Chapter 19: Chapter Ten-2

“Enjoying yourself?” Lee’s resting on his elbow on the tabletop, staring at me with an amused twinkle in his eyes. Never let your guard down with the enemy, I scold myself. I remove the spoon from my mouth and place it on the plate mat. I push a string of hair behind my hair. “It’s okay.” Lee chuckles—the best sound I’ve heard tonight. “Really? It kind of looked like you were eating like you were on the brink of starvation.” Red fills my cheeks. “Shut up. It just isn’t too bad for a rich kid.” “Well, I have my hidden talents,” he muses. “You’re not too bad either for such a,” he pauses, stroking his chin, “average girl.” Lee starts chuckling again. I pick up some flour that I had used for my pasta and throw it at him. He’s caught off guard and his face gets white powder all over it. I start cracking up as he stands still for a couple of moments, rendering what just happened in his brain. I bet he never thought he would get flour thrown at him. I giggle at the thought. I’m so busy laughing that I don’t see flour flying across the kitchen and onto my chest. I look down at my sweater. Ah man! This was brand new, too! I think angrily. I grab a fistful of flour and rub it all over his suit. Once I see his expression, I regret doing so. Note-to-self, never anger a rich guy by ruining his expensive suit. “You are so going down, Miss Ivory Flores!” Lee says. He used my full name. He’s probably fuming with anger on the inside. He starts to lunge at me but I start running to the other side of the kitchen. “Get back here!” “Why would I ever listen to you?” I laugh, running once again as he tries to grab my arm. It’s a close centimeter but I move quickly on time. Before I know it, we’re throwing flour and everything we can find at each other. It’s so much fun I don’t even realize the mess we’re making. Lee is running towards me but he slips over some broken eggs on the ground. It’s the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen. I laugh for ten minutes straight as his cheeks redden. Thinking it’s time I help him up, I rush over but being the clumsy person I am—I trip on top of him. I can feel the vibration from Lee’s laughter as his chest falls up and down. My cheeks are red as I try to grasp any last piece of my reputation. But then I wonder why I care. I start laughing along with Lee. It was pretty funny. We’re laughing and laughing until our sides start aching. After, I just lay on top of him. The mood changes instantly. I get on my knees. “Oh, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to sit on you.” Lee awkwardly laughs and gets on his knees too. “It’s fine.” His eyes set on mine and the magnetic force is back. I want to kiss him. We’re inching closer before he pulls away. “We should probably clean up.” Rejection. Pure rejection. It burns. Y-Yeah, we should. My mom will kill me if she finds the kitchen in this shape,” I say, hoping his doesn’t catch the sadness and disappointment in my voice. I stand up and start picking things off the ground. “I’ll get the kitchen,” Lee says. “You go clean up.” He’s being surprisingly nice. His eyes show nothing but kindness. Does he feel guilty? “Just bring me something to put on.” I nod slowly and head out of the kitchen. I bite my cheek in the hallway to stop the tears from falling out. Lee rejected me. He doesn’t feel the way I feel. I knew it. Is this how he felt when I pulled away earlier? It feels so cruel. Stepping into the shower, I let my tears out as I clean the flour and egg off my body. I wash myself twice before heading into my bedroom to change. When I try to find something to wear, I curse Mom for putting all my comfortable clothes in the laundry. All I have are undergarments. I walk to Mom’s bedroom in my bra and underwear and pick out one of her t-shirts and shorts. They’re both big and baggy on me, thankfully. I kind of feel happy she decided to put all my clothes in the laundry. It gives me a chance to show off my body to Lee—one of the only things I’m proud about myself. “Here,” I say once I reach back into the kitchen. It’s only half clean. I throw him some of Dad’s old clothes. “They used to belong to my dad.” “Thanks,” Lee smiles genuinely. “But you don’t have to give me your dad’s clothes. I mean, they’re special to you, right?” He starts running his eyes over my body. “It’s fine,” I grin, noticing his eyes and how Lee actually listened when I was rambling about my dad earlier on. It’s a shame he doesn’t like me. The thought brings a frown back to my face. I feel tears coming on. “Um, you go shower. I’ll take care of the rest.” I don’t want him to see me crying again. I don’t want to appear weak. Lee nods and walks out of the kitchen. I mop up the floors and parts of the countertops that he had missed. Everything else seemed to be cleaned up pretty good. Again, not too bad for a rich kid, I think. When I hear the shower turning off, I microwave our dishes and set it up at the island. When Lee returns, my jaw drops for a split-second. It always surprises me when I see Lee without a suit. He looks like a normal teenager without it. “I-I heated our meals if you’re still hungry,” I say. I get us some water with ice and place everything at the island. I take a seat. “I would love to continue our little fight—which I was winning—but my stomach feels like it’s eating itself alive,” Lee grins, taking a seat besides me. “I haven’t even tasted your pasta yet.” “Well, be prepared. You are about to be blown away.” I don’t start eating his soup. I watch for his reaction. Lee spins some pasta onto his fork and into his mouth. His eyes widen a fraction, but I catch it anyways. “Told you it would be delicious,” I brag. Satisfied with his reaction, I continue drinking his delicious soup without containing myself. “And you said you would actually win this contest.” “I never said it was delicious. It’s okay. Could use better spices, though.” Lee continues eating my pasta, pushing his comments aside. “Denial,” I point out. “Besides, if you had tasted it while it was fresh off the stove, you would’ve said otherwise. I make a mean meat sauce. You can’t deny that, can you?” Lee just chuckles. “Hey, who taught you this? It’s pretty good for a rich kid.” “Um, my father,” Lee says. His voice is low. I’ve never seen him talking about something that’s ever made him vulnerable. I realize Lee’s never opened up to me. I told him about my father, but he’s never told me about his. “It’s an old British recipe.” “I knew you were British!” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “I could so tell. I have skills. Just like my amazing cooking skills that you keep denying.” I don’t want to push Lee into telling me about his father when he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Whatever you say.” The rest of the dinner we switch jokes and talk about random things like the weather and what not. It’s a comfortable conversation with light-hearted quirks. It feels nice. I push away all negative thoughts and just enjoy the moment. I hope it stays like this.