The Royalty

Chapter 22

I sighed, dropping the extinguisher, and leaned against the counter, trying to slow my racing pulse. America, on the other hand, was clutching her stomach and laughing uncontrollably. "What's so funny?" I asked bitterly.

"Oh my God, Maxon. How do you manage to mess up eggs? They're like the simplest things ever to make!"

"They weren't like that two minutes ago," I protested.

A little calmer, but still laughing, America asked, "Why did you even try? You've never even cooked before."

I looked at my hands glumly. "I thought you would like to have breakfast when you woke up. I figured you'd be hungry."

I folded my arms over my chest, wishing I could disappear. Why was I stupid enough to think that I could cook? I had no training. I hadn't been taught. The staff at the palace had made sure I'd never need it. Unlike America, I hadn't ever had the need to fend for myself. She used to be a Five so she'd actually needed to learn things like cooking.

"No, don't get upset," she said with concern. America rushed over, pulling me into a hug. "It's okay."

"I just wanted to make you something," I mumbled into her hair.

She moved out of the embrace a bit, looking up at me. "I know. How about, later, we cook together? I'll show you how to make something that'll really impress a girl."

.

.

.

After breakfast, which America made, we relaxed for a while. We sat at the table, sipping coffee and talking. She held my hand, running her finger over my silver wedding band absently. She didn't even realize she was doing it, but it was like I was hyper-aware of her. I'd thought that once we got married it would be different, that it would calm down a bit and it did... slightly.

"Alright, go get dressed," America said. "It's time for me to teach you how to cook."

I smiled as I stood from my chair. "Are you ever going to tell me what we're making?"

"Yes! Just go. I'll get everything ready and I'll be up soon."

I put my hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'm going."

I hurried up the stairs and into my room. I searched my suitcase, looking for something suitable to wear. Settling on a pair of khaki pants and a light blue button-down shirt, I went to the bathroom to freshen up and get dressed.

Satisfied, I went back downstairs. America came over holding a dish towel, staring at my outfit. She shook her head at me, smirking. "I knew you would do this."

"Do what?"

"I knew you wouldn't bring anything casual. That's the least fancy outfit you brought, isn't it?"

"Maybe..." I hedged. She shook her head again as if I was ridiculous.

"Lucky for you, I thought about this beforehand. Go back up and go into the black duffel bag. I packed a few outfits for you to choose from."

I sighed. "Do I have to?"

America laughed. "Yes! Now, hurry up! Everything is almost ready. I'll be up in a minute."

I climbed the stairs again, going slowly just to annoy her. She hit me lightly with the towel and I went faster. I went back into the room, seeing the bag. I unzipped it and pulled out a few articles of clothing. It was mostly jeans and t-shirts. I reluctantly pulled out a grey, v-neck t-shirt and and dark jeans. I cast a longing glance towards the suits in my bag before changing. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but laugh. I hardly even recognized myself without my signature attire.