Love Is Not Enough | Chaelisa

Chapter 34

"Not clothes," I clarified, "we're going grocery shopping," I told her, as I took a bite of the toast I took from the plate already placed on the table by Jennie.

"Why?" she asked curiously, looking from behind her glasses that have slid down the bridge of her nose slightly.

"We're cooking dinner together," I shrugged and slid the fork piled with the yellow substance of the eggs past my lips.

"Ooh, sounds fun, what are you guys going to cook?"

"I have no idea, Rosie said she had something in mind," I told her, my voice just as wondering as hers, "but she allowed me to pick what kind of dessert we would make," I informed the brunette triumphantly.

"I really hope she only leaves the choosing to you, because I don't feel like coming home to a burn out apartment,"

"Shut up, I'm not that bad of a cook," I crossed my arms in front of my chest, as I huffed in semi offense. On one side I knew she was kidding, but on the other, was she really?

"What kind of dessert did you pick?" she asked, ignoring my scowl all together.

"Brownies," I lit up instantly, just thinking about the fudgy chocolate perfection we planned on making along with whatever she chose to do as the main course, "and for saying that, I won't be saving you any," sticking my tongue out at the older, I returned my attention back to the food on my plate.

"That's fine with me, I don't want to risk food poisoning anyway," she dismissed and took another sip of her orange juice, absolutely oblivious to my gawking at her words.

"You know, you're really mean, Jen," I told her but instead of getting any sort of an apology or clarification she was indeed, only kidding, all I got was a smirk as she looked at me from behind the glass filled with the fruity liquid.

So without a word, she finished her orange juice and stood up from her seat, walking over to the kitchen sink, where she washed the used dishes and placed them on the rack to dry. And I just continued looking at her, patiently waiting for any sort of an explanation, but it seemed to be pointless, as she paid me no attention.

Deciding not to focus on her words anymore, not wanting to give her the satisfaction, I turned my attention back to my food and stuffed my pouty lips. Even though I didn't want to let on I was waiting for a word from her, I still kept a pout on my lips along with the furrowing of my brows.

Just as I thought she would really not say anything, as she turned around and started walking away from the kitchen, she stopped at where I was sitting and I heard her chuckle, as she saw my slumped shoulders, "Kidding boo," and with that, she ruffled my already disheveled bed hair, "you know you love me,"

"Yeah yeah, whatever," I huffed but straightened my back again, turning around in the chair to look at her, "What will you be doing today?"

"Don't worry, I won't be around to third wheel during your cooking, slash make-out session," she rolled her eyes in good nature, making me blush furiously because I knew she probably wasn't completely off.

It wasn't my fault, though. Rosie was absolutely stunning after all, and finally, she was mine too. Was I supposed to keep my hands off of her? And if so, how exactly was I supposed to do that when she looked like a whole Victoria secret model? I mean c'mon, I shouldn't have been assigned impossible tasks.

"We won't be making out Jen," I defended and thanked whatever forces above for not stuttering along the way. Because just saying the words "make-out session" made memories of doing just that flash in my mind, and I couldn't help but think of how delicious her lips were, how her tongue brushed against mine, and so on.