Culinaria L'amore

Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty-Four

"You.. want to make... brownies?"

I rolled my eyes and padded over to the cupboard and opened the doors, revealing a box of Ghiradelli brownie mix. "Yeah. I found these lying around in here this morning. Do you want to help?"

Garrett looked over his shoulder where Alonzo and Angela were making out on the sofa. With a small sigh, he turned to me and nodded, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a bowl from the cupboard. "Sure. Why not?"

The most ironic thing on the planet was that Garrett, the all amazing chef who was in the running to win the International Culinary Arts Festival, didn't know how to make simple, box brownies.

"Garrett! What the hell are you doing?" I yelled as Garrett tried to mix the oil and milk together, ten minutes later.

"I've never made brownies before and I've never really learned how to bake." Garrett mumbled, staring at the mixture in his hand, a bashful look on his face.

"My god. Garrett, I'm finally better than you!" I crowed, waving my spatula in the air. "I know how to make boxed brownies, and you don't! Ha!"

"Oh shut up." He muttered playfully, a slight smile on his face as he watched my celebratory dance.

"Sorry." I said with a grin, coming to a halt in front of him while mixing the batter quickly. "Want some batter?" I looked down at the bowl and wiped some off the side before sticking my finger in my mouth and licking it all off. When I looked up, Garrett was staring intently at me, or more like my mouth, his soft look going hard as his eyes met mine.

"I, um, I gotta go." He muttered softly, backing off.

"Huh? Where?" I asked. Calling after him as he tried to exit the kitchen, I set the bowl down. "Do you not want a brownie?"

The playful atmosphere immediately disappered as he frowned at me. "I'm going to go work out. I don't want a brownie."

'What a classic assholish Garrett move.' I thought as he fled, turning around the corner, and not knowing what I had done to have him act like he did the first few times I had met him. 'One second he's nice and sweet, and the next, a complete jerk.'

When I finished putting my brownies into the oven, I fled to my room, turning a blind eye to Alongela, and flopped on my bed, staring at my phone on my nightstand. Harrison still hadn't called and now I was afriand he never was going to: the suspense was killing and I contemplated calling him before shaking my head and letting my phone drop back onto the comforter. I was too much of a coward.

The pillows felt nice against my back as I kicked off my shoes and removed my apron, draping it over the chair, wishing that I had never asked Garrett to help me.

But, I had to admit, it was nice to know that I was better at someting than he was.

I woke up a half an hour later to the sound of the kitchen clock go off and Alonzo and Angela cursing as the noise startled them from whatever they were doing.

Bolting out of the bedroom, I reached the oven just in time to hear the last ring. Putting on an oven mitt, I gingerly took out the pan and set it on the stove, admiring out perfect this match turned out. Looking over at the refridgerator that was empty, I sighed-if there had been a tub of cookie dough icecream in there and a chick flick in the living room shelf, my life would be perfect. Staring down gloomily at my pan, I poke a fork through the middle and started cutting, practically sawing through the gooey chocolate. Garrett told me to not go after him? That was exactly what I was going to do. If he got a stomach ache from eating my brownie then excersizing, screw him. Any way, I was going to shove it down his throat if that was the last possible option, then get some answers.