PitBabeS2, Chapter 1 pg8

pg8

    “Okay, then I’ll…”

   “Ouch!”

   With just a single yelp, Charlie was at his side as if he’d teleported. Babe jumped, startled, hopping like the kitchen floor wasn’t solid ground but hot lava. He pulled his arm to move his away from the sizzling pan of boiling oil, which was popping like a low-budget war movie, and snatched the spatula from his hand. Charlie’s face wasn’t panicked, but his eyes scanned Babe from head to toe. Babe could swear he saw laser beams shooting from his eyes.

   “Where… did it get you?” Charlie asked, his voice steady.

   “Didn’t get me, just startled.”

   “And you screamed like you got shot,” Charlie shook his head, letting out a soft sigh before nudging me out of the danger zone and taking over frying the eggs himself. Even though we’d agreed earlier that it was my job today.

   “Not letting me do it anymore?” Babe sidled up behind Charlie (because he was genuinely scared of getting splashed by oil), peeking over to see two perfect sunny-side-up eggs dancing in the pan. They didn’t look as scary as he’d thought, but that might be because Charlie was the one handling it. “Didn’t you say you’d let me do something exciting?”

   “Just seeing you jump away from the oil was exciting enough,” Charlie replied, reaching for a plate to transfer the eggs to their new home. “I thought letting you cook would be exciting for you, but I ended up more excited.”

   “Well, I’m excited too. Cooking’s not easy.”

   “Compared to racing?”

   “Racing’s way easier.”

   “Believe you,” Charlie chuckled, turning off the stove after getting two good-looking fried eggs as he wanted. “I was gonna let you try cooking, but I ended up doing it myself anyway.”

   “Why not let me do it? I just got startled earlier, that’s all.”

   “Cause I’m scared you’ll actually get burned.”

   “Let me get burn then. For anyone who enters in the kitchen, you’re bound to get splashed by oil. What’s weird about that?”

   “Forget it. I’ll cook for you,” the bespectacled guy brushed it off like he didn’t care. Charlie turned back to chopping the carrots waiting limply on the cutting board, acting cool like a manga protagonist who secretly wants to take care of everything. But in Babe’s eyes, he could still see those puppy ears twitching on his head. No matter how much he’s grown, Charlie’s still the same puppy he met almost three years ago.

   “Wow… so cool,” I propped my chin on the counter, looking at my personal chef with fondness. But in Charlie’s eyes, he probably thought I was teasing him again, judging by that sulky face. “Such a great caretaker, huh? Not letting a mosquito bite or a flea touch me, right, big guy?”

   “Isn’t that a good thing?”

   “Aren’t you afraid you’ll spoil me, doing everything like this?”

   “It’s probably too late for that,” Charlie muttered.

   “Huh?”

   “Nothing,” he looked up from his diced carrots, flashing me an innocent smile before leaning over to lightly kiss my cheek, probably thinking I didn’t hear what he said earlier. Sure. “Next time, if there’s a chance, I’ll teach you again. I’ll get you an oil-proof apron first.”

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