Idiots to Lovers (bxb)

5 | Faking Allergies and Losing At Therapy

We were about half done with the banana bread now...banana cake? I don't know what strange concoction is going to come from this.

I was carefully slicing bananas while Everett was chopping them up into horribly misshapen pieces.

"We can't use those to decorate the top, Everett, they look terrible," I said in dismay.

"Ouch, rude. It doesn't matter how it looks, dude, it's going to taste the same."

"Don't you want to sell these at the cafe? I think more people would want to buy it if it looks nice," I pointed out. "They're not going to know how good it tastes until after they buy it."

"Hmm...alright, you might have a point there," he admitted. "I guess I've already ruined the last few bananas though."

"We could try something...."

I used my forefinger and the side of a knife to carefully place the cut banana at the base of the tray, molding and pressing the lumps as I worked. It eventually made some type of geometric pattern with floral shapes over the thin mixture of butter and brown sugar.

"Woah that's amazing," Everett gasped, peering over my shoulder.

I hadn't realized how close he was, but as soon as I felt his proximity my body started to heat up. I could almost feel his long lashes fluttering against my cheek. It sent shivers up and down my spine. His face was so close that I could feel every exhalation, warm against my neck.

He was breathing rather loudly actually, ignoring my personal space and breathing all over my cake. It was kind of annoying. Yes, annoying, I told myself, that's what it actually was. I grabbed onto the minor feeling of irritation and focused on it until my heart rate went back to normal.

I finished the rest of the decorating much more slowly than my initial pace. Well, it was distracting with that weirdo breathing down my neck! I finally put down the knife and stepped away from him in some relief. I mean, all relief, just relief of course, not like...disappointment or anything.

Everett still leaned over the tray, exclaiming over the pattern. "It's so cool, man," he gushed. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"It's not perfect," I muttered. "It's a little messy really."

My hand had slipped more than a few times while he was pressed up against me. I felt hot again just thinking about it. I'm surprised I managed not to cut myself.

"Are you kidding, it's amazing!" He looked up at me. "Shit mate, are you okay?"

"What? Yeah." I tried not to panic as his stupidly gorgeous eyes searched my exposed face; my thoughts were probably on full display. I tried to arrange it into a blank expression.

"I think your allergies are acting up again, you're all red." His brows drew together in worry and I probably grew even redder. "What's happening? There are no flowers here."

"It's uh—" Shit. I racked my brains on what to say. "The window's open." Was all I could come up with.

"Ohh, sorry about that." Everett hurriedly banged it shut, knocking over a small window-sill potted plant in the process. "I didn't realize your allergies were that serious."

"Um...it comes and goes," I lamely said. They weren't really that serious. I indicated the bowl, changing the subject. "Anyway, uh, we should probably start beating this now."

"Oh no, YOU beat it." Everett pointed at me determinedly. "There's raw egg in there, and you lost the bet."

"What's wrong with the egg?" I asked, staring in confusion at the two eggs I had cracked. They looked innocent enough.

"Ergh, I just hate when that stuff gets all over me when I start beating them," he complained. "I know it's just a part of baking but it feels gross."

I stared at him, horrified. "How is that a part of baking?"

"The electric beater always makes like half the stuff get on you!"

"That cannot possibly happen."

"It does," he insisted. "I'll show you, just this once—but next time you lose at therapy you gotta do the beating bit."

Everett shoved the bowl under the electric mixer and turned it on directly to the highest setting. Half the bowl's contents immediately flew out, splattering him in raw egg and mushy banana.

I could not speak for a long moment. I was still reeling from his stupidity.

He turned to me unabashed. "See," he said.

His pretty, black curls were dripping with disgusting egg yolk. Wet ingredients were smeared all over his smooth golden skin. His eyes still glittered like a billion stars, but his dumbness was enough to keep them from distracting me this time.

"Why would you stick it under the highest setting," I finally said. It wasn't even a question at this point; I knew the answer would be something stupid.

"So that it beats faster obviously." He shrugged. "It's already done."

"It's not done, there's still stuff sticking to the sides of the bowl."

"Oh that stuff—no I don't put that in, I just pour in whatever's been mixed."

"But...but—" I floundered for a moment before I directed a well-deserved glare at him. "You're wasting so many ingredients!"

"Yeahhh, but I don't measure the stuff properly anyway, I just instinctively know how much of each thing to put in so that the beater wastages and stuff wouldn't mess up the ratio, you know, based on the viscosity and things of various ingredients."

I blinked at him, realization dawning. The muffins he had baked were good enough for me to believe his chaotic methods actually worked; this boy was either a genius or an utter moron.

He looked back at me with a dazzling smile. His tiny nose wrinkled up, twitching for a moment as a bit of egg yolk trickled down it. He tried to hold it back but then he let out the cutest little sneeze.

"Trust me Clementine, I have a gift."

He was cute but...God was he annoying.

Like if you feel like smacking Everett

Comment what you'd do if you had to cook with him xD

I found this pic on Pinterest and it reminded me of these two :)