The Gallagher twins

~• 14 •~

When we arrived we didn't do anything exciting. We took our bags out of the car. In fact, Hannah forced Ryan to carry hers. Really, if you didn't know them and saw them they looked like friends, not an ex-couple. It kind of made sense, since they weren't a couple couple. Well, I shouldn't care.

After inspecting the cabin and realising that it was a marvellous place, Aidan offered to cook dinner.

—I didn't know you cooked, Gallagher.

—Well, now you do —a flirtatious smirk left his lips. He was getting out the pots and ladle he was going to use—. I'll make you some pasta.

—What kind of pasta?

—Penne.

I couldn't help but deflate with laughter. Aidan didn't understand, and I didn't explain it to him either. He just looked at me with a serious face. I think he felt like hitting me over the head with the pan. I sat down on one of the stools, expectantly. Suddenly, Ryan and Hannah appeared.

—Well, well, what are you doing?

Aidan didn't answer his brother, but instead boiled water. He looked like a professional chef and everything. They took the opportunity to sit down. I was in the middle of the redhead and the green-eyed boy. What a good time to fall off the bench. Aidan cut an onion in half and cut it into squares.

—What's your favourite genre of music, ___? —asked Hannah neatly.

—I think it's pop, but sometimes I listen to salsa.

Aidan poured the boiling water over the pot of pasta. Hannah raised her eyebrows.

—Salsa? Isn't it a kind of dance?

—Isn't it a garnish? —I don't think I need to clarify that one was Ryan.

—Yes, it is too. In my case, I like listening to it more than dancing it.

—It's very rare to meet someone who likes it... In fact, I didn't even know it was a type of music —she laughed lightly.

—Now you do —I mumbled, mimicking Aidan a little. He just gave me a look that brought out his green eyes that much more.

I chatted a bit more with Hannah, but I didn't really listen to her carefully. Many times my gaze strayed to our chef, Aidan with a knife, Aidan with olive oil in his hand, Aidan opening and uncovering pots. Aidan, Aidan, Aidan.

—Fuck, there's no more pasta —he grunted.

—And what does that affect?

—A person won't eat.

—I don't see the problem yet.

—You'll see it when you're the one starving.

That's fucked up. The twenty-four hour tents were outside the resort. No one got up. Aidan grimaced.

—I'm going.

An exhale of relief.

—Good thing, because I didn't want to go.

An expression of dissatisfaction.

—Who says you're not going? At least go with her.

—Fuck you, Aidan.

[...]

—Do you really know how to drive? —he asked me for the twentieth time with the same surprised tone as the first.

—Yes, Ryan. How little faith you have in me. The first thing I did when I turned sixteen was get my driving licence.

What I didn't tell Ryan was that I had to retake the test three times. If I had told him, he'd probably run off and it wouldn't have been so much fun to go buy pasta by myself. But, you know, if we crashed it was his fault.