His Lovable Klutz (Completed)

Segment Twenty-one.

♥ Go Coby! Go Coby! Go Coby! ♥

      As the week wore on, the days seemed to stretch and blur together in a combination of routines and fleeting moments. Coby found herself settling into a rhythm, albeit a clumsy one. She attacked her daily cleaning tasks with the kind of energy one might reserve for a high-stakes game show, humming under her breath as she dusted, swept, and occasionally tripped over the vacuum cord.

      One afternoon, she stood in front of Stefan's bedroom door, the vacuum humming quietly beside her. Her hand hovered over the doorknob as she debated with herself. Should I? she thought, chewing on her lower lip. She could imagine the look on Stefan's face if he caught her in his room—probably something close to the expression one might make after biting into a lemon.

      "Yeah, no thanks," she muttered to herself, shaking her head vigorously. She had no desire to find out if her imagination was accurate. With that, she spun on her heel and made her way downstairs, deciding the kitchen was a much safer bet.

      Stefan had left early that morning, once again skipping breakfast. Coby was determined to change that. Today, she was going to prepare a meal so perfect, so mouthwateringly delicious, that Stefan would have no choice but to compliment her. She was on a mission to redeem herself from the salty Coq au Vin disaster.

      After much deliberation, Coby decided to go classic—good ol’ American comfort food. She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through recipe ideas.

      "Ooh, mac and cheese? Nah, too easy… Meatloaf? Eh, maybe later. Ah! Here we go!" Her eyes lit up as she found the perfect recipe: Chicken and Waffles. "Yes!" she snapped her fingers triumphantly, feeling like she had just struck culinary gold.

      Setting down her phone, Coby stretched her arms in front of her, cracking her knuckles like a boxer preparing for a fight. "Let the cooking begin! Alexa," she called out, "download and play me some rock music."

      The little virtual assistant chimed in, her voice smooth and polite. "Playing Eye of the Tiger by Survivor."

      As the iconic drumbeat kicked in, followed by the tension-filled guitar riffs, Coby felt a surge of adrenaline. This was it—the soundtrack to her culinary comeback.

      She moved with purpose, every step exaggerated as if she were starring in her own cooking show, which in her mind, she kind of was. The dramatic intro of the song seemed to stretch time itself, making everything feel like it was happening in slow motion.

      Coby grabbed a large mixing bowl with a flourish, tossing in flour, baking powder, sugar, and a pinch of salt. The electric whisk came to life in her hands, spinning the dry ingredients into a fluffy cloud. As she danced to the beat, she cracked eggs into the mixture with one hand, grinning at her own skill—though she had to quickly fish out a piece of eggshell that had decided to join the party.

      Next, she carefully measured out the buttermilk, pouring it into the bowl with a graceful twirl, as if she were performing in a ballet instead of cooking breakfast. A dash of vanilla extract, a drizzle of melted butter, and the batter was ready to go. She gave it a few more stirs, her hips swaying in time with the music.

      Now for the chicken. Coby pulled out a tray of boneless chicken thighs, her gaze steely with determination. She dipped each piece into seasoned flour, then into an egg wash, and back into the flour, creating a perfect coating. As the chorus of the song kicked in, she dropped the first piece into the hot oil, watching with satisfaction as it sizzled and bubbled to a crispy golden brown.