It had been a few days since I crept into Dion’s room, had sex with him, then left. I wasn’t sure why I avoided him since then, but I had. He had given me free reign of the house, but I had been staying in my room unless I left out to eat. My thoughts and emotions had been everywhere, and I needed space to process them. Something transpired between us, but I didn’t know what. The whole thing about my father still confused me. The more I thought about him, the angrier I got. For him to be so tough, he didn’t seem like it since he still hadn’t rescued me. I was at the stage where I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him to.
Since Dion left early in the morning, I got up and cleaned the house a little. It wasn’t dirty; I just needed something to occupy my time with besides watching TV and coloring. I found some candles in one of the closets and lit them.
The fridge and cabinets were stocked, so I decided to cook dinner. I figured it was the least I could do to show my gratitude for him not killing me. I laughed to myself because that thought had left my mind a while ago. There was no way he would have kept me alive all this time if he wanted me dead. He still hadn’t been clear on why he still kept me here, and I stopped asking. I hadn’t even gotten smart with him like I did in the beginning.
I wish he would have left my phone so I could listen to music while I cooked, but that probably would have been pushing it. It was just too quiet, so I turned the television in the living room on and found a music station. I blasted it while I prepared ribs, collard greens, baked beans, and cornbread. It surprised me that he had as much food as he had because it seemed like when he fed me, he was giving me the same things almost every day. I would have baked a cake, but I didn’t have the ingredients for it. There was some ice cream in the freezer, so we would have that for dessert. I also made lemonade.
While I cooked, I prayed that he liked what I did. I wasn’t trying to impress him, but I didn’t want to set him off either since we had been making good progress.
“You got it smelling good in here.”
I jumped when I heard Dion come into the kitchen. I guess I couldn’t hear him over the music playing.
“You scared the shit out of me. Sorry about the television being so loud.”
“You good. What are you making?” he asked as he walked closer to me at the stove.
“I made ribs and some sides with cornbread. I’m just waiting for the cornbread to get done.”
“That’s what’s up. I’m going to wash up, then I’ll be back down to eat with you, if that’s okay.”
A pang hit my stomach because the first thing that came to mind when he said to clean up was that he’d been with a woman while he was gone. I did smell a hint of perfume mixed in with his cologne, but it wasn’t my place to ask any questions. I didn’t even have a right to feel any kind of way about it.
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“My mom had me doing all types of shit around her house, so I wanted to shower and change first.”
It was like he knew my inner thoughts or could see them on my face because I hadn’t asked him, and I was unsure of why he told me.
“Oh, okay, cool. I’ll wait for you,” I informed him.
“Thanks. Give me ten.”
He left the kitchen and left me confused. I checked the cornbread, and it still had a couple of minutes left, so I went into the living room and turned the music down. I wasn’t sure if we were going to eat in the dining room or the kitchen, but the music was still loud enough to hear in the background, no matter what room we were in.
Ten minutes later, Dion strolled back into the kitchen wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants.
“Do you only wear black shirts?” I asked as I reached for some plates from the cabinet.
He chuckled and looked down at his shirt. “For the most part. I have some white ones too. Here, let me help you.”
I stood to the side as he grabbed a couple of plates. I bit my bottom lip when his shirt raised a little, showing the waistband of his boxers.
“Thank you. Do you want me to make your plate?”
“No, I’m right here. I hope it tastes good.” He winked and scooped some beans onto his plate.
“It is.”
We ended up in the dining room since I set the table.
“Thank you for this,” he said as he sat down.
“It gave me something to do.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but he cleared his throat and picked up a rib. I wondered what that was about but quickly forgot about it when he lowly moaned. The sound shot straight to the middle of my thighs. I shifted in my seat as I picked upa rib myself. I knew I could cook, but I never had anyone moan because of my food. It made me want to stick out my chest a little.
“These shits are good. Who taught you how to cook?”