08
Another week comes and goes, and before I know it Thanksgiving break has arrived.
So you'd think that I'd get to lay in bed all day, pantless, watching Netflix and eating from my stash of chips and candy, right?
Wrong.
My mother has other plans. Plans that don't include staying in bed in my underwear and t-shirt, watching shows and eating shit I shouldn't. Plans that include sending me on a shopping spree with Liam Evans so I don't buy more than what she put on the list for Thanksgiving dinner.
So that leads to me now, sitting in the shopping cart wearing jeans and a hoodie, Liam steering, different foods surrounding me. What? I got tired of walking.
"What's next?" He asks, tossing a bag with broccoli in it at me. I knock it down into my lap.
I look at the notepad with the grocery list taking up three pages. "Two cans of pumpkin," I say, wrinkling my nose with distaste.
Liam laughs as he pushes me and the cart onto the right aisle. "What's that face for?"
"I hate pumpkins. Everything about them. They smell weird and taste like shit," I tell with a shudder. "But pumpkin bread is awesome."
"So you don't hate pumpkins?"
I turn around to look up at him. "Um, I do hate pumpkins."
"But you like pumpkin bread."
I shrug. "I hate fish, but I love fish sticks. I have my issues, so bite me."
"Maybe I will," he teases, pushing me and the cart onto the aisle with the pumpkin. He grabs the cans from the bottom shelf and puts them next to me. "So you know that apartment I told you about at the wedding?"
I nod, scratching pumpkin of the list with a purple inked pen. "Yeah, I remember. Why?" I ask. "Pecans are next."
Liam turns the cart into the main aisle, trying not to bump into other people. "I got it. I'm moving in Friday," he tells me. He grabs a couple bags of pecans and drops them onto my lap.
I smile. "Congrats!"
"Thanks," Liam says, smiling back at me. "You know, I could use some help with the move."
I slap a hand over my chest. "I'd be honored."
* * *
"We're back, mother!" I call, holding at least five grocery bags on each arm. Liam has the rest and kicks the front door shut with his heel.
Mom makes her appearance, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She puts a hand on her hip and raises her eyebrows. "Call me mother again," she challenges.
I roll my eyes and brush past her into the kitchen. "Calm down. You're too serious," I say, lugging the bags onto the granite countertops. I push my hoodie sleeves up and begin to put things away.
She rolls her eyes and pulls the contents out of a bag. Mom chooses to ignore what I just said and change the topic. "Are you going to make the pies today?"
I sigh in exasperation. I've only told her about a thousand times that I am. "Yes, mother, I'm making the pies," I say.
Mom chooses to also ignore the fact that I called her 'mother' again. Liam breaks the silence. "You're still into baking?"
I nod. "Of course," I tell him, giving him a weird look. "Why wouldn't I be into it?"
He shrugs. "Well, you've changed a lot in the past few years, I didn't know it that changed too," Liam says. "So what are you making?"
"Two pecan, a pumpkin, two chocolate, a coconut, and some homemade rolls, if that counts," I list.
Liam whistles lowly. "Damn, that's a lot," he says, his eyebrows raised.
"There's going to be a lot of people," I reply, shoving a loaf of bread into a cabinet. I turn around to face him. "Your family, mine, my grandparents, and my aunt and uncle and their kids."
"Shit, that is a lot of people," Liam says with a laugh. "Need help?"
I look around, noticing that Mom has somehow disappeared. "I could probably use a little," I say, running through what I need to do in what order I need to do it in. "Wash your hands and we'll start."
* * *
"How do you do this all the time?" Liam groans, throwing himself in a chair at the island. I laugh as I continue rolling out dough for pies crusts, the dough for the rolls rising in a bowl on the counter next to me.
"Weren't you some hot-shot football player? Shouldn't you be able to handle standing in the kitchen for a few hours rolling dough?" I ask teasingly.
"In football, you don't roll dough and stand for hours," Liam tells me. The oven dings, meaning the pecan pies are done. He groans.
"Okay you big baby, I'll get them," I say, putting the rolling pin down. I wipe my flour covered hands on my jeans, then stick my hands into oven mitts.
I pull the pies out, relishing their sweet smell. I set them on the counter gently, grinning at their golden crust and perfectly cooked filling. "Look, they're so pretty! The prettiest I've ever made, I think," I say, pulling the mitts off. I look over at Liam to see him staring at me with a small smile, one I seem to be seeing a lot lately.
