cliché.

"You're so obvious," I tell her, as I watch her move to the rhythm of the music.

She opens a door and stands on tiptoe to get to what she needs, but she doesn't get there. "Just because I listen to Ariana Grande doesn't mean I'm obvious. Help me? I can't get there."

I approach her. "What do you need?" I ask her and she points it out to me. Flour? "What are you going to do with the flour?"

She smiles biting her lower lip. "Cookies? To do something good and pass the time."

This girl is amazing.

She ties her hair back into a bun and immediately afterwards she washes her hands. She takes a kitchen apron and puts it on. Even this looks good on her.

"Don't you want to help me? Otherwise you'll get bored," she suggests me.

I wouldn't get bored looking at her, but I think I'd bother sitting all the time. "Okay," I reply with a sigh.

"Okay, put this on then." She shows me another apron. When I make a disgusted face Helen bursts out laughing.

"No way."

She takes eggs, sugar, milk, butter, water, baking powder and a lemon. "You'll get all your clothes dirty, you know."

"There is a simpler solution." She looks at me confused and when I take off the sweatshirt from above and I remain in the undershirt she winces and takes a sudden breath.

"Um... I— you— Okay." She can't formulate a sentence while she looks at me. I know the effect I have on her. She looks away and finally says to me, "Have you ever made cookies in your life?"

Now that I think about it... "When I was little, maybe. I don't remember well."

She giggles. "Oh good."

She takes a black notebook and flips it to the page she needs.

"What is that?" I ask, perhaps looking a little too curious.

She sighs and I see her close her eyes for a moment. She takes a deep breath. "Mine and my brother's cookbook we had when we were little."

Oh shit...

She sniffles and I understand that she's crying. I go up to her and hold her tight to my chest. "We loved baking together."

I caress her back. She is sobbing in my arms. It must have been a blow to her, I know they had a great relationship, I inquired after she told me — I asked Grace.

After a few moments of being hugged, she seems to have calmed down a bit. She pulls away from me and wipes her tears with the backs of her hands. "Sorry, it's just that I miss him more sometimes, even though it's been almost five years already."

"Don't worry, it's normal." I kiss her forehead, and she looks at me with those shining eyes; my heart fills with pain for her and all I want to do is make her happy, give her everything she needs... but I know I never could. "Come on, teach me how to make these cookies, I don't know where to start," I tell her to lighten the mood.

She smiles and starts telling me everything to do. "So..." she goes to get something I don't know what its name is. She sees my confused expression and explains that this is a sieve. "Weigh the flour and sift it on the bowl, so as to avoid lumps. Weigh the sugar and add it to the bowl..."

I do everything she tells me while she breaks the eggs into another smaller bowl and melts the butter in the stove. She pours these two into the bowl I made and she tells me to mix it all with the whip.

"So?" I have no idea what I'm doing, really.

She bursts out laughing as soon as she sees the way I'm mixing. "No, Harry! You need to mix clockwise. So, wait." She stands next to me and places her hand on mine, and we do the correct movement together. She looks up at my face and smiles at me. "You understand now?"

I nod and go on alone.

Now that the dough is ready we need to roll it out. Helen takes some flour and puts it on the work surface to prevent the dough from sticking.

"Now what— Helen, what are you doing!" I exclaim, she has dirtied my cheeks with flour. "Fuck."

She laughs out loud and takes a picture of me. "No! Don't clean up, look how cute you are" and she shows me the photograph.

"Oh fuck you, Helen." I run my hand across my forehead— merda. I got even more dirty.

Helen bursts out laughing. "You're an idiot, Davis! You're all white!" She wipes her hands with a cloth and tries to wipe some flour off my face. "Okay, you're still dirty but better than before."

We continue with our cookies. Helen works the dough a little with her hands, then has me roll it out with a rolling pin while she looks for the cookie cutters. We make them in the shape of flowers and hearts and place them on two baking sheets. Meanwhile, she hums Shawn Mendes' Lost In Japan. We put them in the oven and wait for them to cook.

As I listen to her singing in silence and watch her move to the rhythm of the music, I realize that her company is not bad at all. I don't hate her, I never could. I hate the fact that for my fault I'll never be able to have her. And she would never want to ruin her friendships for someone like me, for someone who used her best friend. God, I'm a mess.

She notices that I've been silent for a while, deep in my thoughts, so she takes my hand and turns around. "Everything good?"

I nod yes. "I was just thinking."

She tilts her head to one side and looks up at me. "What were you thinking about?" she asks, her blue eyes curious about her.

"Nothing," I reply, leaning against the counter.

She raises her eyebrows. "You just told me you were thinking, and you're not one who doesn't think about anything, am I wrong?"

I sigh and put my arms around her waist, I pull her closer to me, and she puts her hands on my shoulders. "You're not wrong."

"Then why don't you ever say what you think about?"

"It's better this way," I say dryly.

She lightly digs her nails into my flesh, visibly on purpose. "And if I wanted to know?"

Even if over the undershirt, when he tries to scratch me I feel that jolt. I suddenly take a breath. "You don't want to know."

"Mhm..." She takes my hands and puts them on her shoulders, making me draw the whole perfect outline of her body.

Shit, she's making me horny, I can feel my little friend under there.

She brings her face close to mine, I bend my neck towards her and our lips are very close, but before they can touch each other, the timer rings. What a shit timing.