“Love you and try not to set the house on fire.” My dad tells me, hugging me.
“Come on, Dad, you know I can’t promise that…” I tease, and he sighs.
The second they leave, I put on the song. Of course, I put a singable — read: shreakable — one.Rock Me by One Directionmakes the speaker tremble, and I sing while getting the ingredients for the scones. The pre-chorus kicks in, and I sing with a wooden spoon as a microphone. Then, the chorus comes, and I decide to notch it up a bit.
“I WANT YOU TO ROCK ME YEAH!”
“Not in front of my sister, Brown.” I stop in my tracks and stop the music. Of course, he walked in right this very second. I can practically hear him smirking, if that’s even possible.
“Oh, so you still came…” I turn around, disappointed.
“Were we not supposed to come here, Jake?” Alana scolds. It’s adorable and a little preoccupying that Jake gets scolded by his little sister.
“Relax, we’re always welcome. Especially in your dreams, right, Brown?” He smirks, and I just turn around, knowing damn well it’s not worth it. “Where’s my hug at?” He opens his arms like a dimwit, and Alana and I cringe at the same time.
“Please don’t.”
“Don’t ever say that again,in your life.” Alana begs, but still looks like she’s waiting for the miracle.
I go to him and give him a hug, since his sister is looking at us as if she needs to see something happen. I honestly get it. For people like strangers in the village to know we are dating is fine, but for our families, who have been unfortunate enough to watch us interact since forever, it is a little hard to believe or to be sure. She then gives a small nod of approval and goes looking for Lindsey. I let go of Jake and go back to my cooking.
“What are we cooking?” Jake asks.
“Scones.” Pause. “You keep saying we as if I ever askyou-” He takes the bowl out of my hands and places it on top of the counter.
“I want to help. Where are the aprons?”
“Uh, behind the pantry’s door.”
He goes and comes back with one of my favorite aprons. It’s white with different-sized black hearts all over it. I didn’t choose that one because I preferred my number one. The one I’m wearing has frat-boy era Harry Styles in it and a sentence sayingI work in a bakery.
“Oh wow, that isdefinitelyyour style.” I say, amused.
“Please, I know. I actually have one of those quintessential faces that can pull off anything.” He says, and he attempts a smolder as if he is on the next Vogue cover. I roll my eyes,making him smile, look at me, and then add. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Obviously. You know, you aren’t the only one who has a pretty face here.”
“You just can’t stop telling me I’m pretty, can you?” He smirks again, making me want to rip that stupid expression off him. I do my best to ignore him and go back to my cooking. I’m working with the flour when I remember.
“You made me stop One Direction. That is a crime.”
“I seriously don’t get your obsession over them; they’re a commercial boy band.” He saysboy bandas if it’s the worst thing in the world, but they’re awesome. In general, their bond, dance moves — or lack of — and harmonies are just chef’s kiss. He is getting on my nerves… No one says that about my boy bands.
“Put it back on.” I point to the stereo, sighing.
“What’s the magic word?”
I pretend to think about it for a second, and then I grin. “Now?”
He raises his eyebrows as if telling me I’m impossible. “I’m going to put the music back on, only because of my good heart. And because it is your house.”
I smile cheerfully. He puts the music back on, and since I stopped it at the chorus, the wordsRock Meare filling the kitchen. I instantly start to sing/yell too, and seconds later, the kitchen door bursts open, and Paige appears.
“You were singing without me?” She asks, offended.
“Of course not! This was just a warm-up.” I explain. It should be annoying that Paige follows me everywhere, and honestly, if somebody had asked me if I liked having a younger cousin being my shadow all day, I wouldn’t stand it, but that was before she existed. Paige just heals my inner child somehow and always makes me smile, so I could never be annoyed by that. Paige andI sing along, and she, because of the many, many times she hears 1D per day with me, knows all the melodies. When the song ends, I figure I should probably introduce Paige to the random boy in the kitchen, who has been watching us put on a show, shaking his head. It’s not as if they haven’t met before, but they have only been together at dinners, and she was and is too young to remember that.
“Paige, this is Jake.” His name feels weird in my mouth. Bittersweet. She looks at me with excitement, and the words that were about to come out of her mouth were, at the very least, catastrophic.
