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“It’s blunt” he tells me

“I’m sharp enough for both of us” I snark back playfully, he just ignores me and starts searching, presumably for a sharpener. I could save him the time and tell him I don’t have one, but I don’t. Instead I helpfully add “it’s not in there… or there” until he gives up and continues chopping.

“Whatcha making?” I chirp up, irritatingly

“Omelettes”

“Ooh, sounds fancy.” I add, looking around him, peeking over his shoulder and generally being a nuisance. I know I should stop, in my very soul, but it’s fun because he just doesn’t react except maybe stopping to take a deep breath.

I up the ante. Using my first fingers and thumbs I create a frame to look through

“We should make a TikTok of you cooking” he raises his eyebrow at me and carries on “yeah we could call it British Aquaman and his Killer Meal Plan.” I made myself laugh with that one, and I do not hide it. Nik shakes his head looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose. I’m pretty sure I got a smirk for that one. And then he starts aggressively stirring a bowl of eggs.

“Whatcha doing now?”

“Beating the eggs… I knew you couldn’t cook” I decide against making a “beat my eggs” joke even though I’m sure it would land phenomenally. I’m also offended at not being able to cook. I can cook, just not Ritz-fancy.

“Where are your spices?” he asks. I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t actually have spices

“On the bookshelf” I joke but he’s growing weary “sorry, erm, I don’t have any… just pepper… white and black!” trying to salvage myself

“White women” he mutters to himself

“That’s offensive!”

“Okay”

“You can’t say that”

“I did”

“Well you shouldn’t!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s rude! And it generalises people”

“Famously marginalised white people? Does the stereotype about your bland palate… and love of dangerous animals… offend you?”

I scoff, and then blush when I realise what he actually just said. But I press on until eventually he snaps. But, not how I thought he would. He puts his tools down and turns to face me.

My heart stops. Oh shit. Sawyer, what did you just do.

His hands hover just above my waist for a second, and I don’t flinch.

Then his grip firms, and he lifts me. Straight off my feet, and holds me suspended. Flutters. Just everywhere. Flutters. And blushes.

“You are interfering. You are bored and poking. You are trying to tempt a rise that is not going to come.” I just stare into his eyes, I’m not sure I’m even taking in his words right now. “If you want to learn, watch and learn. If you just don’t want to sit on your own, sit here. But I like to cook. Quietly” I nod, mouth open. He gives me a few seconds, still suspended in the air like I don’t weigh a damn thing. Then he sets me down on the worktop. My feet come nowhere near the floor, so they swing free, and when my heel catches a cupboard door he pauses for a second and I immediately stop.

Watching him prepare, whatever he’s preparing, is just mesmerising. I try my luck one more time…

“Pspspsps” he shoots me a look that tells me, in no uncertain terms, to shut up. Hands on the countertop out wide, he looks down, and that, that is a smile. A proper one. Aha! One-nil Sawyer. He hands me half a pepper, deseeded, without looking at me.

“Chew on this, instead”

I’ve never nibbled a pepper before, it’s quite tasty actually. Honestly it’s serving its intended purpose. I have something to do with my hands, and something to occupy my mouth and I just watch him. He’s terrifying, but I’m not terrified. He’s just making a bucketful of food. And I’m just watching. I’m cool with that.

I finish my piece of pepper and I’m just about to chirp up with something, and he hands me a spring onion. I’m not entirely sure I’m happy with this, but it’s quite nice to be just handed snacks. I’m not even sure he’s just tolerating my presence at this point. And who doesn’t want to watch someone who looks like Nik cooking in their kitchen? So I’m enjoying myself, there’s nothing wrong with that. Sue me. And there is nothing in the house rules that says I can’t enjoy the view while I’m here.