The warmth from the overheating laptop on my legs combined with the coziness of my blankets sent me away to the Land of Nod, and I only awoke from my dreams when Molly got home a couple of hours later.
I heard the lock of the door click as she came in, and her voice moments later.
"Yeah, yeah, it was great! Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow then. Yeah, that's fine. Okay, bye!"
She hung up the phone and came into the living room with a spring in her step. Well. Someone was happy.
"So how was your day?" I asked.
"Pretty good, didn't do much," she said distractedly, picking at her nails.
I raised an eyebrow.
"I think that might be a slight understatement. Who were you chatting with on the phone?"
"Jeez, Elise, back off!" she said, feigning anger and a Valley Girl accent. "But okay, I'll tell you. His name's Michael, I met him at work the other day."
"So I was right about you having a crush!" I exclaimed triumphantly, fist pumping. Score one to Elise!
"No, I don't have a crush on him..."
"Yes, you do. You can't deny it!"
"Oh, fine," she sighed, "Maybe just a little, tiny one."
The eyebrow went up.
"Really!"
It climbed further up my forehead.
"Maybe it's a little bigger than tiny."
The eyebrow vanished into my hairline and disappeared from sight.
"Okay, okay!" She mimed holding up a white flag of surrender, and waved it.
"So I have a crush. Why's that such a big deal?"
"Because I like to make fun of you, and you're always happier when you have someone to obsess over."
Molly enveloped me in a bone-crunching hug, and I winced.
"Okay," I croaked, pushing her back, "You can be excited, but maybe tone it down just a little? That hurt."
I mimed twisting the dial on an old radio set, as if to turn down the strength of her hyperactive hugging.
Molly flounced into her bedroom, presumably to change, and I stood up from my cocoon of warmth on the sofa. Like it or not, there were things that actually needed doing. Such as dinner, for example, or cleaning the flat. It was my week to wash the bathroom floor and clean the porcelain king, a task I never really looked forward to.
As I scrubbed the tiles, I thought about my channel. It was probably just going to be another dead end, like all the projects I'd started in the past. My scrapbook, for example. I'd dedicated so much time to that during the six months I'd used it- and where was that now? Half finished, and in the bottom of a storage box in my mum's house.
With a sigh, I started cleaning the mirror, crumpling some supermarket's flyer into my hand. Not that many people even liked my videos anyway. And without some kind of miracle, I was just going to end up disappearing into the digital mists of the Internet, like almost every other aspiring YouTuber. Out of all the creators on the website, only a few made it big, and I definitely wasn't going to be one of them. Maybe I needed to stick to just one type of video? But no, look at Smosh! They uploaded all sorts, everything imaginable, and no one can say they aren't popular.
Finishing my work, I stepped back into the mirror and looked into it. As a little kid, I'd always believed that there was some kind of alternate reality in mirrors, exactly paralleling our own, and its inhabitants mimicked us to avoid being caught. However, when we turned our backs, that other world's inhabitants would come and wreak havoc. Even thinking about such a ridiculous theory brought a smile to my face- no wonder my mum had never believed me when I said the mirror people had put all my toys out again when I'd clearly tidied them up.
I straightened up and stretched, leaning backwards with my hand on my hips. Nice and clean, and my chores were done. The chrome tap glinted, and the shower curtain was folded back and tied against the walls. But something was missing... the towel rail was empty. I fetched two from the cupboard, and folded them, like two fluffy pillows ready to welcome you after a warm shower.
"Knock knock!" Molly called from outside, "Are you finished? I need to shower!"
So much for the reverie. My bubble of happiness now burst, I sighed and opened the door. "It's all yours."
My blue biro scratched across that item on the sheet of paper that was my to-do list. One item down: bathroom cleaned. Next up? Dinner!
On my tip toes, I reached up into the space of a shelf above one of our cupboards, where we kept an incredibly trusted item: the cookbook. I brought it down, relaxed my feet, and gently blew dust off its cover. It was an item my mum had given me the day Molly and I moved in together, saying, "I don't want you eating pizza or Chinese takeaways every night. Firstly, it's important for your health, and also important to your bank account."
Despite her warnings, we rarely used the cookbook. We didn't usually have the time to try nutritious and delicious meals- they took too long too make, required shopping for special ingredients like vegetables, and generally didn't taste as nice as pasta. They also had a lot more steps, which meant a lot more possible opportunites for them to go wrong.
But today, I was feeling adventurous. Today, I felt I could be healthy! Today, I would not set the smoke alarm off and end up with tomato sauce splattered on the ceiling!
I flipped through the pages, sneezing as dust from the book fluttered up my nose. It settled open on a page with a recipe for quesadillas- something I hadn't seen before. The picture looked nice- a slightly blackened tortilla, folded over, with a little cheese oozing out. Apparently, the author liked his with salad, but we were just having oven chips. Who cares about being healthy?
Briefly, I flicked through the instructions, my eyes darting from line to line. Frying pan, cheese, peppers... It couldn't be that difficult. I opened a new bag of chips and poured them into a pan, before sticking that in the oven and setting the timer.
The fridge door let a burst of cold air into the kitchen as I opened it, and my hairs stood on end as I continued to search for the ingredients. Unsurprisingly, we had cheese, one of the ultimate comfort foods, along with plenty of chocolate. Sadly, I didn't think that would work too well in a quesadilla.
A chunk of Monterey Jack fell onto the side, followed shortly after by half a green pepper and some chicken. I had cut the meat into bite-size a few days ago and left it at the front of the fridge in the hopes that Molly would get the hint and cook stir fry, her specialty. Unfortunately, she remained oblivious and instead ordered in a pizza. Such a hard life.
I took some tortilla from the bread bin, and splashed a little oil into the pan. With a knife, I spread some salsa onto the cheese, then tossed in some pepper slices and the chicken. The tortilla was folded, and went straight into the heated pan with a satisfying hiss.
One of my favourite parts about cooking was the sounds. Even just making toast, you get that incredibly fulfilling 'ding!' as your crispy bread jumps out of the toaster. Or when you spread on the Nutella, and the dry toast beneath crackles as you rub against it with a knife. There's also the refreshing gasp a kettle makes when you let the steam out, and the sound of crunchy peanut butter scraping against crackers when you spread it on.
The oil hissed again as I pressed down with a spatula, and flipped the tortilla. With a single deft movement, I pulled it out of the plan and gently tossed it onto the plate, still steaming. I made another, and did the same.
"Molly!" I called, "Dinner!"
The only thing that would drag her from her room: the prospect of food. As if by magic, she appeared at the door, like a puppy following its nose to the next meal.
"You got out the cookbook!" she said, joining me on the sofa with her plate.
"Yeah, we need to clean up there more often! The whole shelf was covered in dust."
She grimaced. "Good point. What's in these?"
"They're quesadillas, so tortillas, salsa, cheese-"
"Hold on," Molly held up her hand to interrupt me, "What's that smell?"
I took a sniff of the air. Something slightly charcoal-like, maybe a bonfire, definitely something burning.
"Drat! I know what it is!" I screamed. Just when I thought I couldn't mess up the meal, I'd left the chips in the oven. Classic Elise.
A/N: Hi! It's me again. I hope you like it- sorry if this was a bit filler-y, it actually does serve a purpose later on...
Anyway, please vote/comment/fan! (Anyone who does will receive a free virtual cupcake complete with a token for one free virtual hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles. I know you people like cakes..)