Fake It Like You Matter

"Did you want to come make some breakfast with me?" I wondered, still under the covers. We'd wasted the entire day hiding from the world, yet with him it didn't feel like such a waste at all.

"Its almost 8:30." Pete chuckled, "And you want breakfast?"

"Well, I'm hungry and I haven't eaten yet today." I told him, "So no matter what I ate, it would be breakfast, but I'm kind of in the mood for pancakes."

"Pancakes would be pretty awesome right now..." He agreed finally, "So would watching you make them in these shorts."

He slipped a finger just under the elastic of my pajama bottoms by my hip, and smiled up at me as he tugged it down a little, exposing my hip bone, trying to gauge my reaction to his move.

I bit my lip and raised my eyebrows at him and I guess he took that as compliance because next he dove under the covers and started to kiss the bare skin he'd uncovered.

I pulled the sheets away from me just enough so that I could look down at him.

"Hi," I smiled, "Whatchya doin?"

"Nuthin..." He lied and his eyes were all full of mischief.

I giggled and let my fingers run all through his hair but added, "That's right you're doing nothing."

I pushed him away from me and climbed out of bed, smiling back at him from the door, "Are you coming, or what?"

He followed me down the stairs and pulled a barstool over to sit at leaning on the big island, "You have a great house."

"Thanks," I mumbled distractedly as pulled out a cook book and flipped to a pancake recipe. "Read me the ingredients..."

"What, no pancake mix?" He furrowed his brow at the recipe I'd set in front of him, "This looks like a lot of work..."

"I like to cook." I shrugged, "Its fun, and then you get to eat it afterwards. Its a win win, really. Besides, isn't it nice to know whats actually in your food for a change?"

He read me the list and I slowly added each ingredient, flour, sugar, milk, eggs, vanilla...

"Okay, next is...3/4 of a tablespoon of baking powder," Pete recited, then looked up at me, "How come some recipes use baking powder and some use baking soda? What's the difference?"

"Well, baking soda is sodium bicarbonate. It needs to be mixed with a liquid acid, before it will release carbon dioxide. The bubbles of CO2 are what make the dough puff up and rise." I explained, "But baking powder is sodium bicarbonate, plus tartaric acid powder. So you just need to get baking powder wet to make it release the carbon dioxide bubbles, because it already has the acid in it."

He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Baking soda is only used in recipes when theres another ingredient it can react to, like lemon juice or vinegar or buttermilk." I smiled, "So if we were making buttermilk pancakes..."

"We could use baking soda?"

I nodded.

"Why aren't you going to university?" He asked me as I started pouring and flipping pancakes, "You're smart. You could be a scientist or something."

I sighed, "Its complicated."

"Try me."

"Well, its kind of like the pancakes..." I said after a moment of thought and piled a few on a plate for him, "I like to do things from scratch. No easy solutions."

"What does university have to do with pancakes?" He asked picking up the syrup and drowning his breakfast in sugary goo.

"My dad could pay for my whole education. He wants to. But I don't want him to." I explained pouring more batter into the hot frying pan. "I want to do things on my own. Save up and pay for it myself. Besides, that way I can take the classes I want to take, and I can go to whatever school I want to go to. I wont need his fatherly input."

"Okay... Thats not that complicated." He shrugged and started eating, "Except for the pancake analogy - which I still don't quite get, by the way."

"Pancake mix makes pancakes too easy...my dad paying for my education would make going to school too easy." I tried, "Either way I wouldn't end up appreciating the pancakes or my education as much as I should."

"Oh... Right." He nodded and took another huge bite of pancakes, mumbling, "I see it now."

"Bad comparison, sorry..." I shrugged, and concentrated on making my own plate of yumminess.

After our late breakfast, we did the dishes together and Pete suggested we take a walk to burn off the abundance of pancakes that we had consumed.

"I really shouldn't give you a hard time about school," he sighed as we walked down my street hand in hand, "Since I'm not going back..."

"What?" I asked softly, looking over at him in the fading orange light of the setting sun, "What do you mean...you're quitting? You only have one semester left..."

"The band can't wait. The label won't wait." He began, "I mean, its hard enough as it is, trying to do schoolwork and tour and run my own business and write for the new album...I need a break from one of them, and I cant let the guys down. I can always go back to school, but it feels like this is the right time to be focused on the band. It just feels like something big is coming..."

I nodded slowly as I listened. He had mentioned all of this before, and hinted about how tired and stressed out he always was, but I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want him to be unhappy, but if he put all of his attention into the band, how could he have any left for me?
We walked around my neighborhood and eventually found ourselves back at my doorstep.

"Is this goodnight?" He asked softly, "Because I don't really want to leave you looking all sad like that."

I chewed on my lip and looked down at the welcome mat.

"Was it something I said?" He asked putting his hands around my waist, "Please, tell me I didn't screw this up already?"

"You didn't." I said slowly, then sighed and looked up at him, "But is it too soon to be worried about you?"

"Don't worry about me, Love." He shook his head, "Thats my moms job."

I sighed again and felt his arms tighten around me.

"So, is this goodnight?" He wondered again and I just looked up into the night.

"No," I whispered finally, "I think I have a better idea..."