The Hunt: The Final Chase (3) (Edited)

Chapter 19

"So Jeff, you think Jonathan's okay?" Samuel asked, as he took off his shoes and sat on the edge of his twin bed. Jeff shrugged, sitting on his bed, "I don't know man, the way he looks at Marceline's a bit odd if you ask me." "What are you talking about, Jeff?" Samuel asked. "Well, I heard him talking to her about the room being "sound proof" the way I see it is him being a creep. Also why are European people way more attractive than Americans?" Jeff explained. "Well, I guess because they don't eat a bunch of fast food. Plus we walked everywhere in Europe so... that might be why. But we do live in the northwest, and here, no one likes fast food, Chick-fil-a is a hatred that most people native to Oregon despise. But no one here likes anything pumpkin spice related. I hate pumpkin spice, but I think that's just a Montana thing," Samuel explained. "Well then, I can tell you're from Montana because of your raspy voice, personality, and the fact that you hate anything pumpkin spice related, like Marceline. But she's Irish, but she was born in Montana so-" "What even is this conversation?" Samuel interrupted. Jeff shrugged, "Dunno, but I'm starving." "Well, we swam for about two hours, and haven't had anything to eat today so that's why," Samuel said, getting up. 

They walked down stairs and  sat on the couch next to Clancy, who was looking out the window. Jonathan came into the small living room and asked, "Anyone here know how to cook?" "You don't?" Clancy asked. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me Clancy," Jonathan joked as he put his hands in his front pockets. "Well, I can make tamales, Isaac can make a mean ramen noodles in a cup, and Marceline can cook just about anything because her grandma taught her. Also, someone ask her to make cookie dough, I don't know how she makes it taste like heaven, but it taste's like heaven," Jeff explained, propping his feet on the coffee table. "Well, who feels like cooking?" Clancy asked. Jeff shrugged, "Well, Isaac's hands are still bruised, I don't feel like it because I'm a lazy son of a whore, and I think Marceline's taking a nap. She didn't sleep at all last night," Jeff said as he twirled a thin piece of his thick ebony hair. Marceline walked down stairs a few minutes later and asked, "Someone call me?" "You mind cooking dinner? None of us feel like it," Jeff asked in a worn out voice. "Depends on what you have, Jonathan," Marceline said, fixing her suspenders. Jonathan walked in the kitchen and opened a few of the cabinets and the fridge that still worked somehow. "Well, I've got some ground beef, cheese, flour, lots of flour surprisingly, some spinach, tomatoes, and what looks like pasta noodles and a jar of pasta sauce," Jonathan explained as he skimmed the fridge shelves. "Well I can make something with the beef, cheese, and flour. You have any pans?" Marceline asked, grabbing the food from the fridge. Jonathan nodded and pulled a frying pan from under the sink. 

Marceline took the pan and set it on the stove, then opened the ground beef package and placed it on the burning pan. "Need any help?" Jonathan asked. She shook her head, "No, thanks for asking though. I haven't made this in years." "What is it?" Jonathan asked. "Just an old thing my mom used to make back when we lived in Montana and were unbelievably poor. My mom had these weird food combinations that tasted pretty good, though. But hey, I'm weird too, so I see where I got that from," she explained, turning up the stove. "Well, I'll let the others know who's cooking," Jonathan said, as he backed away from the kitchen. Marceline placed the uncooked beef in the pan over the stove and began to break it apart. She then took the now cooked and broken pieces of cooked beef and placed them in a pan, where the then put the cheese on the surface, then mixed the flour with olive oil and salt. She then poured it onto the pan with the other foods and placed it in the oven. 

Samuel walked in a few minutes later to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. "Samuel, you mind helping me with something?" Marceline asked. He shrugged, "Depends on what it is." "You mind cutting the stems off the spinach and putting the leaves in this bowl? I have to string the green beans. You like spinach, right?" Marceline asked, snapping the ends of the long string beans. Samuel nodded, "Yeah I like spinach, and I can cut the stems off." She smiled, "Thanks." It was quiet, as the radio played "Stella" by All Time Low. But after about ten minutes, Marceline asked, "By the way, about two weeks ago when Jeff nearly knocked you over after the cave incident, what were you doing? You leaned into me oddly close, then you fell over." Samuel froze, "Shit", he thought, "I don't want to tell her, but if I have too, I will." Samuel shrugged as he cut the stems, "Well, I was just checking to see how bad the black eye was. But now that it's blue under your eye, I can see that I didn't look close enough." "You're sure?" Marceline asked as she placed a few of the snapped beans in a white, plastic colander. He nodded, "Yeah, but there is something else too-" Before Samuel could finish his sentence, Jonathan walked in the cramped kitchen and stood over Marceline while she snapped the ends of the string beans. "Smells good," he said in a quiet voice. Marceline felt awkward not saying anything, but it would've been more awkward if she did anything. Samuel saw Jonathan wrap his arms around Marceline in an odd manner, then he saw his hands work their way down to her chest. "Uh, Jonathan, what the fuck are you doing?" Samuel asked. "Oh, sorry, I forget what I'm doing sometimes," he said, but Samuel could tell he was lying. Jonathan had the look of a liar and a lustful creep on his face, and Samuel could see right through it. "Jonathan, a word," Samuel said, sternly as he motioned his blue eyes to the end of the hallway. Jonathan rolled his eyes and followed Samuel to the far end of the hall outside the kitchen.