Aviana (MC Riders #1)

M A M I H L A P I N A T A P A I

/ma-mey-la-pin-ought-ta-pay/

noun

a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither wants to begin.

~🎲~

" W H E R E ' D  Y O U  learn to cook?" Gunner asked with a gentle voice. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, his eyes trained on Aviana's form as she moved around the kitchen. A part of him wanted to walk over and wrap his arms around her waist, but he wasn't going to make the mistake of moving too quickly for a second time.

Aviana looked up at him just as she ignited the stove. "Casanova taught me," she smiled slightly.

He still couldn't get over how smooth her voice sounded; it was almost like he could reach out and caress every soft syllable she uttered. He was utterly entranced by her, now more than ever. "You two really are good friends, aren't you?" he commented.

He didn't say it with any hidden motives; he was over the whole Casanova thing.

Mostly.

A single one of Aviana's eyebrows arched and he could read the question on her face as she turned towards the fridge. "I don't mean it like that," he studied the counter under his fingers, rubbing the cool marble with his thumb. "I'm just... glad you had someone."

He wasn't completely happy with the fact that they were so close, but he could tell Casanova had taken care of her while he was off being an idiot. He was more thankful for it than he was bitter about it.

Comfortable silence filled the room once again, the only sound that could be heard was the gentle cracking of eggshells as Aviana cracked them against the side of a plastic bowl. There was bacon already frying in the pan and though she had originally wanted to try and make what they called 'sunny-side up' eggs, she had trashed the idea when she couldn't stop the yoke from breaking each and every time. So, scrambled eggs it was.

She peered over the cookbook that laid in front of her, reading the next step when she realised she needed coriander. She knew the spice rack was directly behind where Gunner stood, staring at her, so she continued whisking her eggs as she spoke. "Nick, grab the coriander, please?" the name slipped without her even noticing it.

Gunner hated his name. Well, he had... until he heard her say it. It was the second time she had slipped up and used his actual name, but he couldn't say he didn't like it. He grabbed the small container and with two steps forward, he was right behind her.

"Here," he breathed, his pulse sky-rocketing at their sudden close proximity. He didn't think he'd ever get used to this. Shoving one hand in the pocket of his jeans, he leaned against the counter with his other, peering over Aviana's shoulder to watch as she mixed the coriander into the egg mixture.

Her hand faltered for a moment, almost dropping the whisk as she felt Gunner's breath fan out over her collarbone. She didn't think he even fully registered it when his chin dropped to rest gently on her shoulder. There was still a part of her that wanted to cringe away from his touch, - anyone's touch - but she pushed that part of her down, concentrating on how good it felt to finally have him close again.

After a few more seconds, Aviana poured the egg mixture out of the bowl and into a separate pan to the bacon. As she adjusted the heat, she raised her other hand, quickly slapping away Gunner's creeping fingers that were trying to reach for her bacon.

"Ow," he whined playfully before chuckling. "You may be tiny but you hit hard."

She rolled her eyes, knowing he had barely felt the slap. There was barely any fat on her bones, let alone muscle.

"Is any of it for me?" he asked after a moment.

She eyed him from the corner of her gaze, grabbing a spatula to start scrambling the eggs as they cooked. "If you're good," she mumbled.

She could practically envision the way his face lit up with amusement as he let out an awestruck laugh. She couldn't blame him; even she was surprised at how quickly she had grown comfortable around him.

"You never cease to amaze, Avi," she heard him mumble from behind her.

Aviana's cheeks blazed at both the compliment and the new nickname but she hid it with a flick of her hair. The movement drew Gunner's attention and he had the sudden temptation to play with her hair as she cooked.

Ignoring his weird urges, he distracted himself by grabbing two plates out of the cupboard, placing them next to the stove so she could fill them up once she had finished cooking.

She saw the number of plates and smiled slightly. "You're optimistic," she murmured before glancing up at him only to see him already staring at her.

He shrugged, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. "I figured you wouldn't let me go hungry," he gave her a lop-sided grin just before their moment was rudely interrupted by the obnoxious opening of the kitchen door.

Gunner didn't even need to turn around to know who it was, but Aviana threw a glance behind her, smiling when she caught sight of Casanova's familiar form. "Good morning," she called out with a soft voice.

Gunner refused to turn around now, knowing his friend would have picked up on the easy-going atmosphere between himself and the girl in front of him. He didn't want to deal with his smug ass this early in the morning.

"Good morning to yourself," Casanova drawled, coming over to the pair before slinging an arm around Gunner's neck. "And to you my fellow man. I see you're having a very good morning."

Gunner shoved his arm off, trying to scowl but failing as a smile broke through. "Fuck off," he muttered.

Casanova tried to lock him in a playful headlock but one mediocre punch to the gut was all it took for him to move his arms to guard his stomach as they continued to scuffle.

"Hey," Aviana's voice drew Gunner's attention. "Not while I'm cooking."

Casanova took his moment of distraction to slap him upside the head. Gunner returned the favour by turning and shoving him against the counter before pushing him out of the kitchen.

Aviana shook her head, turning back to her eggs as she scooped them out, depositing them onto the toast that laid on the two plates. "Utter children," she muttered to herself.

~🎲~