On The Scale Of

Chapter 10

It was midmorning when I decided to cook my lunch. Nat and Catherine were visiting a friend's house right across the neighborhood. It was a quiet, lazy Sunday. I wasn't as well-rested as I'd hope, though. But I'm anticipating another general cleaning in the house so I'm excited. My spotter haven't contacted me regarding Brinkley yet, so I have free time for now.

"You're cooking."

I ignored the surprised tone in his voice and continued stirring the mushroom soup in the pot. I relished in its warm scent. I'm not about let to him spoil my mood.

Looks like that wasn't gonna happen as I heard his footsteps coming my way. "What are you cooking?" Daniel asked, looking over my shoulder.

"Food."

"Be specific."

"Edible food."

"Wow, someone needs to take the chill pill." He's a damn lawyer. Can't he guess what I was cooking?

"And you need to shut the eff up." I mumbled, now angrily stirring the soup.

"I'm merely inquiring as to what you're cooking. No need to get your panties in a twist."

This man literally just marched into the kitchen with the sole purpose of pissing me off. 

"Let me taste it." He held out his open hand to me.

I leaned away from him, hovering protectively over my creation. "What? No."

"Come now, Ri. No need to be insecure."

"You're insecure."

He eyed me apathetically, taking a spoon from his left and proceeded to dip it at my soup. The nerve!

"Hey!"

His outstretched arm stopped me from stopping him as he took a sip from the spoon.  He savored the taste and seconds later, his face contorted in apparent disgust.

My nose flared in anger, but I quickly let it dissipate. "Need I remind you that your opinion matters so little to me," I told him. "And I was gonna eat this alone anyways. Go make your own food."

He rolled his eyes. "Your soup is sweet."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Literally. Why did you put sugar in it?"

"I clearly put salt in it, Gordon Ramsey." I pointed the box of condiment beside me. It was then I noticed that the cooking area was too small for the both of us that our hips were almost touching. I backed away and pressed myself against the end counter.

"Taste it."

I glared at him as I dipped my stirring spoon in the soup and tasted the mixture. It was sweet. Huh.

"Eh." I shrugged it off. It's still soup.

"Are your taste buds dead? That tasted awful.  Is this what you put in here?" He nagged, his voice rising an octave. He reached behind me and snatched the box of salt.

"This is a box of sugar!" He interjected upon reading the label.

"No."

I grabbed the box back from him and checked it myself. It was sugar. Ah, shit.

Daniel crossed his arms. "You read that box awfully close to your face. You need your eyes checked."

"Maybe I wanted to make sweet soup. What's it to you?"

He wore a haughty smirk. "You are so full of BS, Ri. It's almost impressive."

I waved him off and continued to stir my soup. I made this, so I might as well eat it. It didn't taste half as bad as this mongrel claims.