Page 73 of Change My Mind
Addie shook her head. “No, I’m serious. I make dinner every day. We don’t eat lunch a lot of the time in the flat, and you make breakfast. Well, you toast bread, and you are very good at it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cook in this kitchen.”
“I made you pasta!”
Weeks ago.
She pushed herself up to sit on the island. “I didn’t see you make that, though. It was in the fridge when I arrived. I have no proof that you made the greatest pesto I have ever tasted.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, not missing the way her eyes zeroed in on my arms.
“Are you doubting my abilities?”
She shook her head. “No. I was in the kitchen that day. I’ve seen you in action. I know my parents didn’t hire a dud. It’s just funny, that’s all. So, what’s the secret to your pancakes?”
“If I tell you, then it’s not a secret,” I said as I reached for the bowl of batter and turned back to the hob. I finally turned on the heat and waited for the butter in the pan to melt.
“Oh, come on! I can keep a secret.”
I poured some batter into the pan and moved it around to form an imperfect circle before turning to look at her.
“It’s just a simple pancake batter. There is no secret. Flour, eggs, sugar, a bit of butter and some salt.”
Addie’s eyes narrowed.
“You didn’t list milk. What did you use instead?”
I hummed, pretending to think about it, knowing that I had purposefully omitted an ingredient. “Okay, so maybe I do have a secret.”
I checked on the pancake, flipping it and letting the other side cook.
She jumped down from the island. My T-shirt slipped off her shoulder. “Elij—Eli! What did you use instead?”
I fought a smile at how annoyed she sounded and then realised something else. She almost called me by my full name.
And the idea of her doing it didn’t hurt the way I thought it would. “You can do it, you know.”
She frowned. “Do what?”
“Use my full name. You were basically the only person who refused to use it, so I highly doubt you calling me Elijah when I’ve annoyed you is going to make me want to curl up in a ball and cry about the family that no longer loves me.”
She blew out a long breath between pursed lips. “Fuck, that was dark. I didn’t mean to do it anyway. It won’t be a habit.”
“Well, if the mood ever strikes you. It’s fine.” I picked up a spatula and removed the pancake from the pan, putting it on a nearby plate. Almost perfect. “So, I can add chocolate chips or blueberries to this batter. Or do you want them plain and then load them up how you want?”
She stepped up next to me, her bare shoulder brushing against mine, and broke off a piece of pancake, popping it in her mouth and chewing it slowly.
“Can you split the batter and do both?” she asked once she swallowed.
I could do anything she asked.
“If that’s what you want.”
She broke off another piece. “I think I would like that,” she said around her mouthful.
I grabbed another bowl. “Consider it done.”
She swallowed and narrowed her eyes. “What the fuck do you use if it’s not milk?”
I smirked as I split the batter. “You really hate not knowing, don’t you?”
