Sweet as a Strawberry

35 ~ Sweet as Cindy Lou Who

A/N: first of all, thank you for more stories, and for making me want to physically beat everybody who ever fucked with you with a rake.
second of all, you guys are babes.
third of all, please love me.
fourth of all, this dedicated to the lovely purple_princess143 for the beautiful banner which I am in love with!! :D

Chapter 35: Sweet as Cindy Lou Who

I started laughing. "Ben, that's a potato peeler."

He looked at peeler and then back at me with raised eyebrows. "So what?"

"I asked you to cut the carrots," I said.

"But shouldn't I peel them first?" He frowned and stared intently at the cutting board, where'd I'd put the freshly washed and cleaned carrots.

"I'm sure you would've had to, if I hadn't already done it, Ben."

Ben pursed his lips, turning his face away from me. I clapped a hand to my mouth in an attempt to not burst into laughter. "Oh," is all he said.

I paused to keep from laughing at his annoyed expression. He really wasn't a cook, was he? How did he even function at his apartment? "So...are you going to, you know, cut them any time soon?"

"Just keep the sass coming, Lottie," he grumbled, putting down the potato peeler in exchange for the knife I handed him. "Keep it coming, I have a thick head. I can take it."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Ben."

He didn't say anything, just reached out and touched my cheek, running his thumb across my cheekbones before nodding and facing the cutting board. I noticed his mouth thinning and his face turning pink, and that made me grin.

I opened the freezer and stuck my head inside as I searched for frozen beans, hoping that I could cool off the rising heat in my own cheeks. It didn't work though. I pinched my elbow and breathed deeply.

I wished he could be happy. I wished that permanent crease between his eyebrows would smooth out. But with his dad acting like such a...

I wanted to know more about Ben. I wanted to learn more about him than just his general likes and dislikes or his overall personality. I wanted to know his story.

I sighed and closed the fridge, my mouth turning down. I looked over my shoulder at his back. His broad shoulders moved up and down with each chop of the knife, and his head was bent over.

Would he ever let me in? He'd said he would tell me a story, but he ended up saying he wanted to wait until after dinner or something. He was avoiding the subject.

"You working hard there, pal?" I asked.

"Who's your pal?" he said sullenly.

I ignored that and skipped over to him, peeking around at the cutting board. The small circles of carrot he chopped weren't the same size, but the cuts were smooth. I beamed. "Beautiful," I said cheerfully. "You could be a professional carrot chopper, Ben."

He glanced down at me, and I was sure that he was about to smile. That made my grin grow, and I patted him on the arm before pouring the beans into a pot. "Where should I put these?" he asked.

"In the pot, if you please."

I stirred the pan that held the chicken and spices and then dumped the chicken into the pot with the beans and carrots. I hummed a little while I stirred the pot around, and then once the carrots cooked, I took the pot of cheesy roux and poured it in as well.