Emotion || Bastian Schweinsteiger

/sechzehn/

Zofía's Point of View 

"This is harder than heart surgery." I mumble to myself, grasping onto the shopping cart, staring at the array of bright colored vegetables and fruits.

I glance down at the cart and the items placed in it.
Chicken breast, pasta, tomatoes, a block of mozzarella, a small cheesecake and a pack of white chocolate macadamia cookies, for my own benefit. 

It was one of those few rare days, which I had off, and Bastian was going to come over for dinner.

Except... I burn everything that I touch in the kitchen. I set grilled cheese on fire once, but I've had enough practice. Nikolai, on the other hand, thinks that I'm a horrible cook, who poisons everything. 

Tonight's menu consists of chicken Parmesan and pasta, and wine and cheesecake for dessert. But the problem is trying to cook it.

This is a step up from the usual cold pizza and beer that I have on a daily basis. 

I take a glance at the digital watch, that is wrapped around my wrist, as I read the time.

12:13 pm

I let out a huff, taking one last glance at the cart, deciding that I have everything I need to make the blond haired German dinner.

**********************************************************************

"Motherfucker!" I curse out loud, cradling my right hand with the other, as I hiss in pain, glaring at the sliver pot, bubbling with tomato sauce. 

Bastian is due here in twenty minutes, and I've only been able to prep the pasta and bread the chicken. 

"Stop being a damn bitch."I grumble, staring at the tomato sauce, as I run my hand under cold water. 

This is why I eat take out and make Roslin cook for me.

I'm snapped out of my angry trance by the buzz of the doorman. 

"Shit." I run over to the intercom, pressing down on the answer button, which I have labeled in English. 

"Ja?" I breathe out. 

"Fräulein, Herr Schweinsteiger ist hier." I quickly try to translate what he's saying, surprisingly understanding it completely. 

"Ja, er kann kommen. Danke." I reply, letting go of the button. I end up realizing I'm clad in a pair of grey sweats and a Marvel Superheroes t-shirt, that is stained with flour and tomato sauce. 

Without thinking, I breeze into my room, nearly colliding with my bed, as I sharply make a right, barging into my walk-in closet. I pull the shirt over my head, dropping it on the floor, as I grab the closest t-shirt I could find. A simple white t-shirt. I pull down my sweats and grab a pair of denim shorts sitting on the middle rack, and I quickly attempt to pull them on, but I'm startled by what comes next. 

"Why don't you lose the shorts, you look better without them." 

"Oh shit!" I turn around, to find Bastian standing in front of me, sporting a cheeky smirk, as he eyes me up and down.

"Do you not know how to knock?" I grumble, as I button up my shorts. 

"Well, Kätzchen, you shouldn't leave your door unlocked." 

Sighing, I step up to him, as he pulls me into his arms, embracing me tightly. 

"I hope you're not hungry, because the food isn't done. It probably won't ever be done."