I gesture him over and he gets up slowly, making his way over to me. "They're very pretty," Liam says, his voice turning husky for a moment. I look up and he's not looking at the pies, but rather at me.
I try not to blush as my heart picks up its speed. "Thanks," I say, smiling.
Liam's standing close to me, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. If I moved closer, just a little, and tipped my head back, just a little, we could almost kiss. Almost. Could. Because we can't. I try not to think about the fact that I'm slightly disappointed.
"You have flour on your cheek," Liam whispers, taking his thumb and brushing it over my cheekbone.
I laugh softly and step back, knowing it was probably just an innocent gesture. He clears his throat and looks away. "I have flour everywhere," I say, looking at my flour-dusted arms, shirt, and jeans. "I even have it in my hair, don't I?"
Liam smiles again and chuckles, nodding. "Yeah," he says, eyeing my hair. I release my hair from its bun (if you could even call it that) and bend over, shaking it out. I flip my hair back as I stand up, and twist it back haphazardly before wrapping a rubber band around it.
"Next is the chocolate pie," I say, smiling brightly, almost forgetting the moment before that had my heart skipping beats. "Ready?"
"Mmm, I don't know," he says. "What do I have to do?"
"You have to chop this chocolate-" I say, pointing to two chunks of unsweetened chocolate, "-and keep the chunks separate."
I hand him a large knife with a wide smile. "Thanks!"
Liam groans again, for probably the billionth time since he's started helping me. I try not to smile as I finish rolling pie dough and drape it over a pie pan, pressing it into the glass and tucking the extra under the edges. I prick the bottom and slide it into the oven, setting the timer for ten minutes.
"I'm home!"
I can hear Beth yelling dramatically all the way in here. My whole family (excluding me) runs to the door and hugs her and starts talking over each other. Liam shoots me an amused glance as he chops the first block of chocolate. "Aren't you going to say hi to Beth?"
I roll my eyes. "Bethany Sawyer is busy greeting other people right now," I answer, grabbing another knife. I start chopping the second block of chocolate, standing next to him.
"Not so fond of her?"
I let out a breath. "I love her, but she smothers me, Liam. Beth is always on my tail, and she doesn't know what personal space or privacy is. And, not to mention, I'm basically living her shadow," I rant, chopping harder. I force myself to calm down, not chopping as hard.
He nods in understanding. "I get it. But I don't think you're living in her shadow," Liam says, casting a look up at me from under his long and dark eyelashes.
"You don't?" I ask hopefully.
"Nope," he tells me. "You're too good to live in anyone's shadows."
I smile. "Thanks, Liam."
"Tare-Bear!"
Now it's my turn to groan. Adam laughs at my expense as I put the knife down and turn to face my older sister. I'm nearly tackled to the ground in a giant hug.
"Hey Beth," I say, patting her back. I stand, motionless, as she still clings onto me.
"I missed you so much!"
"You literally saw me two weeks ago," I deadpan, giving her a blank look as she pulls back with the brightest grin you've ever seen.
"Two weeks too long!" Beth says. "Hey Liam."
Liam smiles. "Hey Beth."
Beth turns to me and wiggles her eyebrows. "You and McHottie, huh?" Her attempt at a whisper sucks, because I hear Liam snort at the nickname. I'm hoping it was just the nickname, not the thought of us dating. Even though we aren't going to date because I'm me and he's him.
I cross my arms. "He's literally right there and your whispering skills suck," I tell her. "I'm trying to bake, so can I help you?"
"Oh, okay. I see," she says, winking at me. "Just baking. I'm going to set my stuff down."
I have the sudden urge to throw a spatula at her, but she leaves before I can act out my thoughts. Damn.
"McHottie?"
I lean my elbows on the counter and bury my face in my hands. "She's embarrassing," I mumble through my hands, not willing to face him yet. "Beth thinks we're a thing."
"But we're not."
"Exactly," I say, standing up straight. "She doesn't believe what she doesn't want to believe."
"I can understand that," Liam says, nodding. "The chocolate is done."
"Thanks," I say, moving one section from the cutting board to a bowl. I do the same to the other section in another bowl.
"So what's next, Betty Crocker?"
I glare at him, but I'm also fighting off a smile. "Don't call me that. Everyone calls me that."
Liam winks. "Okay, Betty Crocker."
* * *
edited june 19, 2018