But I didn’t give him the chance. Grinning, I reached into the bag of flour. “I see how it is,” I said, tossing a pinch of flour at him.
He blinked in shock as the flour dusted his shoulder. “You did not just...”
“Oh, I did,” I said, scooping up another handful.
“You’ve declared war.”
“Correction, I accepted your challenge.”
That was it. All bets were off.
Faster than I expected, Oliver reached for the bag. I sidestepped, narrowly dodging what would’ve been a face full of flour. My counterattack landed square on his chest. “Bullseye!” I yelled triumphantly.
Flour flew everywhere. The air went hazy white, catching in the light like we were trapped in a snow globe mid-shake. My entire front was dusted over. His too.
“Okay, okay!” I said. “Truce, before we both suffocate or summon a chaos demon or something.”
Oliver froze mid-throw. He looked down at the disaster we’d created on the counters, and floor, and every innocent nearby appliance. “We made such a mess.”
“Worth it. I mean, look at this teamwork. This is peak bonding activity right here. Level one housemate initiation complete. Achievement unlocked.”
“Yeah, well, you’re on your own for cleanup.”
“Hey now, you threw first! This is a joint crime scene.”
“Yes,” he said, smirking. “And I’m the one recovering. I’m supposed to be relaxing. Weren’t those your exact orders?”
Ah, hell. Reality clicked back in. “Crap, you’re right. Okay, deal. I’m on full-scale cleanup duty once we finish these pretzels and get them in the oven. You, my friend, are officially benched. No lifting, no bending. Not even a finger.”
“Luke, I wasn’t serious.” He glanced around, half smiling. “I’m not going to leave you to clean this up on your own. That hardly seems fair.”
“I’m sure it’ll balance out down the line,” I said. “These things always do. And who’s keeping score anyway? If it makes you feel better, you can oversee the job, boss me around, tell my how crappy my technique is.”
“As enticing an offer as that is, how about you cover the floor, and I’ll handle anything within upright reach.”
Hmm. Stubborn streak. I could respect that. He wanted to be useful, I got it. If moving around a little helped him feel normal again, I wouldn’t fight him on it.
“Alright,” I said with a nod. “That’s reasonable. We can clean up this disaster zone while the pretzels are baking.”
“Glad you can see reason,” Oliver said.
Cheeky. I dug it.
“Man, look at us. Tackling the next hurdle, housemate negotiations. I told you I had a good feeling about this arrangement.”
He rolled his eyes, but I caught the hint of amusement he tried to hide.
“Seriously, though, we didn’t get too carried away, did we? You didn’t hurt anything?”
“No, I’m fine,” he said. “A little sore maybe, but as my new housemate might say... worth it.”
Brushing off my shirt, I said, “Well, now that we’ve both risked our lives in the Great Flour Uprising, care to enlighten me on the sacred art of the pretzel twist before I invent some new pastry abomination?”
“Alright, let me show you how it’s done,” Oliver said.
Guiding me step by step, he demonstrated again how to roll the dough. I mirrored him as best I could. This time the result resembled an actual pretzel, even if one loop sat askew.
“Look at that,” Oliver said, leaning in to inspect it. “It’s almost respectable. Almost.”
