Hey people! Don't die of shock, firstly because then you wouldn't be able to read this (and I spent ages on it) and secondly because I'm not who you think I am! It's ME, Tahli. Random person extraordinaire. I wrote the next chapter for Kat, but it took her ages to write this one up, and I just got impatient. So I wrote this one too.
Oh, and Kat doesn't know this is being posted, because she's at work, so suprise her with lots of nice feedback, PLEASE!!! Plus, this is a late celebration of our Wattpad birthdays!! Mine was Nov. 3, Kat's was a couple days before that. But because we're so nice, we're giving you presents for our birthday!
And if you're wondering what's with the quote, I went back and put them in most of the chapters, because I read a book that I liked that had quotes at the beginning of each chapter that tied in.
"You know when the grownups say that everything's gonna be fine, and you think they're lying to make you feel better?" - The Doctor, The Eleventh Hour, Doctor Who.
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“On the count of three, okay?”
“One…” Jack started.
“Three!” I yelled, scooping up a spoonful of the filling and dumping it onto my pastry. It was dinner time, and true to his word, Jack was teaching me to cook. Apparently, they had a name, but I liked to call them ‘Meat and Veggies and Some Brown Powder that Might have Important Mixed Together, Put On A Triangle of Pastry and Sealed that Then Get Cooked and Smell Amazing.’ Yeah, sometimes I have trouble with names. What can I say? I’m a special child.
“Cheat!” Jack yelled, trying to copy me, but in his haste he dropped his spoon, sending the filling across the bench. “Ah, shit.”
I folded the pastry across and pressed the edges down with my fork, before sliding onto the oven tray. “One down!” I called. I pulled my next piece of pastry over and scooped more filling onto it.
“One down!” Jack called. I rolled my eyes.
“Shoulda been faster, honey.” I gave him a sugar-sweet smile, sliding my second pastry onto the oven tray. “Two.”
It was at about this time that Jack decided to steal my spoon. I glared at him, then continued with my third pastry. His loss. I’d already put the filling on mine, and now he was even further behind. I slid it onto the oven tray. “Three.”
“Dammit. Two.” Jack muttered, sliding his onto his tray. I nicked his spoon and filled my fourth and final pastry. He fumbled to catch up, and as I folded over the pastry, he resorted to chucking bits of filling at me. I cringed away from them, but pressed down the edges and slid it onto my tray.
“Four! I win!” I yelled, doing my victory dance. He sighed and sat back. I compared the two trays. His, with two pastries and bits of filling everywhere. Mine, with four pastries, relatively neat and ready to go. I kissed his cheek. “It’s okay. You can have one of my pastries.”
He rolled his eyes. ‘You’re too kind,” he muttered sarcastically. “Okay, let’s get these into the oven.” He picked up the trays and slid them into the oven, then set the timer. “Now go get ready for the campfire. I don’t want you to freeze to death. If you do, they’ll say I’m a bad boyfriend.”
I laughed. “Yes sir! What should I wear?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
I rolled my eyes. “Is it a special occasion, or just a casual thing?” I felt stupid asking, but I’d feel even stupider if I turned up in my jeans and hoodie and everyone else was all schmancy.
