Flowers and Pop Rocks

26

p o p p y

Up until two months ago, my Fridays consisted of school until three, a little snack after that, and binge watching shows until midnight. Or walking around at a party my cousin dragged me to.

Now, I was spending my Friday at Blake's house, trying to make pasta without burning the whole house down.

He invited me over because he said he wanted to cook for me. I didn't know what got into him, but I was convinced it was him believing that lie I made up about my crush on Gordon Ramsay.

"Okay, and then just sprinkle some flour on the counter too," he demonstrated.

I followed suit, taking some flour in my hands and putting it on the surface in front of me. "Hey, look, I'm doing great."

"And now, do this," he grinned before clapping. It created a flour cloud, covering my hair and a good amount of my surroundings with the white powder and making me shriek.

"You didn't just do that," I glared at him, trying to dust off the flour from my clothes.

He laughed, slowly backing away. He knew I was gonna get my revenge.

"Come here," I chased him around the counter. "Stop running!"

I caught up to him eventually. I think he was starting to feel bad that I still couldn't catch him so he slowed down.

"Ha!" I put my hands on his cheeks, making them white with the leftover flour on my hands.

He leaned on the counter, an amused look on his face as he watched me laugh at the sight before me.

I was about to comment on how all that flour was going to be so hard to clean up, but he lunged at me before I could say anything, burying his face in my neck, surely putting more flour on me.

His hair tickled a little, making me laugh. "Okay, okay, stop. I'm basically fully covered in flour."

We got back to work and eventually ended up with a decent bowl of pasta. Credits to Blake for doing most of the work.

"What happened here?"

Oh no.

"Mom!"

Great, time for that second first impression I so desperately hoped would be good.

"Blake, I'm only going to repeat this once. What happened here?" she questioned, eying me before turning to Blake. "And who's this?"

"This is my friend, Poppy," he introduced me. "We were just making some pasta. Want some?"

She didn't look too amused. This was definitely not the impression I wanted to make.

"No thank you. I just want to know why my kitchen is such a mess."

"Just had a little flour mishap," Blake acknowledged. "Don't worry, I'll clean it up."

"You better," she chastised before walking out of the kitchen.

"Uh, let me help you," I stood up, reaching for the broom already in his hand.

He shook his head. "It's okay. I can clean it up, you just eat."

I debated on whether I should persist. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry," he smiled.

"Okay, but if you need help, just tell me," I instructed.

It totally slipped my mind just how organized Blake was. If I hadn't watched him clean everything up, I really wouldn't have remembered.

"This was the worst second first impression ever," I frowned, stuffing pasta into my mouth as I watched him.