Dancing In His Storm [BxB] √

24.8: Dancing into the Storm

AUGUST

The chicken was surprisingly tasty good. It's not entirely the best if we are going to talk about master chef taste level, but it's definitely good than most of the chicken stew that I've tasted in my entire life. The only best tasting chicken stew that I know was the one that my grandmother makes and it kind of made me miss her so much. I guess the reason why the stew tasted good than what we initially thought of it was mostly because we followed the instructions as thoroughly as possible. We didn't add some bullshit tips and tricks shenanigans that, for sure wouldn't work during our first time cooking this.

I volunteered to help Ambrose prepare and set up everything but he insisted that he must do all of the quote unquote wife job in a kind of comedic way that I was just left speechless. I was laughing under my breath and ultimately letting Ambrose do all the job because you know, he's playing the material house-wife thingy. He prepared all of the plates and stuff on the dining table and by the time he was finished we were already devouring the food that we had been patiently waiting for over an hour.

I was thinking about this likely logic that the chicken stew only tasted this delightfully good purely because of the fact that I'm famished enough that my taste buds are losing its taste level. I know I'm famished enough that anyone could've given me a burnt hotdog or a burger with no mayo and no ketchup or whatever food from Mary Heights High cafeteria and I would still say it's so good. But no, the truth was the chicken stew was really that good. The chicken was cooked very tenderly and the condiments made it even more tastier much to my liking. In a way, I was glad that I didn't ask Ambrose to rush the process just because I'm dying in hunger.

"Jesus H. Christ!" I blurted out in absolute delight. "This was really fucking good." I let out and I may have sounded a little bit too much but I can't help myself. The taste of perfectly baked chicken was just massaging my taste buds in the most satisfying munch. I have already shoved a lot of spoonful into my mouth since the stew was prepared right in front of me and I'm just savoring the moment.

"You think I'm ready to become a house-wife?" Ambrose teased giving me this funny grin that I don't know if he's being serious about the matter or if he's just playing with me.

"Nah, I don't think so." I replied partly just to fuck with him. "Do you know how to do the laundry?"

"Of course I do." Ambrose rebutted almost immediately and his tone was gritting with so much confidence that I had to step back a bit. "How do you think I'm getting all of my clean clothes when I'm living alone for the past two years." He continued and I just remembered the fact the he's literally living alone and that meant he's doing all of the chores himself. My heart just smiled for a moment and it made me adore Ambrose even more yet I kept that feeling all to myself.

"Okay, that's fair enough." I hashed out instantly realizing what he just spat out was in fact the truth. Even if they have a wash and dry machine he'd still have to do everything himself. "But do you know how to cook?" I spat back thinking that this might catch him in headlights.

For a moment, I thought Ambrose was actually caught in headlights and I was winning this teasing battle. He was speechless for a while but it turns out he was just planning his next move. He scooped at spoonful of stew and then looked at me in the eye.

"How about you try this?" He asked as he tried to feed me as if I'm a two-year-old toddler who can't grab a spoon with his tiny little hands.

"I can definitely feed my own self." I replied in my own attempt to shut down his plan.

"I wasn't asking." He trailed giving me a serious stare while still holding the spoon right in front of my mouth. I looked at him and his eyes were intricately magnetizing and I'm being drawn to it the more I stare.