Nerds Are Lovable

17: Nerds Are Yellers

"You," My dad looks surprised, "Are going to bake a cake?"

"Dad, don't make this worse than it already is."

"It's already worse. You came home at a decent time for a Friday night and now you're baking a, chocolate sprinkles cake?"

I nod at him, turning back to the open recipe book on the counter, "I know, the world is ending."

"Can I at least bake with you so it's not as weird?"

I turn back to him with a glare, but don't say anything as he grabs an apron and walks up to me. He looks at the recipe book with me and starts grabbing the necessary ingredients. It's probably a good thing he came to help, I'm not exactly the best baker. And anyway he was right, me baking alone was cause for the apocalypse.

When I'd gotten home last night my dad had already gone to his room for the night, but he walked out when he heard the front door. He hadn't asked many questions, already knowing where I was since I'd texted him to eat without me. My one rule, more like a promise, was to always text my dad if I wouldn't be home for dinner. It used to be our family meal when it was the three of us. That all fell apart when mom died, dad got depressed, and I turned rebellious. Family wasn't really something we identified as for a while. Until finally, we realized to move on, we had to accept she was gone and keep her memory alive. She loved family dinners, my mom. And so, my dad and I told each other that we would always be there for dinner. We'd gotten better since then, we'd grown closer.

"One chocolate sprinkles cake, done!" My dad smiles proudly at the cake he'd just finished frosting.

Apparently, I wasn't trusted enough with a knife or with sprinkles to get a go at decorating the cake. Dad had taken the sprinkles away from me before I could dump them all over the cake. That wasn't proper form according to him. Although I've never heard of a proper way to sprinkle sprinkles, I let him do it because if there actually is a proper way, this is the cake to do it on.

"We should do this more often, we killed it."

"Haley, I bake every weekend. You're the one that doesn't join in."

I shrug, grabbing the box for the cake, "No need to get defensive."

He rolls his eyes and helps me lift the cake into a box, "I'm the defensive one?"

"Yes," I smirk at him, aware that I'm the hard ass between the two of us.

"Where's the cake going?"

"Bella," And then I add, remembering that dad doesn't know who she is, "Jayden's sister."

"Jayden's sister, huh? Does Jayden know you're going?" He raises his eyebrows to me.

"This is why I'm defensive," I tell him, walking off to my room to change.

After putting something on that wasn't my chocolate covered pajamas, I walk back to the kitchen where my dad is putting up the last of the bowls we used. He turns when he hears me coming, a small glare in his eyes.

"I see you still don't clean up after yourself."

"Part of my undeniable charm."

"Hey," Dad calls to me before I can walk out of the kitchen again, with the cake this time, "Thanksgiving is next week, maybe invite some friends."

I nod, "You know Emma loves it here for Thanksgiving."

"Plural, Haley," My dad calls after me as I walk off, "Friends."

Thanksgiving was always a favorite at the Jones household. My dad had some secret family stuffing recipe that made everyone forget about the turkey. My mom, when she was still with us, would make the turkey with her family recipe that always put up a good fight against the stuffing. I was always in charge of the mashed potatoes, since the most complicated step involved was mashing said potatoes. It was a big family ordeal that ended with us gaining ten pounds. Emma always liked to join in the festivities since, as she explains, our food doesn't taste burnt or like old people.