Page 27 of A Fowl Match

Chapter 17

Violet

Flourcoversmyclothes.My fingers sting from where I burnt them against the side of the pan. I set the lasagna to cool on the counter and started to make dough for breadsticks and needed some more counter space. Of course, I forgot it was hot and tried to push it over. My burned pointer finger and thumb have my brain to thank for that one. I mumbled profanities under my breath and ran my hand under some cold water which temporarily eased the pain, but now it tingles.

I could have made this whole little “I’ll provide dinnertext” a lot easier on myself and ordered something from the diner. But I’ve been in the mood for Italian for weeks, so it was a no-brainer to make something myself. I thought it would be a walk in the park. I always make homemade bread, pasta dishes, and desserts. Olive taught me a lot of her recipes. But the fact that he said lasagna is his favorite food makes me so nervous for his reaction.

I’ve been a ball of nerves ever since he said,It’s a date?I know he didn’t mean it that way, but I’m getting used to being friends. I wouldn’t know how to juggle more.

The timer for the breadsticks goes off and I pull them out of the oven, taking extra care with the oven mitts so that I don’t slip up again. The entire spread is finished. Lasagna, breadsticks, a side salad, and my award-winning turtle brownie cheesecake. Okay maybe I’m stretching the truth a little, but Olive thinks that, so it must be, she's an amazing baker.

The clock reads five after six. I plop on the couch to wait. If this were a date, I might have checked in the mirror to fix my crazy hair or changed my clothes to some that aren’t covered in flour, maybe even put on my nice jeans. Instead, I am in an oversized purple T-shirt that has an image of a chicken that says, “I may look calm, but in my mind I’ve pecked you three times.” My black leggings are covered in flour dust; I have one sock that is red with chickens on it and another that is yellow with cats on my feet. My apartment is small but efficient. The place is mostly an open concept, the decorating style I was going for was biophilic. The living room and kitchen are connected as soon as you open the door. The island in the kitchen serves as the table, with three bar stools for seating. The couch faces a television in the corner of the room. A bookshelf next to the couch houses hundreds of novels from Cat’s & Novel’s. My bedroom is to the back with an ensuite bathroom. The walls all match the fern green downstairs. There are macrame covered hanging baskets everywhere filled with ferns, spider plants, snake grass, and succulents. Plant stands sit in every open corner housing clay pots filled with anthurium, peace lilies, and aloe vera. In the daylight the natural lighting brightens up the space, making it look much larger than it truly is.

A knock sounds on my door. “Come in!” I yell over the song, “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauperin thebackground. Dustin enters my apartment carrying a cheese tray in his arms. His presence makes me feel at ease. He’s dressed in a pair of dark jeans, black tennis shoes, and a corduroy forest green button down. The intro to the song “Careless Whisper” plays in my mind. His face is now covered in scruff that has grown in over the few weeks since I met him. He cleans up nicely, meanwhile I look like I crawled out of a dumpster after deciding to go for a swim in it. Or I could compare my hairstyle to someone who sat in the back of a convertible with their hair down and the wind blew it in every direction for an hour. Then they tried to fix it by putting it in a bun. But it does nothing to make the situation any better. It looks like one big messy clump of hair. “Stupid,” I whisper under my breath, praying the ground will swallow me whole.

“What’s that?” Dustin says when he makes his way to the love seat across from the couch after setting the tray on my island.

“Oh nothing, just talking to my cat. Fiona, come meet Grumpy,” I call out to her. She comes trudging out from the bedroom looking excited.

“I didn’t know you had a cat?” he says, bewildered. Like the thought of me taking care of something other than a plant is a shock.

“Yep.” My eyes widen when she jumps directly on his lap, purring and nudging her head against his hand. Then she has the audacity to roll onto her back with her belly up. “Traitor.” I roll my eyes at the sight. My own cat is crossing to the dark side, and there is nothing I can do about it.

“I can’t help it, I’m lovable,” he jokes.

“Keep telling yourself that.” I roll my eyes.

“So, you want to peck me three times?”

“What?”

“Your shirt. Unless you thought I meant something different, you could do that too.” He chuckles and winks.

“Oh, I forgot about the shirt. Absolutely not.” My face is completely red from embarrassment.

“Your face tells a different story,” he points out.

“Let's eat and discuss a plan of action for the treasure hunt on Saturday.” I hop up and slide on my fuzzy camo crocs. Because why not make this look worse while I’m at it?

“I love your outfit. Where did you get the shirt? I want to get one so we can match on our treasure hunt.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but I got everything at Chloe’s Closetright next to Rooster’s. You know just in case you want the socks, furry crocs, and leggings.”

“I’ll have to get the leggings when I grab a shirt.”

“You know we can’t wear just any shirt; it has to at least have our names on the back.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He grins devilishly. I wonder what he’s conspiring.

We make our plates and they are both filled to the brim with steaming food. My mouth waters at the sight.

“Wow. This is delicious. And you remembered this was my favorite,” he says while chewing.

“Thanks, I think that was the first compliment you ever gave me. And yes, how could I forget, it was one of the first random facts I learned about you,” I say, taking a big bite of a breadstick.

“Don’t get used to it. That was a slip up.” He chuckles while chewing on more lasagna. “What other random facts did you pick up on?”

“One, you love to solve a puzzle even though you deny it. Two, you have an annoying streak with texting. Three, you’re a foodie just like me. Admit it. And four, I think you secretly love it here and don’t want to leave.”

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