The Transfer Student

The Transfer Student: Chapter Six

"We're going to the movies, honey, an we probably won't be home 'till late. Why don't you and Adrian cook for yourselves and have a "teen" night?"

I could hear my dad and his infinite road rage over the phone, as I rolled my eyes at my mom's suggestion. "That's fine, mom. Have a good time, okay?"

After I hung up, I looked around the kitchen. "Let's see...heavy chair...duck tape...I think I can survive tonight."

"Kinky," Adrian grinned from his spot on the couch.

"I hope you get infested with the crabs of a thousand whores," I glared.

Adrian's grin grew, for some reason my temper was amusing him tonight.

"Alright," I muttered. "It's five thirty so we should probably get started?"

"With what?" Adrian pulled his hood up and wiggled farther into the couch, closing his eyes.

An evil grin worked it's way onto my face. I grabbed a purple and white flowered apron out of a kitchen drawer, walking quietly over to Adrian I stood before him. His eyes were still closed, so he hadn't heard me. 

"Kitchen slave!" I yelled and pulled the apron strap over his head.

He gasped in surprise and stood straight up. My guess is he was so tired from school that he had dozed off. 

As he stood his chest bumped into mine, with my hands still on the apron neck strap. With surprise on both our faces now he tried to take a step forward to balance himself but that only made me lean back and lose mine.

Instinct made me grab my other wrist and lock my arms around his neck, gasping as we fell, one of his arms went under my back and the other hand out to hit the floor.

...I never touched the floor.

We were nose to nose, his arm keeping our torsos pressed together as his hand supported us. 

I didn't imagine it, but it's still hard to believe, Adrian's eyes widened and his cheeks turned pink. Don't know why, he's never been nervous with me before...

We stayed like that for half a minute before I cleared my throat, "are you going to put me down now?"

"Uhh yeah," he turned even more pink as he ever so gently lowered me the few remaining inches to the floor. He rolled to the side and stood up, offering me a hand.

I grinned as I took it, his embarrassment was hilarious. Who knew a man-whore could be shy?

"Now," I said. Taking the strings to the apron I reached around him to tie it in the back. I didn't look up but I knew he was staring and I could feel his warm, irregular, breathing on the top of my head.

Walking into the kitchen I took down a knife and cutting-board. "You're going to have to chop vegetables because"...I held up my bruised wrist and frowned at him..."this still hurts like a bitch."

A small smirk appeared on his lips, though he was still pink. "I'm sorry about that."

"No, you're not." I passed him to take down the pasta and sauce.

He chuckled.

~Ten Minutes Later~

"I've never had pasta from a box."

Slowly, I turned to look at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, my Nonna makes it from scratch. When she gets into it it'll be hanging everywhere, waiting to dry."

"Sounds delicious," I said softly, fantasies of fresh canolis already cropping up in my mind. "So...why did you decide to come here?"

"Well when you sign up for the transfer program you don't have a choice where you go, it just so happened that your mom picked me. And as for why....I wanted a change I guess." 

"Oh," I took the now chopped up vegetables from him and poured them into the red sauce, then I got down the red pepper. "I'm going to assume you can tolerate a little spice."

"Oh yeah, Bells, I was raised on the stuff," Adrian laughed. "Are you sure you can handle what you put in?" He smirked and gestured my measuring of the dangerous red stuff.

I nodded and calmly flipped the water on in the sink. After I had put the pepper away, I walked slowly to the sink as Adrian eyed me suspiciously. Before he could react I grabbed the sink's hose and sprayed him full in the face.

"Sorry," I grinned as he stared, dripping wet, at me. "I thought you needed to cool off."

"Ha ha, fuck you."

His accent showed through and I giggled as the image of a big guy with greased hair, sausage fingers with huge rings that stroked a waxed mustache and a gold chain necklace popped into my head. I think I've had to much coffee.

"Show me the money, Tony, or my boy Dretti is gonna tear you up," I stroked a fake mustache of my own.

Adrian raised an eyebrow, a look of horror on his face. "There is something really wrong with you."

I held up the hose, "say that again."

He ducked under the counter until only his glaring blue eyes showed, "put that down, will you?"

I laughed and held onto the hose as I stirred the boiling pasta. Aside from tripping me, Adrian wasn't so bad....I'm sorry, I just realized how stupid that sounded. What am I thinking?