30 Days Too Late

Our Cafe

Rudy

I add the 3 tablespoons of butter and vanilla extract. "Now for the flour, be careful because—"

Flour suddenly bursts into the air, covering us both. I stand still for a moment. "You have to treat it like a baby, or it'll explode," I finish, sighing. His face contorts, and he starts to giggle.

"This wasn't my fault," he says, laughing harder.

"You squeezed it like a football," I grumble.

Dexter's laughter quickly turns into coughing, thick and strained. "Dex," I whisper, rubbing his back.

"I need a second," he struggles to say, heading toward the bathroom. I chew on my lip, watching as he uses the wall for support. His coughing grows louder once he's inside, echoing through the house. Each cough sounds harsher than the last, and I can hear him gasping for breath.

The door opens and I return to wiping my face with a cloth.  "Okay I'm good," he chuckles, limping back to me. I still him and begin cleaning his face with my cloth.

"What's next?" he asks.

"We need to roll out the dough and then cut it into squares," I say, grabbing the rolling pin. "Only the strongest can roll this out properly," I add, tapping my chin. "And that would be me," I prepare to start rolling.

"You're teaching me, so I don't mind watching," he says, standing close by.

He positions himself behind me and wares his arms around my waist. I'm growing nervous from his touch. "You're turning red," he whispers in my ear. I exhale and keep rolling until his gentle breaths on my neck make me look up. My lips part and he captures my mouth in a deep kiss.

I feel his hands move up to my shoulders, pulling me closer. The warmth of his body pressed against mine sends a shiver down my spine. I drop the rolling pin and turn around to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes. He reaches around and rolls to the dough out within five seconds. "I made it easier for you," I whisper.

"Yeah okay," he replies, cutting squares. 

I massage his chest he lays gentle pecks on my lips. "Rudy, what should we name our cafe?" he asks.

"Hmm... It should be something meaningful to us," I reply.

"You're nickname Rue. Rue's Cafe," he decides.

"What about your name?" I ask.

"Your name is better, I want it to be in your name," he says.

"Rue's Cafe does have a nice ring to it," I snicker. His brows knit together, and the rest of his face hardens, his eyes clouding over in thought.

"Are you feeling, okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine, Rudy," he says with attitude.

"You can tell me anything," I reassure him. He swallows and backs away, taking me with him.

"My family is looking for me, they've sent people, Rudy. You haven't told anyone I'm here, right?" his voice cracks.

"No Dexter, you have nothing to worry about. No reporters, no family, no friends. I haven't told a soul," I swear. He massages the back of my nape as he caresses my cheek with his other hand. "I won't sell you out like Valkryie."

He hums in thought, his eyes drifting away from mine, staring at the wall. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug to get his attention, but he remains distant. I massage the back of his head and sigh. What can I do when he gets like this?