The Fault In Our Stars: After Augustus

Chapter Seven

I had just reached my house, as I saw Nicholas on my front porch.

"Hello there," Nicholas greeted me, smiling brightly.

"Hi," I said, smiling back.

"Shall we?" he said, nodding at the door.

I nodded, and we headed inside.

"Mom! Dad!" I shouted.

I was just about to call for them again, right when I spotted a note on the kitchen counter.

Dear Hazel,

Your Father and I went out with Eva and Brandon, don't wait up, we'll be back late. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I love you.

-Mom

"What is it?" Nicholas asked, observing me read the note.

"Well, our parents are out," I answered him. "They said they'd be back late."

"Looks like we've got this whole place to ourselves," he pointed out.

"I guess so," I paused, and there was a moment of awkward silence. "I'm going to go wash up."

"And what do I do?" he complained.

"Help yourself," I told him. As I walked upstairs, I saw him smirking, from the corner of my eye.

~~~~~~~~~~

Once I finished freshening up, I grabbed some comfy pyjama pants, and an old cotton shirt. I walked downstairs, smelling scented candles.

"Nicholas?" I called for him, wondering what he is up too.

I made my way right to the kitchen, which no longer looked like my kitchen. Our dining table had a white blanket on it, acting as a tablecloth, one of my Mom's Bath & Body Works candles lit in the center, our only wine glasses on the left and right side of the table, and a beautiful meal to eat with the perfectly set utensils.

I gazed at what he set up in astonishment.

"Nicholas..." I finally said.

He came and pulled out one of the chairs for me. "M'lady," he said, gesturing towards the seat.

"Why thank you," I chuckled.

"Don't laugh," Nicholas ordered, "you'll ruin everything."

I held in my laughter, I didn't want to ruin anything. I haven't had such a beautiful dinner since Oranjee with Gus, but nothing could top that.

"Good," he said, as he walked to his seat.

"What is this?" I asked, talking about the food. "I didn't know we had this in our fridge."

It was perfectly cooked pasta with a side of perfectly made garlic bread.

"You didn't have it made," he explained to me, "but you had what it is made of."

I was grinning like an idiot.

"Bon appétit," he said.

And we dug in.

It was delicious, the set up was beautiful, and Nicholas was an amazing person. I haven't been this happy in the longest time. But I knew, like most things in my life, it wouldn't last long. And I can't love Nicholas, I won't.