Spellbound

Part 6

Lera

It's been just over a week since the whole... shed incident, and I haven't told anyone what happened. I mean, what is there to tell anyway? Of course, Kat asked me about what happened why I took so long to get the chairs. I simply explained that Christian had come to 'help', and locked the door by accident. I mean, I could've told her that he was... nice? but I was already too embarrassed about being 'alone' with him for so long. Oh, and the fact that I came out still wearing his sweatshirt. 

Kat noticed straight away that it wasn't mine, but when I tried to give it back to Christian, he only shook his head, winked and told me it looked better as mine. 

If it wasn't such a cozy sweatshirt I would've thrown it back in his face.

But again, it meant nothing. So no one needed to know. That would just cause unnecessary awkwardness for me. Awkwardness I couldn't back up with evidence, because why should I feel awkward around him if I have no emotional feelings towards him. At all.

Anyway, I'd tried to keep my communication with Christian at a minimum. Again, the awkwardness factor. But alas, it couldn't be avoided tonight, however well I tried.

The dinner rule. 

Our parents had made the rule that each night, 2 different people would cook, in order to share the workload. We even had a roster and everything. An unchangeable roster. One of which I couldn't get out of. Even if that meant cooking with the one person I was avoiding. 

Tonight, I was cooking, with Christian. And I was dreading it.

Call the fucking funeral home. 

...

At precisely 5:17 pm, I sauntered into the kitchen. Christian was wearing a green and white striped apron, leaning, arms folded against his chest, on the sage green and beige colored cabinetry, a playful look on his face.

"Finally, you're here," he says, looking me up and down his his dark eyes. The thought of him watching me made me shiver, his stare dominant.

"Oh, sorry, did I keep you waiting?" I replied, the sarcasm rolling off my tongue.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I've been waiting here for," he aggressively flips his wrist to check his watch, "7 whole minutes. 7 whole minutes of my life have been wasted."

I roll my eyes at his dramatics.

"Well, in that case, I should have taken longer." I say, as I walk over a tall cupboard to grab an apron. Putting it on, I manage to tie the waist knot, before realizing the tie at my neck is too big, making the apron gape down to almost my stomach. I fiddle with the knot, but it's been tied too tightly. 

"Are you right over there? Hurry up, we need to start!" Christian yells from the other end of the kitchen.

"I'm coming! I just can't get this knot undone." I say back.

I hear a deep laugh escape his lips, before the soft sounds of his feet become to edge closer to me. Shit.

"I'm fine, I don't need help, I'll be there in a second." I add, mentally willing him to stay where he is. The last thing I need is for him to come over here and help me. Awkwardness level: sky high.

He doesn't reply, and his footsteps begin to fade. Where is he? Maybe he did leave after all. 

Suddenly though, I'm frightened by a hand brushing over mine, which is still fiddling with the knot. 

"Let go," he says, although his voice makes it seem more like a demand. 

My hand's fall from the knot, and I wipe them against the front of my apron.