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********************************************** Amber's ballet flats clattered on the white marble floor as she entered the kitchen. Her sense of wakefulness was heightened by the stark red tiling and off-white appliances.
Approaching the sink, she switched on the faucet then pushed the integrated soap dispenser and emulsified. The warmed bubbles nearly ran down her wrists as she worked her hands beneath the heated water; the sensation made her skin crawl.
Finally, she reached into a high cabinet near the stove and retrieved a clear bowl, then strolled to the fridge to pull out shredded cheese, milk, and a handful of eggs, before shutting the door with her hip while acquiring a whisk and tossing it into the bowl, along with a white cutting board between her fingers secured by her tight grip on the bowl by her palm.
Once settled, she carelessly smashed two eggs together and let the spotless yolk drop into the dish, with two more following and then some milk, before whisking the sunny center. She then turned around to switch the knob on the stove to high heat, then kneeled to retrieve a silver pan with a blue handle from the lower cupboard. She rose to extract olive oil to immerse the pan in.
Then, thanks to the high setting, poured the eggs into the hot skillet, which brought to mind the way her mother tirelessly reprimanded her for choosing the highest temperature; she argued that it sped up the process and Amber maintained her proud stance on that.
"Morning, Bambi," Her father greeted, entering the kitchen wearing a light grey button-up, with matching loafers, and black slacks, "That smells good." He complimented.
The corners of her mouth quirked up, tipping her head appreciatively, "Thanks, Dad."
She retrieved a black spatula to begin pushing and swirling the yolk, where she recalled the first time she prepared breakfast; how terrified she was of cracking the shells, but now, she could simply glance at an egg and it would split perfectly down the middle.
He approached and planted a kiss on her cheek, just as a horn honked outside and shock crossed her face hearing the car, while Lawrence only smiled as he stepped away.
"Is that Buddy?"
"Yeah!" She blurted out, nodding while avoiding his gaze.
With a wave of relief washing over him, he nodded proudly, "It's nice to see you branching out instead of just staying in your room alone."
She shrugged and grinned, "And I do love just staying in my room alone."
They shared a gentle laugh, then Lawrence huffed joyfully over the notion that his daughter had not only finally found her place at Rydell High and a steadfast group with the Socs, but now someone as beloved as Buddy Aldridge to settle down with.
He could not have been more mistaken, though.
The horn outside belonged to Gil's car, which he used to haul about the members of not only his gang, but Amber's own, with whom she caused mischief with following the Soc party the previous night by breaking into Rydell after hours with her barrette just like Richie taught her, to vandalize the blue Vote for Fred: the good guy! posterswith "Vote Pink!"
