Page 97 of Game Point
Oliver jumped into action, pulling the pan off the heat. I could only laugh as I sat down again, watching himpanicking, flailing around while he attempted to save dinner.
Radley, my physio, came back into the living room, her large equipment bag thrown over her shoulder. ‘I’m getting out of here before you guys have a domestic. Remember to do those exercises, Dylan.’
‘She will,’ Oliver said, dinner apparently saved.
‘I can speak for myself, dude,’ I bit back. My attention turning to Radley, ‘I’ll try.’
Oliver turned, a stony look cemented across his features. ‘Shewill.’
I rolled my eyes, ignoring him, smiling politely at my physiotherapist. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘See you! Bye,’ she called, her voice light with humour as she left. I headed over towards the TV to grab the controller, when I heard Oliver shouting again from behind me.
‘Oi! Get back on the couch.’
I didn’t even turn back to him as I continued to limp over towards where I could see it sitting. ‘I’m getting the TV remote.’
‘I could’ve got it for you.’
‘It’s like two metres away and you are supposed to be cooking. Although God knows why since it will probably be horrible.’
‘It will be edible,’ he promised. ‘Now sit down, and I’ll bring it over when it’s done.’
This time I did as he said, not wanting to push Oliver any further. It was fair to say I’d driven him mad enough already today.
After some swearing and chaotic noises of irritationfrom the kitchen, Oliver made his way over with two plates of food, presenting an attempt at chicken and rice. Suspiciously, I eyed the meat.
‘Is it …’ I began, looking from my plate to his, ‘supposed to be this colour?’
‘It’s cooked.’
I scraped at the surface. ‘It’s black.’
‘I think it’s the seasoning.’
‘What’s the seasoning?’ I joked. ‘Charcoal?’
‘Just pick out the bad bits. It’s not all like this.’
I nodded, unconvinced. I decided to cut off the burned part, cutting the meat apart.
‘Um, Oliver.’ I said, watching him as he pushed his food around his plate, looking equally unsure. ‘Don’t eat that.’
‘Why not?’
‘ ’Cause it’s still pink.’ I said, turning the fork around, revealing the chicken uncooked in the middle.
Oliver sighed angrily, lifting his plate from his lap and putting it on the coffee table, as if he couldn’t stand to be near his failure any longer. ‘How on earth is it burntandraw?’
‘I don’t know but this feels like some sort of new low with our cooking skills.’
‘Yeah, we need to stop trying. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to serve you literal death on a plate.’
His hand went to my plate to take it away from me, but my hand found his, catching his attention. I held his gaze, ‘You know I’m grateful for everything, right?’
‘I haven’t done anything,’ he rasped, but I only shook my head.
‘That’s bullshit, and you know it,’ I replied, my voicesoftening again as I continued. ‘I thought I was done for. I was injured, and you pulled me up off the ground yet again,’ I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
