The Recipe for Us

His gaze drifted lower, landing on the front of my singlet. His hand twitched as if he wanted to help, but he froze mid-motion. His jaw tightened, and his ears turned red, the tips burning bright against his blond hair.

He quickly cleared his throat and shoved the napkin into my hand. “I think you can do that yourself.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, heat creeping into my face. “Right. Yeah.”

I took the napkin, my fingers brushing his briefly, and turned away to clean the remaining flour off me. The awkwardness was palpable, and I struggled to find something.......

“Thanks to you startling me,” I finally said, brushing the last bit of flour off, “I need more flour now.”

He leaned against the counter with an amused smirk. “There should be more.”

“I know there’s more,” I replied, narrowing my eyes at him. “But you’re the one getting it this time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his tone teasing but obedient.