Sweetest Confusion

Chapter Thirteen: Mr Chef

Maddie's POV

Blinking, I turned in my bed but groaned as every muscle in my body ached. My head was throbbing as if I had spent the previous night drinking. I rolled out of bed. Groaning, I looked down to see my right ankle had swollen double the size of a large orange and I was most definitely not in my room. 

"Perfect," I muttered. Slowly, I hobbled down the stairs one painful step at a time. "Cooper?"

He whipped around. "Hey, are you are feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a tonne of bricks," I muttered, supporting myself by leaning on the kitchen island.

"Well, you were stuck in the rolling waves." He replied.

"I didn't even realise the waves were going to be that big. Usually, it's okay."

"From the news, it was some weird phenomenon that occurs only once every few years."

"Wow okay. I wish I knew that. Perhaps I could have trained more to actually surf it." I said. Drew laughed loudly.

"What?"

"Only you could think about surfing again when you had a near-death experience." He laughed, shaking his head.

"Yeah well. Having a near-death experience only makes you want to surf more. I mean, if you almost die it makes you question everything. You don't know when you will just up and leave, so best make the most of the time that you have." I shrugged.

"That's an impressive way to think about it." He grinned.

"It's the only way to think about it," I told him firmly. "Anyways, you got any food? I'm starved."

"Oh yeah, I was just making dinner." He turned back to the stove.

"You cook?"

"There's a lot about me you don't know Davis." He smirked.

"Yeah, like why I'm at your house and not the hospital." I looked at him. His face paled as I said that.

"Fuck!" He muttered.

"I'm glad you brought me here instead of the hospital. I'm not a big fan of hospitals." He let out a breath of relief.

"Well, that's good then." He smiled nervously "We should go to the hospital though, just to make sure that you're okay.

"Drew, I'm fine. Really. I feel totally okay. Except for the ankle, but I'll live. No pun intended. Alright, then Mr Chef what are you going to feed me?" I asked, as my stomach rumbled.

"I've made lasagne."

"Woah, that takes a long time to make."

"Nah, it's not so bad."

"I'm going to lie down on the couch. My entire body is killing me." I groaned.

"Let me help you."

"It's okay. I got it."  Those were the words I lived to regret because as I stood on my swollen ankle, I collapsed. The only reason I hadn't hit the ground was that Drew caught by my waist.

"You got it, really?" He smirked.

"I thought I got it, okay." I rolled my eyes.

"Just let me help you okay?" He lifted me up easily, holding me by my back and legs. He laid me down on the couch, propping my swollen foot up with a pile of pillows. "The lasagne is done. Let me just grab us some plates." He came back with two plates and a bag of frozen peas. Handing me a plate, he placed the peas on the enlarged area of my foot. I cringed as the freezing bag touched my heated skin.