Drop Dead.

After the little incident between Mel and me, I didn’t see her much. When she wasn’t out with Oliver, she was holed up in her room with her phone and laptop. She didn’t come out unless it was to shower, leave, or use the bathroom. So I used the time away from her to teach myself how to cook. It was a slow process and I lost track of how much food I burned.

I was sure Melanie was going to kick my ass once she got out of her slump for wasting so many groceries on self-cooking lessons. I didn’t dwell on it, though; the worst case scenario would be that I would have to buy next month’s groceries, which was fine with me.

Oliver came around occasionally, but after the spat between Mel and me, I didn’t see him much. When he did come over, he didn’t stay very long and he barely acknowledged me aside from waving and smiling. Then I wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day until he passed through the living room to get to the front door.

“Fuck,” I cursed, yanking my throbbing, burning fingertips away from the stove. I grasped them with my free hand tightly, hissing through my teeth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ow.” Continuing my imitation of a snake, I waddled over to the sink and ran the cold water, shoved my singed fingers underneath. My breath came out in a hiss as the water made stinging contact with my heated skin.

After a few minutes of letting the water run over the burn, the stinging started to fade and reduced to a dull throbbing. I shut the water off and wrapped a dish towel around my hand, glaring viciously at the pan on which I’d burned it in the first place. Although my fingers were protesting the continuation of my lesson, I didn’t stop and my determination resulted in my burning an entire package of sausage.

To my shock, Melanie padded out of her bedroom, barefoot and sniffing the air wildly. “What the fuck is burnin’ in ‘ere?” she asked. She saw me and I smiled sheepishly, pointing downward at the pan of burned sausage. Slowly, a smile curled the corners of her mouth and she shook her head at my wild antics to become the next Emeril.

“Okay, first off, yeh never cook sausage over a full flame. It burns it, as yeh’ve learned,” she stated, shuffling over to stand beside me before the stove. “Second of all, yeh didn’t spray it and now yeh’ve got sausage stickin’ to the pan. Yeh scrapin’ it off, yeh know.” We smiled wryly at each other and Melanie proceeded to show me how to cook a proper breakfast.

It was as if any tense air between us had been cleared, for we were acting as if nothing had made us temporarily stop talking to each other. We joked and laughed and threw raw pieces of bacon at one another, sprayed each other with orange juice. Basically, we made a mess of our kitchen and spent the next hour or so cleaning it up.

“I’m sorry I was so…blah,” Melanie breathed after recovering from our laughing fit. “I just…I guess I’m kinda used to yeh dependence on me to do everythin’ for yeh, and yeh know I love cookin’ meals for yeh.”

I smiled softly and reached over to put my hand on her knee. “I know, Mel. But yeh have to realize that I can’t always depend on yeh. I know yeh happy with Oliver and I don’t want to take that away from yeh. Besides, I’m only learnin’ to cook for myself, not moving out.” She chuckled and nodded as she placed her hand over mine, squeezing it lightly.

“Yeah, I guess yeh right.” I grinned and nodded.

“Yeh damn right I am. Now, let’s make a real breakfast.” I helped her up and we got to work on a breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. Melanie let me take the reins on the scrambled eggs and I didn’t screw them up thankfully. They came out a little dry, but they weren’t burned to a crisp, not unlike my fingers, and with a little salt, they tasted okay.

“Not bad for yeh first time cookin’ an actual meal instead of that TV dinner shit,” Melanie joked, forking some eggs and biting off a piece of toast. She chewed slowly as I scoffed.

“Yeh the one who buys that TV dinner shit,” I remarked smartly, sticking my tongue out at her. She returned the gesture and we ended up in another mini-food fight. We were laughing and rolling on the kitchen floor when the pounding on the front door started.

“Who the fuck is that?” I wondered aloud as Melanie stood to answer the door. When she returned a moment later, Oliver was trailing behind her. I smiled in embarrassment as their gazes roamed our mess of a kitchen.

“What the fuck ‘appened ‘ere?” Oliver questioned, raising an eyebrow at the piece of toast stuck to the fridge. Melanie chuckled shyly and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Food fight,” we answered in unison. Oliver rolled his eyes but helped us clean up the mess despite the protests on behalf of Melanie and me. Following the clean-up, Melanie ventured into her room so she could shower, leaving Oliver and me alone in the living room.

“So it looks like yeh and Mel are all right now,” he observed, nodding slowly in approval. I mimicked his nod, although mine was a little more enthusiastic.

“Yeah, we talked this morning after our food fight,” I chuckled. Oliver quirked an eyebrow.

“Just how many food fights did yeh have?” he questioned warily. I chuckled nervously.

“Two? Maybe three?” I said sheepishly.

The way he smiled at me lit my cheeks on fire and I could feel the blush creeping down my neck. The way his eyes bore into mine, as if he could see right through me, made my stomach do flip-flops. The way his voice spoke to me sent shivers up and down my spine and I couldn’t sit still. My legs were curled underneath me on the chair and I uncurled them and rested them on the floor. Then I crossed my right leg over my left. Then I curled them back underneath me.

Oliver chuckled and my face was aflame again. “Anxious about somethin’?”

I laughed nervously. Yes. “No, just can’t get comfy.

He scooted over on the couch and patted the seat next to him. “There’s room, yeh know.” I simply shook my head and settled on draping my legs over the arm of the chair.

“I’m good now.” He looked at me as if he knew the reason for my fidgeting, but before he could call me out on it, Melanie appeared, showered and dressed in a simple yellow sundress.

“Ready?” she asked, smiling brightly at Oliver, who nodded and pushed himself off the couch and reached out to grab her hand. My stomach lurched. “Bye Char.”

“See yeh, Charlie,” Oliver bid, following Melanie out of the apartment, leaving me to calm my breathing after hearing his lips speak my name.