English Accent (The Accents #1)

Sneeze sneeze sneeze

I watched, horrified, as Dominic brought a hand up to his face and bringing a little bit of stuffing from his cheek onto his finger, he put it into his mouth.

"I'd add a little bit more salt." He said, looking down at me.

I nodded, knowing I wasn't going to put any more salt in it anyway.

"I didn't expect to see you here today." He stepped back and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets.

Oh, so he didn't try to kiss me. Well, that was a good sign. Let's just hope now that he wasn't just waiting for me to kiss him first. Because if that was the case, he was going to wait forever.

"Why?" I asked, turning back to the bowl and assessing the stuffing once more just to take my mind away from the topic.

"Well, it's your birthday." He stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I expected you to be out and partying."

I glanced at him over my shoulder, raising a brow.

"Because Abi and partying in one sentence is something completely normal and understandable."

He smirked, one side of his lips tipping higher than the other. And revealing a dimple. Damn.

"I don't know. Maybe in this one day of the year you transform into a wild tigress and hit the dance floor."

I snorted.

"Don't hope for much. I hate my birthday."

I wasn't looking at him anymore, but I could tell he was surprised by the long seconds it took him to respond.

"How so?"

I shrugged, putting my hands into the bowl once more. The consistency of the damn stuffing still looked suspicious to me.

"It's just a day when everyone keeps reminding me how old I am. What's fun about it?"

He chuckled.

"Someone suffers from the Peter Pan complex."

I shrugged again, not knowing how to answer. I really did suffer from the Peter Pan complex.

"So I guess you don't want your birthday present, then?"

I froze with my hands dipped in the stuffing. Did he just say what I thought he just said?

"What present?" I asked, afraid to look at him."

"Turn around and see."

Ever so slowly, I took my hands out of the bowl and turned to him, not even bothering to clean myself off first.

Looking at him, I discovered that he was now holding a little bag I haven't noticed before. He must have put it aside when he first came into the kitchen.

"I... It's for me?" I stuttered, placing my palm on my chest.

Dominic's eyes traveled down to where my hand rested and raised a brow. Following his gaze, I realized that I've managed to spread they gooey stuff all over the front of my shirt. I bowed my head and let out a long sigh.

"I'll clean myself up."

Not raising my head, I sidestepped him and padded over to the sink. I couldn't find the towel – I must have placed it somewhere else, as usual – so I said screw it and just rinsed them above the sink. When I turned around, I jumped in place, surprised to see a body standing right before me. Dominic's arm snaked around my waist to support me and my palms instinctively rested on his chest for balance. Realizing what I've just done, I lifted them quickly, seeing two wet handprints on his t-shirt, right where my hands had rested. I exhaled, mentally facepalming myself.