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Ch.4-Speech May Kill Us

When I walked back into the house, Alec was at the stove making macaroni.

It was the strangest, most random thing, and because of that I couldn’t help but stare openly in the doorway of the kitchen. He was just standing there, in jeans and a shirt, stirring the cheesy noodles around in a pot. It was much too innocent for somebody like him.

I crept into the kitchen, peering over his shoulder. His eyes were distant, hand moving in circular motions unconsciously. I crooked an eyebrow, sufficiently weirded out for the day. And to top that, the pot was nearly full.

“Hungry?” I questioned, making him jump back, whipping the spoon out and spraying me with hot cheese in the process.

“Jesus Christ!” he shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed in equal shock. “What am I doing? You probably just burned my skin, you idiot!” I shoved him out of the way and hurried toward the sink, thrusting my arm under the cold spray of water.

“Did you not see I was making macaroni? What normal person sneaks up on somebody making macaroni?”

I pressed a towel to my arm and skewered him with a scathing glare. “We are not getting off on the right foot here, Alec.”

He snorted. “No, really? And here I thought we were BFFs.”

I nearly grabbed the pot and dumped the noodles over his head. He made it literally impossible to have a decent conversation with him. I knew I could be difficult when I wanted to be, but even when I actually tried to connect with the guy he shot me down, shut me out, and pinned me with a dozen insults to go with it. “Just finish your stupid macaroni.”

Sensing it was probably the wise thing to do, he turned back to the pot and continued stirring. I threw the towel back on the sink, a fine red mark stretching across my forearm. I sighed. At least it wasn’t blistering or bubbling.

“Where did Grandpa go?” I asked him, opening the fridge to retrieve bottle of chocolate milk. I smiled. I had an obsession with the beverage, and to see that my grandfather clearly had knowledge of this and no doubt didn’t keep twenty bottles for himself made me happy. I sat down at the table and threw back a mouthful.

“Out,” Alec replied shortly, turning off the burner and reaching into the cabinet to grab a bowl.

“Uh-huh. Yes, I could have guessed that. Any idea where?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand how it is you can be so helpful.”

He was angled to me slightly for half a second, but it was enough for me to catch the smirk twisting his lips. “It comes naturally.”

“How unfortunate.”

He shrugged one shoulder. I sipped my chocolate milk in silence as I watched him move fluidly around the kitchen. He didn’t make a sound, which was cool and weird at the same time. He moved like a shadow, though you would never have a problem seeing him in the dark because his skin was pale as pale can be. Milky white. He grabbed his bowl with the spoon stuck deep inside, sat himself on the far end of the table, and chowed down.

I just watched him, hunched over that bowl, shoveling macaroni into his mouth. Too normal.

And why did that bother me?

“It’s rude to eat with your elbows on the table, you know.”

His icy eyes snapped up to mine, the spoon posed between his lips. I had never met anybody with such an intense stare, but I forced myself to hold it, however difficult it seemed. When he finally removed the spoon and swallowed the mouthful of noodles, he spoke. “And I live to please you, right?”