**ROSEANA**
"Damon, can you please just sit?" I asked him, irritated. I narrowed my eyes as I shot a disapproving glare at him.
I've been pissed at Damon for a while now. He refused to leave. He has been bothering me while I am cooking. He will open the cabinets and then examine the stocked foods. He notices everything. He cannot be fixed in one place. He acts as if he is the owner of the house and has been living here for a long time.
His gaze turned to me. He looked at me over his shoulder. His back is turned to me while he scrapes the contents of the small fridge inside the kitchen. His broad back is facing me, and I can see his muscles flex every time he moves. I almost think that he purposely turned his back on me, mainly to seduce me.
His lips formed a subtle pout, his eyebrows knitting together in a display of mild annoyance. There was a hint of childlike sulking in his expression, like a momentary lapse in his usual stoic demeanor. I stopped myself from smiling at his appearance. I forced myself to look serious.
"I am just looking," he reasoned. He closed the fridge. I watched him walk to the dining table in the middle of the kitchen. He pulled up a chair and sat on it.
Our table looked so small compared to its frame. Even the chair looked small when he sat on it.
"Aren't you going to continue cooking?" he asked because he noticed that I was looking at him.
I am cooking a fish with tomato sauce. I fry the fish first. After this, I will make a sauce.
It's good that Damon reminded me that I was cooking something because I almost forgot and the fish almost burned. I act quickly and flip the fish on the other side.
I was in such a panic that I didn't even think that oil might splash in my direction. I was very shocked when that happened. Gosh, Roseanne! Are you even thinking?
I was scolding myself mentally.
"Fuck! Can't you cook properly?" Damon yelled at me. He immediately grabbed the tongs from me, turned off the stove, and dragged me to the sink. I don't know how he got to me so quickly. He was just sitting at the dining table earlier.
He put my hand on the faucet. His brows drew together, and his eyes were sharp. I just watched him do what he was doing.
"Damon, I'm fine." I got his attention. I winced when he glared at me. I instantly shut my mouth.
"Why aren't you careful?" There is a hint of irritation in his voice. "You will be cooked before the fish you are frying."
I winced. He is overreacting. I didn't get hit by the oil splash. I was just so surprised that I screamed.
“Damon, I'm not injured. Besides, I didn't get splashed with oil," I explained. I thought he would calm down when I said that, but his thick eyebrows only met more.
He scoffed. "You'll wait until you're injured before you're careful," he said firmly. I just sighed and didn't make any more excuses. I let him wash my hands.
"I will continue what I cook. Damon, don't be so mean," I told him.
He ignored me and even rolled his eyes at my side. After he washed my hands, he didn't allow me to go near the pan. He insisted that he continue to fry what I was frying, but I didn't agree because he doesn't know how to cook. He doesn't even know how to wash the dishes!
"Roseana, don't be stubborn," he said. He opened the stove and started frying the fish. "Just sit down," he said, pointing to where he was sitting earlier. I'm like a child being told to behave by his parents.
"You don't even know how to cook," I mumbled.
He raised his brow at me; he didn't speak.
"Damon..." My patience was running out.
"Relax, love," he said. My face is crumpled more. "It's just frying a damn fish," he said arrogantly.
"You're so arrogant, Damon."
He laughed at me. Instead of sitting, I stood near him. That is not because I am clingy and I want to be close to him. It is more to see if what he is doing is right. I'm hungry, and I don't want to eat charcoal just in case he burns the fish.
“Transfer the fish to that plate," I ordered him. He glanced at me. After that, he followed what I said. He carefully took the fish with a tong and placed it on a plate with layered tissue paper.
I was nodding at what he was doing the whole time. He silently obeys my orders. His face is serious, and he doesn't seem to blink as he does exactly what I told him to do. He was so focused that I could imagine that he was afraid of the fish moving and that it would move even though it was already cooked.
"Should I put the rest on the pan?" he asked. I hummed, then nodded.
"Be careful." I hadn't finished what I was going to say when he placed the fish in the boiling oil without warning. The oil splattered.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I lost count of his profanities. He jumped slightly away from the pan.
"Are you okay?" I asked him worriedly. I saw that he was burned with oil. I immediately approached him, being careful not to touch the boiling oil.
"Are you okay?" He mimicked what I asked. Instead of answering my question, he first examined whether I was also burned. I shook my head.
I grabbed his arms and looked at him. He does have burns.
"I told you that I would cook. You are so hardheaded. Now, look at what happened," I said. He just remained silent.
"Wash your hands," I ordered him.
I turned my back on him. I hadn't taken a few steps away when he grabbed my hand. My gaze was fixed on him.
"Where are you going?" he carefully asked me.
"I will get the ointment for your burn," I replied. He didn't move immediately. He seemed to be carefully assessing whether I was telling the truth. My brows drifted together. What is going on with this guy? Why does he seem afraid that I will leave?
"Okay," he muttered after a minute. He let go of my hand, so I went straight inside the room. I took the ointment in and immediately came out.
I caught up with Damon, who had finished washing his hands. He looks at his arm. His red lips twitched. He's such a baby.
"Does it hurt?" His eyes widened, and a stunned expression crossed his face. He looked like a child who was caught by his mother doing something silly.
I notice that I often compare Damon to a child. Well, that's because he is! The size of his body and he might seem scary and truly intimidating, but I also see a cute side to him, an innocent one.
Damon hid his arm behind his back. He even cleared his throat and avoided my gaze. I stopped myself from smiling. It should be his cuteness that I should blame for forgetting what he did to me weeks ago. Yes. I have to avoid his cute side; he is too hypnotizing.
"No," he said with a shaking head. He tends to what he is cooking. My brow raised when he flipped the fish just before it could turn black.
Nice.
I pulled the chair to the dining table and sat down. I waited for Damon to finish what he was doing before I called him.
"Come here," I told him.
He moved quickly towards me. When he was in front of me, he just remained standing. I didn't try to look up at him because my neck would hurt. I pulled his arm and made him sit in the chair in front of me.
"What's that?" he asked when he saw the ointment I was about to put on his burnt skin. It's red now, and it definitely stings.
"Ointment," I answered briefly.
"No." Damon quickly snatched his arm from my grasp just as I was about to apply the ointment.
"Damon, don't be naughty. Give me your hand," I ordered him.
The man shook his head and refused to give me his hand. This one is hard to understand.
“Damon.”
"I don't want to, Roseana. I can give you my hand, but not put anything like that on it."
"Don't wait for me to grab your hand, Damon," I said angrily.
"That thing stings," he said with a crumpled face.
My brows furrowed. Is that the reason why?
"Are you afraid of the ointment?" I can't stop asking. He growled even more.