24 | 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞

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"Did you tell Landon?" I ask Carter as he grabs out tomato paste and tomato's from the fridge.

We now sit in his apartment and he insisted that he'd make spaghetti. I hid my books under my hoodie on his couch, hoping he'll forget about them.

He grabs a large knife and starts chopping the tomato's, "kind of."

"Kind of? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I told him but I can't say anything about the conversation," he says.

"What? Why?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Bro code, honey," Carter says as he grabs a handful of the chopped tomato's and puts them into a pot where he's making the sauce.

"Bro code? Seriously? Are you guys twelve?" I tease.

His blue eyes look at me, a flash of hurt in them. "Hey. Leave the bro code alone."

I roll my eyes, "Carter, what did he say?"

"I can't tell you."

I groan, "Come on! He's my friend too."

He washes his hands in the sink and looks at me, "I can tell you his reaction but I won't tell you what he said."

I sigh. If that's all I'm gonna get out of him then I'm not going to push it, "fine."

"He was actually very chill about it," Carter says as he crosses his arms, "He just kinda looked at me and didn't say much."

Really?

"But I thought he liked Audrey," I say, confused.

Carter shrugs, "guess not that much."

"Huh," I huff. "Well I guess that's out of the way then?"

He nods.

"Why don't you come cook the noodles for me," he asks.

I freeze. I can't cook. One time I tried back at home and my mother was furious when she found our oven completely burnt. It was a costly dent to her bank account.

And I was grounded for an entire month. Worst mistake I ever made junior year.

"I don't know," I say hesitantly.

Carter strides over to me and grabs my hands, pulling me up from my seat.

"Baby, you've gotta learn at some point. Might as well try now."

I feel nervousness consume my body when he hands me a big spoon that has a claw on the end and the box of pasta.

"What's wrong?" He asks me, his tone is soft and caring.

"It's just, I can't cook. At all," I confess. I feel so stupid telling him this in all honestly. Doesn't everyone know how to cook?

"It's not that hard, we're actually starting with the basics."

"How do you know how to cook so well?" I ask.

A small smile forms on his lips, "I lived with my grandparents for a few years in high school."

My eyebrows shoot up, "your grandparents are still alive?"

He chuckles, "yes. In their mid sixties now but still going."

I can't help but smile because that's actually adorable.

"Why'd you live with your grandparents?" I ask as he pours the box of spaghetti into the pot of water.

An expression I haven't recognized on his beautiful face before takes form. He seems so... hurt.

"There was some conflict with Charlotte and myself. I didn't want to live there anymore," he says.

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