Friendly Dating - Kira

Chapter 35 - Making Fudge

"Put sugar, margarine, syrup and water into a large, heavy base saucepan," Ethan reads from the recipe. I already know that step, so my saucepan is ready, and I'm measuring six cups of sugar into the pot. I'm about to add 250 ml water when he sees me and jumps from the chair; he was straddling back to front to try and stop me.

"Whoa! Chick! I said 750ml sugar and 125ml water; what are you doing?"

"Dude, go sit down," I order, cutting 250g off the block of margarine and popping it into the pot with the water and sugar. "I know what I'm doing; I've done this so often, I could do this in my sleep. I have an army to make fudge for, and I'm not going to make two batches separately; it will be too exhausting. I'm making double."

"Please don't make fudge in your sleep, Kicks," he scoffs. "You're a bit of a klutz when you're awake; imagine what you'll be like when you're asleep."

"Why are you here?" I ask him the question I'm pretty sure I've asked him before... many times. Instead of going home after our swim, he stayed and nagged me so much that I decided to just make the fudge and get it over with.

"I'm helping you make fudge."

"You keep on saying that, but you're not helping; you're hindering." He really is. He keeps on taking my measuring spoons to steal ice cream from the tub in the freezer. I don't know why he doesn't just grab a bowl and a spoon and have some properly. When I suggested it, he said it's more fun this way. At some point, he discovered an old medicine spoon in the drawer and took the entire tub of peanut, honeycomb, and chocolate delight from the freezer to eat some using that spoon.

"Do you think this qualifies as medicine if I eat it using this spoon?" he wanted to know, and he expected a serious answer!

"As your boyfriend, that's my job," he says now in a logical voice, and he probably thinks he is being logical.

"Hindering, is a boyfriend's job?"

"Isn't it?"

Laughing, I push him back to his chair. He is standing way too close to me, and it is making me feel slightly anxious. I don't normally feel anxious when I'm with Ethan unless he is aiming rubber bands at me or picking me up to throw me off the bridge or climbing a high tree to put a baby bird back in its nest, or crawling into a drain to take out the babies a mother cat left in there and then disappeared or...

Huh! I guess I get anxious around Ethan a lot more often than I thought I did.

"Sit. Stay," I order, navigating him to his chair and pushing him down on it. He goes willingly, straddling it again, cowboy style. "Good boy," I pat his head and grabbing my hand, he glares at me.

"I swear I'm gonna bite you!" he growls, and I flinch when he pulls my hand to his mouth, but my startled reflex turns into a shiver when he gently runs his lips over my fingers before letting me go.

"Heat gently until the sugar is dissolved," he takes up reading the recipe to me again, his voice sounding a little strange right now. Though I knew what the next step was supposed to be, I'm glad he read it, because I've fallen into some kind of trance and am just staring at the pot on the stove. Hearing his voice jolts me back to life, and I turn on the plate under the pot.

"Wow! That spoon is bigger than you, Kicks," Ethan chuckles when I take a huge serving spoon from the drawer next to the stove and place it on the counter, ready for use.

"It has to have a long handle, Ethy; if it doesn't, the boiling sugar splatters onto my fingers and gives me blisters, and then I'm in hell for the rest of the time, struggling to keep the burned areas covered with a dish towel."