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"So, it just comes naturally to you?" she asked in a snarky voice. She yanked her bag off the floor and pulled it over her good shoulder.
"I guess so," he snapped back, shrugging as he folded his arm and laid it over his eyes. "I just don't know how to talk to you."
"You don't need to. Problem solved," she muttered under her breath as she pulled open his door and slammed it behind her.
She leaned on the door and crossed her arms, silently groaning. Why did she say all that? She just wanted to thank him, but instead, she freaked out and started an argument. What was it with Blaine that just put her on edge every time they were together?
She shook her head. Why was she worried about what Blaine thought of her?
She stomped down the stairs, set on the task of grabbing her shoes and getting the hell out of there.
"Morning. Did you sleep well?" Corbus asked when she reached the bottom of the stairs. He sat at the dining room table with a mug of coffee.
She stopped short, surprised to see the now de-speckled boy at the table. She had yet to ask him whether his glasses were for reading or a different reason. She pulled out her hair tie and ran her fingers through her hair. "Would you like to help me with breakfast?"
He looked at her skeptically. "Are you sure you don't want to ask Caspar?"
"I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want your help," she teased as she turned towards the pantry. "What are you hungry for?"
She felt him come up beside her. "Do you know how to do pancakes?"
She nodded and they got to work together. She mixed up the batter and showed him how to pour it into the pan without making a mess.
"Can I try?" Corbus asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"Here, I'll show you."
She handed him the spatula and switched places with him. She wrapped her right hand around the hand that was holding the spatula and rested her other hand on his back as she guided him. His hand was warm, and she was suddenly aware of how sweaty her palm must have been from holding the spatula before. She guided his hand so he could slip the edge of the spatula under the bubbling batter in the pan. Together, they flipped it and Corbus hissed when it didn't land perfectly. After it cooked for another few seconds, they moved it to the waiting plate.
Mykie turned her head to congratulate him, but her words died on her lips.
They were only inches apart since she was practically pressed against him. He let go of the spatula, allowing it to hit the pan. She was left with her hand wrapped around his. The moment she started to draw it away, he turned his hand over. She could feel how sweaty his palm was as well and it made her feel less nervous, in a way. His grey eyes were watching her every move and she felt his fingers move under her hand until his fingers slipped between hers.
The action was sweet, but not practical as they were cooking. She brought his hand up to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it before she unattached her hand, hoping that he wouldn't be offended. Feeling slightly bold, she slipped behind him again and kissed his shoulder blade before leaning her chin on his right shoulder.
"I'm sorry again that our date last night didn't work out the way we both planned," she murmured in his ear.
"I'm just happy I got to see you now," he said, turning around until he was facing her. "I'm sorry too for how I was reacting last night. I guess I've just been jealous of the time you've spent with the other guys, and finding out everyone else knew something other than me just made me say some ugly things."
"I was pretty upset when I found out about the Cantil the first time, too."
"Really?"
"I was really young when I lost my parents and Chance took me in. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that if my parents trusted their only child to Chance, he must be a good guy. It took me a long time to really trust him, but I was angry when I found out that he was keeping such a secret from me."
"How did your parents die, if you don't mind me asking?"
Mykie crossed her arms and peered down at her feet. Should she tell him? "I never heard the actual, medical reason for their death, but they were murdered by Vultures. I don't know why my parents were ever so close to them, but one thing I've learned is that the Vultures are nothing but deranged, obsessive creatures that stop at nothing to hurt people. They don't just kill their victims, but instead play with them before torturing the information they want out of someone. I could never trust a Vulture."
A voice in the back of her head asked if she'd say the same thing if Blaine was a Vulture. She pushed the voice out of her brain. By definition, Blaine wouldn't fit in. He'd logically be an outcast if he was one of them.
"When were you told about the Cantil? You didn't resent them because of what happened to your parents?"
Mykie sighed. "I have to trust that my parents had a reason to be there that night. I remember parts of that night, and I do recall that my father walked into that job with little hope of coming back. He wasn't the kind of man that would leave his wife behind, so in a way, when I overheard the way he was speaking, I knew it was the last chance I'd have to see him. I just wish I could have talked to him before he left that night."
She then changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the past for too long. "So, what's your plan for the day?"
"I have an art class in an hour, so I should probably head out soon after I eat," he explained as he grabbed a pancake. "What about you?"
