𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝

Chapter Twenty-Four

N O A H

I was just about to start dinner when Bellamy came stumbling in. For a second I thought she was drunk, but in this case, she was just clumsy.

"Hey," I said softly, watching her as she threw her keys on the table and brushed her hair out of her face.

Her hair looked unruly, just like every other day, but I could stare at it for hours.

"Hi," she replied, a little red covering her cheeks, accompanying the freckles on her nose that I hadn't seen before.

She looked even prettier after a day in the sun. Though I thought she had to work? Not that I had memorized her schedule or anything.

"Where's Isaac?" she asked, breaking the tension in the room, and I moved my gaze to her eyes.

"He has a work thing, he said he'll be home late."

She looked disappointed, chewing on her lower lip.

She really got to stop doing that.

"What's wrong?" I asked, grabbing the ingredients for dinner from the fridge, preventing me from giving her a hug or something.

She sighed, plopping on a chair at the table. "Nothing major. I just haven't seen him all day. And now he'll be gone all night."

I looked at the chicken in my hand and decided to offer something I would most likely regret. And not because I thought she couldn't do it.

"Do you want to cook with me?"

She looked up, her beautiful blue eyes shimmering with something I couldn't describe, and nodded.

"But I'll have to warn you," she said, rising from her seat and walking up to me. "I'm the worst cook you'll ever meet."

I chuckled, highly doubting that there was anything she couldn't do. "I'll teach you."

She nodded, looking around the kitchen as if she'd never seen one before, and I loved the way she awkwardly stood there, waiting for instructions.

"I'm really bad at this," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck as she looked up to me through her lashes.

"It's alright," I comforted her, walking up to the oven. "I'm going to preheat the oven, and I've already let the chicken marinate all day, so we're good to go."

I tried to ignore the look on her face, the surprise and admiration in her eyes making me feel all kinds of things.

"So now what?"

"We're going to bread the chicken."

I set everything up and explained to her what needed to be done, before she went to work.

Keeping an eye on her as she rolled the chicken breasts in the breadcrumbs, I prepared the pasta, trying to keep myself from smiling.

"Am I doing this right?" she asked, and I had to refrain from giving her a snarky comeback. Breading chicken was no rocket science, but I would honestly help her brush her teeth if I had to.

Jesus, I sound like a love-sick teenager.

I took a look, nodding. "You're doing fine."

She stared up at me, a little crumb mixture sitting on her cheek. "I am? Who knew?"

Shit, now I had to come closer.

I brought my thumb to her face, rubbing away the crumbs and feeling her hot skin under my finger.