Ink & Intentions (Lingorm)

4. Boundaries Blurred?

Ling could hear the sound of the electric mixer from down the hall, the sharp whirl cutting through the relative silence of the apartment. She sighed, glancing at the clock on her laptop—it was almost 10 p.m., and she'd hoped the kitchen would be quiet so she could make tea and finally unwind.

Pushing away from her desk, Ling padded to the kitchen, expecting Orm to be halfway through some snack experiment. But instead, she found her roommate's latest project sprawling across the counter. Bowls and containers were scattered everywhere, with flour dusting the countertops like a powdered crime scene. Orm was in the middle of it all, earbuds in and oblivious as she focused on a bowl, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Orm." Ling's voice came out sharper than intended, but she was too tired to soften it.

Orm jumped, yanking out one of her earbuds. "Oh! Ling! I didn't see you there." She grinned, unbothered. "You're just in time to taste-test my lemon cake batter."

Ling pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's 10 p.m. Some of us actually have to get up early."

Orm waved her off, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Relax, it'll be done soon. Besides, the oven will handle the rest." She dipped her finger in the batter and held it out, a playful look in her eyes. "Come on, don't be so uptight. Live a little."

Ling gave her a flat stare. "No, thanks. I'd rather not get salmonella tonight."

Orm shrugged, popping the batter-covered finger in her mouth. "Your loss."

Ling rolled her eyes, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. "You know, you could've at least cleaned up as you went. It looks like a tornado came through here."

"Oh, please. Baking is an art form," Orm replied, scooping up another spoonful of batter. "And art's supposed to be messy. Besides, isn't law supposed to be all about evidence and order? Consider this 'exhibit A.'"

Ling crossed her arms. "Maybe, but I don't need 'exhibit A' taking over the only counter space we have."

Orm sighed dramatically, setting down her bowl. "Fine, fine. I'll clean up. But you might find a slice of lemon cake waiting for you in the morning."

Ling narrowed her eyes but couldn't entirely ignore the mouthwatering smell of citrus and sugar in the air. "If there is, just don't expect me to thank you."

Orm smirked. "Challenge accepted."

Turning back to her project, Orm kept her eyes on the mixing bowl but added casually, "By the way, Prikhing and Ying are coming over tomorrow. Just so you're aware."

Ling felt a flash of irritation at the casual announcement. "This is the third time this week you've had people over. Are we turning this place into a café now?"

Orm looked at her, eyebrows raised. "They're my friends, Ling. And it's not like we're taking over the whole apartment."

"It's not about that," Ling replied, fighting to keep her voice calm. "But you're not exactly considerate of how much noise you make."

Orm tilted her head, looking slightly taken aback. "Are you serious? You've got Tan and Bow over all the time too, but I'm not complaining."

Ling's cheeks flushed slightly. "That's different. We're usually studying. Not... whatever this is." She gestured vaguely to the kitchen, the batter, the chaotic scene.

"Look, if I want to bake at night, I'm going to bake," Orm replied, crossing her arms in a mirror of Ling's stance. "Maybe you're just too used to things being your way."

Ling set her glass down, her gaze steady. "Or maybe you just don't understand boundaries."

Orm rolled her eyes, turning back to her bowl. "Well, maybe if you relaxed once in a while, you'd actually enjoy things around here."

Ling felt a retort on her tongue but paused, biting it back. She didn't want to give Orm the satisfaction of an argument. Instead, she let out a sigh and said, "Fine. Just keep it down."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the kitchen, hoping to salvage what was left of her evening. But as she closed her bedroom door behind her, she realized that the low hum of Orm's voice—soft, like she was humming to herself—still drifted through the apartment.

The next morning, Ling woke up to the faint aroma of lemon cake, the scent lingering like a gentle reminder of last night's argument. She padded to the kitchen and found a slice waiting on a small plate, a sticky note beside it: I told you so. Enjoy. A cartoon smiley face winked from the corner of the note.

Ling rolled her eyes, but as she took a tentative bite, a small smile tugged at her lips.