The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

Chapter Twenty-One-Shallow Comfort

RILEY

LUC LET ME SIT on the soft nook of the window seat, tucked in a heap of pillows. The cushion was an ample, cozy mattress fitted over the corners, and through the glass wall, I admired the beautiful view outside as snowflakes floated down. It was as if they never ceased to fall. Mounds of snow panned out across the highland, shrouding over the crest of pines. 

The daylight was cruelly harsh and bright as it beamed off the dunes, a luster so shimmery that it pierced my eyes.

From the kitchen, the smoky scent of cheese trailed all the way to my nose while Luc performed his magic over the stove, lost in his own thoughts like I was in mine. He eventually padded to the living room, hovering a large wooden tray in the air behind him. He sighed and settled on the bed, casting a tired, squinty look toward the surrounding forest, then nudged the platter filled to the brim between us. 

A weird smile stretched my lips as I acknowledged two fuming bowls of mac and cheese, a plate of pretzels and peanut butter, and a stack of Oreos with milk, the last one being my special request.

"Quite the feast," I said.

Luc huddled on the opposite corner of the alcove cross-legged, hefting one of the bowls toward him. I examined mine as I grabbed it, and my mouth watered just when the thick aroma wrapped around me like an invisible hug. It was warm in my hands so I clutched it nearer through my sleeves. 

He'd prepared a mac and cheese stew, but he didn't stop at the cheese and pasta. From what I could see, he'd added onions, snips of vegetables and herbs, and sprinkles of bacon. My spoon stirred the content as it pooled into a creamy melt. It even had that awkward fleshy sound as I mixed the food for good measure.

Luc noted my embarrassment and waggled an eyebrow. "That's how you know it's good."

"Shut up," I groaned over my heating face. His eyes were staring at me, waiting to see my reaction to the first taste. "It looks good."

"You'll let me know what you think once you actually take a bite."

I spooned a good load and dragged out an oh-so satisfying cheese pull. How did he create this so easily? Maybe this was his best superpower after all. I shoved the spoon in my mouth—and oh God.

"Holy crap," I slurred, and Luc smirked.

I freed a hand and stuck it to my lips. This could never compare to the traditional. The pasta was a tender chew, but the flakes of bacon and vegetables added a crisp with the coarse flavor of the cheese. Underneath it leaked a runny juice, and it felt like it was some perfect combination between onion soup and mac and cheese. My tongue was too busy savoring a new gamut of flavors to give Luc a coherent approval.

I swallowed and looked up at him, surprised. "Oh my God... Is this even cheddar? This can't be cheddar."

He winked. "I used smoked gouda for the cheese, actually. There's no cheddar in it."

"Whenever you cook this again, call me. I'll come over anytime." And running, maybe.

We dug in, wedged in our cloistered little cranny by the window. It was calm for a while as we figured that we'd better start talking only after our tummies were full. I was torn between the urge to scarf down the meal to get on with it and making the heaven in my mouth last longer.

And I feared that whatever will ensue might upset my stomach and ruin the food. 

But the inevitable happened and our bowls emptied. I set mine back on the tray and reached for a cookie, dipped it in milk and cupped it so as to not make any crumbs.