Off The Ice

Chapter 33

Harry's POV

I wake up and Sutton's already gone. I check the clock on the nightstand next to me and notice that it's already 9:15. No point in going to my first class, it's already almost halfway over. 

I stand up from the bed and put on a pair of sweatpants, remembering that Gemma is in the house, and then walk out into the living room. Gem's already awake and in the kitchen with Teen Mom or whatever playing on the TV. "Good morning," she chirps as takes the spoon of peanut butter out of her mouth. 

"Hey." I walk around the counters and lean against the counter next to the stove where Gem is. "What are you making?"

"Pancakes. From scratch."

"Good God."

"Shut it. My pancakes are brilliant and you know it."

"Sure. They're alright when they come from a pre-made mix in a box from the market. Not when you wing a recipe you've never done before."

"They look pretty good to me. Now if I could just get this one to flip," she says as she picks up the pan and starts maneuvering it to get the pancake to one side of it. 

"Why don't  you just use a spatula?"

"Because I don't want to, now shut it and let me concentrate!!!" She turns her focus to the pan and continues moving it. She wiggles it a little and then gives the pan a slight jerk. The pancake flips halfway and then lands on the side, halfway in the pan and halfway out of it. "Shit!!" She jerks the pan again the the two halves flip on top of each other, luckily inside the pan.

"Congratulations. You've managed to make a pancake in the shape of an omelette. Gold star, Gem."

"Shut your mouth. It's a right side better than you can do."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Isn't it always?" She narrows her eyes at me as a smirk grows on her face. She flips the pancake-omelette in the pan onto a plate and then sets it on the burner. Taking a step back, she motions to the stove and the bowl of batter on the counter next to it. "Well go on."

I step forward and grab the bowl. "Watch and learn, sis." I pour a moderate-sized puddle into the pan and wait for the fire to heat up the under side. 

"Where's your wife?"

"Not my wife and she went to practice."

"Practice?"

"For her figure skating thing. She is to report to her coach's rink at 5am every morning and gets off at 4pm every afternoon. Except for Sundays. Sundays she has off," I explain before taking my own spoonful of peanut butter and putting it in my mouth.

"Damn, major respect. She must really love freezing her arse off all day every day."

"That's what I said." I prepare to flip my pancake and get it to one side of the pan. After a forceful jerk the thing flips over and lands nicely back in the pan. "Ha. Told you."

"How the bloody hell did you do that?!"

"It's not exactly rocket science." I roll my eyes jokingly at her incompetance and watch as she eats her omcake.

"It tastes fine just the same thank you very much." She makes a point to chew in exaggerated movements as I wait for my perfect pancake to finish. To be honest I actually didn't know I could do that until now. I've never been much for the culinary arts. "So. I had no idea you had enough money to buy a house. How long have you had this place anyway?"

"I built it a few years ago when mum and dad were still around. It's been my secret sanctuary until someone decided to get fucking nosey and creep her way here."