“Serves you right,” he mumbles under his breath, lifting brows and grinning at me. He looks back over his shoulder to see she hasn’t heard and gets back to downing his food like a starved dog. I wonder if he’s perfected the art of wolfing it down, so he doesn’t taste it.
“Here, drink slowly. Do you need me to pat your back?” Natasha appears at the side of me, flapping around me and sliding my glass in front of my face as though she really thinks she needs to manually make me drink it. I take it from her with a weird squint her way.
Yeah, calm yourself, Mom.
“Sure I can drink this just fine; it’s passed anyway; must have just gone down the wrong way.” I fake smile brightly and clear my throat, already feeling his judgy eyes on me in case I offend his stupid woman again and picking up on my sarcastic tone, even when veiled in super sweetness.
“She’s fine Tasha, sit and eat. You came over and cooked all this. At least sit and eat with us.” Arrick beams her way warmly, her face at once softening from maternal hen squawking around me to smitten doe eyes that make me want to gag. She can never conceal that bleurgh over the top adoration she has for him, and honestly, it’s kind of pathetic.
“No really, I told you I ate before coming over. You two enjoy while I clean up. I just didn’t want you leaving with an empty stomach for such a long drive.” She leans down kissing him on the cheek in a weirdly juvenile way before scurrying back to her domain, no doubt to shine the pots and steam the chrome cooker. I swear that chick could be in a Febreze ad.
It’s clear she has never heard of a twenty-four-hour drive- thru.
Arrick watches her walk away before bringing that cool set of hazels to my face, a little subtle reminder that he wants me to play nice and behave once again. He nods at the food and smiles smugly, suggesting I carry right along.
“Asshole.” I mouth at him silently, scowling when he only grins wider.
“Brat.” he answers back under his breath and carries on eating. This time I catch a flicker of a grimace when he takes a mouthful and I’m done for.
I can’t eat this crap, no matter how many looks and nods he gives me. He can smooth over her offended hurt feelings himself. I don’t care if she knows I think her cooking is shit. Right now, what I wouldn’t give for real pancakes swimming in syrup and some actual bacon. Not fake food that has about as much taste value as a cardboard box.
I sigh heavily and throw him my best wounded look that’s meant to translate to ‘I just can’t.’ Arrick frowns at me, He’s almost done with his food. He glances over his shoulder to see Natasha engrossed in looking under the sink for something, and he switches our plates, smoothly and soundlessly, without looking this way again until the swap is done seamlessly. I get that narrowed brow from him.
Pushing the almost done scraps in front of me, he takes my untouched plate himself and picks up my fork to start eating it. He throws me that ‘you owe me’ look and then digs into the food easily, obviously used to it, and has probably built up a stomach of steel and fire to deal with it. I know he can eat way more than these two portions of a normal meal, so maybe he should actually be thanking me that he’s getting one decent portion of tasteless, bland, cotton floss out of this.
I pick up his used fork and use it to draw patterns in the leftover yogurt, bored already and wanting to get going. Because now he has to stop and find me something to actually eat before we head to Amber’s apartment for my every possession, or I’ll waste away into nothingness.
“If you die, then know I tried to warn you, to save you,” I whisper at him and smirk when he fails to stop the half smile that hits his face.
“I swear … you’re going to get me strung up.” Arrick tries so hard to be quiet and grimaces like he’s ready to throw the plate at me already.
“What are you two whispering about?” Natasha draws our attention to her, guilt from him and deadpan from me. Arrick, at least, has the good grace to cover before I tell her the truth.
“Sophie wants the recipe for your pancakes.” He grins back at me with a wink and smiles harder when I scowl at him, standing on his sock-clad foot under the table, and get some sense of satisfaction when he pulls it away fast with a scowl and a silent ‘ouch’.
“Aww, really? Well, I can’t really take the credit. I found it on Google while looking for foods that were on his list of things he is allowed so close to a fight.” She beams in pride, clueless to the level of sarcasm radiating from my expression as I nod and smile.
“Guess I can always just look it up then.” I get up quickly with a huge sigh, patting my stomach dramatically. “Totally stuffed, so going to go wash up and get ready.” I smile breezily at the other girl. Nothing genuine in it, but just my typical tolerating her because she’s breathing the same air right now, and I don’t need another Arrick lecture on the art of playing nice. I make a move to walk past him, to go to his room to get ready to go and jump when he flicks me on the back of my hand.
“Ouch!” I yelp glaring up in alarm, and yet he’s still sat eating, with a feigned look of complete innocence on that asshole face of his. A sheer wicked gleam in those eyes. I narrow my gaze at his face frostily.
“Are you okay?” He turns my way with an air of pretend concern.
“Fine … just knocked my hand on a big, thick, wooden plank, that’s a bit dense.” I flick him back in the forehead, radiating a small thud noise, and run before he can get a slap at my ass. Running by with a squeal, I catch Natasha pretending not to notice that we are acting like children again. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard her giving him a little telling off for acting like a kid when I’m around. And that look she casts his way says it’s obviously what she is thinking about doing now.