Chapter 11: Adorable

The soft aroma of freshly cooked food drifted through the room, wrapping Chloe in its warm embrace as she stirred awake. It hit her then—she was starving. 

Blinking herself fully conscious, her eyes landed on Blaine Jackson, who was carefully arranging a tray laden with porridge and side dishes on the table beside her bed. 

"That smells amazing," Chloe murmured, her voice tinged with surprise and appreciation. She inhaled deeply, savoring the moment as a soft smile spread across her face. 

"You're awake?" Blaine's deep voice carried a gentle warmth, though his brow quirked as if he wasn't quite expecting her to be. "I thought you'd still be asleep. I wasn't sure whether to wake you or let you rest longer." 

"The smell of food did the waking for you," she replied, her tone lighter now. "I didn't think I was hungry, but now…" Her stomach growled faintly, betraying her, and she laughed softly. "Now I think I could eat the whole tray!" 

Blaine chuckled at her exaggerated enthusiasm. "Let's not test that theory just yet." Without hesitation, he moved closer, sliding an arm behind her shoulders to help her sit up. His touch was firm yet careful, his movements so fluid they felt almost rehearsed. He propped her gently against the pillows, tucking the blanket snugly around her. 

Chloe's heart fluttered in her chest—an erratic rhythm that had nothing to do with her recent illness and everything to do with the man before her. 

"Here, try this first." Blaine lifted the bowl of porridge and scooped a spoonful, blowing on it lightly before offering it to her. 

Her eyes widened. "Oh, I can manage. Really." 

"You're the patient," Blaine said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Stop being difficult and eat." He brought the spoon closer, his gaze steady and commanding. 

Chloe hesitated, but the tenderness in his actions softened her resistance. "Alright," she murmured, opening her mouth reluctantly to take the first bite. 

Warmth spread through her—not just from the porridge but from the realization that someone cared enough to tend to her so meticulously. A shy smile tugged at her lips, and for a moment, she felt like a character in a dream. 

"Good?" Blaine asked, his sharp eyes scanning her face for any sign of discomfort. 

"Delicious," she admitted, her voice brightening. "Much better than anything I could've made." 

Blaine smirked. "Well, you do have a track record of mediocre cooking." 

Chloe shot him a mock glare. "Don't remind me. I still haven't forgiven you for your comments about my miso soup." 

He laughed softly, his usual sharp demeanor melting into something more boyish. "Alright, how about this? Let's make a deal. Whenever one of us is in a bad mood, we'll cook for the other." 

Chloe blinked at him. "Cooking when you're upset? That sounds like some kind of weird therapy." 

"It works. Trust me." He leaned back in his chair, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Plus, it'll stop us from taking our frustration out on each other. Consider it preventive maintenance." 

Her lips twitched into a grin. "In that case, you're going to be in trouble. I'm almost never in a bad mood, so you'll end up cooking all the time!" 

Blaine raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You? Never in a bad mood? That's hard to believe." 

"Hey! I'm serious!" Chloe protested, laughing despite herself. Her laughter was light and musical, filling the room with a brightness Blaine hadn't realized it was missing. 

He didn't say it aloud, but in that moment, she looked utterly adorable—her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, her smile radiant. It wasn't a word he often associated with people, but with her, it felt like the only one that fit. 

Suddenly, Chloe's face fell. "Oh no!" 

"What is it now?" Blaine asked, startled by her abrupt shift. 

"I completely forgot—I was supposed to grab some things from my apartment today! And there was a birthday dinner for a friend tonight!" She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I didn't even call to let them know I wouldn't make it." 

"You had a fever of 102," Blaine said flatly. "How exactly were you supposed to make those plans, let alone call anyone?" 

"I don't know, but now they probably think I'm unreliable or that I don't care," Chloe muttered, her voice tinged with frustration. 

Blaine sighed. "And what do you plan to do about it? March over there now and apologize?" 

"Would you drive me?" Chloe asked, her tone almost hopeful. 

"Absolutely not," Blaine replied, his tone firm. "It's the middle of the night, and you're still recovering. You're not going anywhere." 

"But—" 

"No buts." He crossed his arms, his expression brooking no argument. "Call them tomorrow. Explain the situation. They'll understand." 

Chloe pouted but nodded reluctantly. "Fine. You're probably right." 

"Probably?" Blaine repeated, arching an eyebrow. 

"Alright, alright, you're definitely right," Chloe conceded with a small laugh. 

Blaine smirked, shaking his head as he stood. "Finish your porridge, then get some rest. And don't even think about sneaking out while I'm not looking." 

Chloe's eyes followed him as he moved toward the door. "Blaine?" 

He stopped, glancing back at her. "What?" 

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the air between them. 

Blaine hesitated, his expression softening before he gave her a small nod. "Get some sleep, Chloe." 

As the door closed behind him, Chloe leaned back against her pillows, a quiet smile on her lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly cared for—and that feeling was more comforting than any bowl of porridge could ever be.