Chapter 19-
Elizabeth’s POV:
“So you do know how to cook right?” Kent asks.
“When you say cook……”
I really hope he knows how to cook, cause I am one hundred percent hopeless in the kitchen.
“We’re going to starve to death.” He exclaims assuredly.
I sit on the black granite island counter top and look around the pristine kitchen, hoping a fully cooked meal will appear out of thin air or something.
The clock on the stove changes from 5:23 to 5:24, but that’s it.
“Check the fridge, maybe there’s something there.”
As he goes to check the fridge I notice his shirt is clinging to his back with water from where he didn’t dry off after his shower.
I chuckle, briefly remembering how he found the remnants of the bandages in the waste basket and yelled at me about it, then when I reminded him that they can’t be put back on and told him to quit wasting his breathe lecturing me over something that’s already been done, he stormed back into the bathroom muttering unintelligible obsantities at me.
Such a silly boy.
“Well, we have soda….and we have cookies, think that’ll tide us over for our next three weeks here?” Kent says.
“Depends, are the cookies homemade or store-bought?”
“Homemade, why?”
“If they’re homemade they’ll be gone by tonight…..so apparently we’re still in the ‘We’re going to starve to death’ range of things.” I reply back.
“What if they’re crappy homemade cookies made with disgusting ingredients, like toothpaste or something?”
“Hmmm, didn’t think of that. What kind of cookies are they, can you tell?” please don’t be peanut butter, please don’t be peanut butter!
“Chocolate chip.” Yes!
“Sweet! …Wait, do they have nuts or does it look like just chocolate chips inside?” You can never be too careful. Those evil little peanuts can be experts of disguise when they wish to be.
He holds the large clear bag full of cookies to his face to examine them, then looks back up at me, “Nuts. Why? You allergic?”
“Awe come on!” I look up at the ceiling, silently asking the forces of nature what I did to deserve such punishment as to not get my cookies. “I’m not allergic, I just can’t stand nuts in my dessert.”
“Not even in fudge?” He asks, mouth agape and eyes wide.
“I hate fudge, its gross all on its own.” I reply sourly.
“You’re a strange, strange little girl…..”
“Sue me.” I snap back. This sucks.
I want some freaking cookies.
“I guess we’re just going to have to order take out.” He says as he tosses the cookies back in the fridge and bringing his phone out of his pocket.
“You do realize if we order take out we’re going to have to decide upon the answer to the most disputed discussion of the American culture, right?”
“What?”
“Do we order pizza or Chinese food?”
“That’s easy- pizza.”
YOU ARE READING
Handcuffs or Jail?
Teen FictionLife sucks. It's just that simple. Her family is dead. She's been tortured her entire life- physically and mentally. And now, she's forced with the choice of being either be handcuffed to the guy she was arrested for arguing with, to 'work out thei...
