Recover: Book 2 of the Magic Mutations Series | ✓

13: What Friends Are For

The bed was empty when I awoke, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtain. Yet despite my hand feeling cold without her, I could hear the clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen. I found it a little funny that I had moved here to escape my friends and be alone. But knowing Olivia was the source of the noise in my apartment... well that was even more peaceful than the sounds of silence.

With a smile on my face, I hopped out of bed and followed the clanging and banging.

"Morning," I greeted when I joined her in the kitchen, still blinking at the dawn of the new day. She had already showered and changed into a pair of light-wash denim jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Her copper hair was flying loose in all of its curly glory.

Olivia cocked an eyebrow at me before glancing over at the clock on the microwave then back to me. She responded with, "I suppose. Though it is already past ten."

"When did you get up?"

"Seven."

"Why?" I exclaimed.

"I don't know... guess my body clock still hasn't adjusted." She faced the pans again, turning the knobs of the cooker until the fire ignited.

Nodding, I took a seat on one of the barstools, glancing at the food she had splayed out. "When did you get this?"

"While you were still sleeping. I stole your keys so that I could get back in. Hope that's okay."

"Yeah, of course. How much was it? I'll give you the—"

Pausing in her whisking of the eggs, she turned to grimace at me. "I have some money, rich bitch."

"That is not becoming a nickname."

"I don't know," she paused to pour the contents of the bowl into the pan, "I kind of like it."

"I hate it."

"That's why I like it."

"I'll get you back for this..."

"Just you try." But when the small smirk slipped on her face as she stirred the eggs in the pan, I couldn't help but let her win. Is this what it was going to be like with her? Always letting her win just to see her smile?

"So... scrambled eggs?" I asked after too long passed—almost a whole thirty seconds—without me hearing her voice.

"Mhmm. Can you eat them?" she paused, glancing at me.

"Did you put milk in it?"

"I did..."

"Then no."

She frowned. "So what... you're a celiac and lactose intolerant?"

"Kind of, yeah." I avoided her questioning stare that followed my non-informative response.

"Also... why do you have so many pills in your pantry? What are they? There's no label."

My stomach dropped knowing she had seen them. "It's a supplement."

"What for?"

I pressed my lips and she paused again in her cooking, looking over at me as she waited for an answer. "Another time," I finally said.

"You say that a lot," she sighed, resuming stirring the eggs. "How about I fry two for you? And you can cook some of your bacon afterwards."

I cocked my head at her phrasing, but got up nonetheless to fetch the food from the fridge.

"I'd do it for you," she quickly added, answering the question that fluttered through my mind as I pulled out the bacon, "But then I might puke."

"Can't even touch meat?"