Deal With It ✓

Eleven: The Aftermath

Song: Papaoutai//Stromae

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ROSE

I'm not going to lie, Dylan's request took me by surprise. Throughout the few months that we've known each other, we haven't exchanged much in conversation– anything I know about him, I know because Amber spams my messages a lot. Whenever it was just the both of us, he would act awkward around me, always averting his gaze from me and acting as if he would rather be anywhere than near my presence. Sometimes it was a big blow to the ego, especially because I've grown fond of Amber– I really do love her– and it sucks that her brother and guardian did not enjoy being around me. So I didn't try to mask my shock at his question, because making lasagna meant that we would have to spend time with each other and so far he's given off the impression that he'd rather do anything but that.

However, despite my awareness of his discomfort, I agreed to teach him how to make the Italian delicacy.

Maybe it would be fun!

He told me he wanted me to talk him through the steps while he worked on completing my orders and, although it was a strange request, that's what we did. He'd decided to start with the bolognese sauce and I agreed knowing it would take the longest time to cook through while I grated the cheese on the counter I was situated at. Done with the cheese, I looked up to watch as he seasoned the sauce with his preferred spices and I couldn't deny the fact he was attractive– like really cute. I wasn't looking for a relationship, neither was I attracted to him in that way, but I think it's fine to make an observation, especially when he was still shirtless.

I couldn't help but sniff the air as the scent of the tomato sauce swirled around us, "Smells delicious!"

He put the lid onto the pot, to let it simmer for a bit, and turned around to face me, giving me an appreciative smile, "I mean it's your recipe, so this is all your doing." He humbly replied taking a grated piece of cheese and into his mouth. He slapped his hands together and rubbing the palms of his hands. "Alright, what's the next step?"

I furrowed my eyebrows and scrunched up my nose in thought and once I remembered I turned to Dylan and caught him looking at me, but he quickly averted his gaze and spun around so that his back was facing me. I frowned at his actions but chose to not comment on it. Instead, I stood up and made my way towards the cupboards to pull out a saucepan– watching him waltz around the kitchen allowed me to understand the layout and where the utensils and ingredients were situated.

"Alright, so now we need to make the bechamel sauce," I told him, placing the pan on the stove and turning around to look up at him. "This is the hardest part since it requires some experience, so I'll make it. Can you please get me these ingredients?" I asked him politely, listing off the items one by one off the top of my head.

He nodded in return and brought them back to the workspace while I pulled out other utensils I need to fix the sauce. He watched me intently as I put in the ingredients into the saucepan and started whisking. 

It seemed like he was processing what I told him because he suddenly asked, "Wait– did you just nicely tell me I'm incompetent?" Referring to when I had insinuated that making this sauce was hard and required some technique he probably doesn't have.

I laughed, throwing him a quick glance over my shoulder before directing my attention back at the stove, "No offense?" I weakly replied, playfully wincing at him although he couldn't see my face.