Loving Kinnick

Everyone Is Going To Be Eating A Burnt Turkey

I couldn't find anything helpful on the internet for cooking a turkey. I thawed it out overnight in Kinnick's bathtub. I watched my mom do it every year the night before Thanksgiving. Now it's in the oven, and it smells like it is burning.

I investigated, and it seemed to be a piece of brownie that overflowed from the pan. A piece burned on the bottom of the stove. I remember Kinnick making fun of me for forgetting about them. It wasn't my fault he distracted me. He kept calling me to the bedroom, and I thought he was in pain, but it turned out he wanted cuddles.

I didn't know how much of a cuddler Kinnick was until I spent every night with him. He wanted me wrapped in his arms twenty-four-seven. I wasn't sure if it was from the need to protect me, and know I am safe, or something else. I didn't care. I wanted to be in his arms regardless.

A gray haze filled the apartment. Kinnick came in with a fan to clear it out. I can hear him complaining in the living room because it's freezing. Well, that's what happens when you leave it up to your girlfriend to cook, and she doesn't know what she is doing. Every window was open. Our bedroom window, the living room window, and the one in the kitchen.

A draft of cold air rushed through the house, making itself at home as it brisked through. I shivered as it ran up my bare legs. Well, I should have worn something other than a pair of shorts, and Kinnick's t-shirt, but it was starting to become an everyday part of my attire.

Just like every day before this one, it rained. Nothing seemed upsetting or sad about it, really. We were inviting friends over to spend the holiday with us. We were together. And nothing about that seemed anything less than blissful.

Kinnick asked me every few seconds if I was okay. He didn't need to. I told him that. This is the third Thanksgiving I didn't spend with my mom. The anniversary of her death is in a few weeks, only a few days before Christmas. This is the third Thanksgiving I haven't spent with my dad or any family for that matter. He was always working but left money for me to buy takeout. So when I said nothing about today made me upset, I meant it.

John was hosting a dinner at his gym. We were in charge of the turkey. Well, I feel like the turkey is in charge. I don't have a clue what I am doing, and we are supposed to be at the gym by five.

"Baby," he grabbed my cheeks. "Everything is going to be okay."

"No," I rubbed the sweat off of my forehead. "It's Thanksgiving and everyone is going to be eating a burnt turkey."

"It's okay," he kissed my nose. "I'll just find a girlfriend who can cook."

I smacked his shoulder, watching as he winces. "Yeah, don't test me."

He chuckled, sticking his finger in the Apple Pie. "Kinnick Carson! Get your butt out of the kitchen. Nobody wants you sticking your fingers in their pie."

His brows wiggled. "What do you want me sticking my fingers in?"

I grabbed the towel from the counter and smacked him with it. "Get out!"

His laughter followed him to the living room. I still got goosebumps when I heard it. Butterflies still swarmed my stomach when he looked at me. I fell more in love with him the more I spent time with him. The countless love stories I read didn't do relationships justice. Kinnick exceeded any expectation of any man I have ever read about.

I jumped as he peeked around the corner. "Seriously though, the offer is on the table."

"What offer?"

"To have all of this," he motioned to his body.

I rolled my eyes, watching him leave the kitchen. In the hours my dad wasn't home, I spent my time taking things off of the walls, and packing them in small boxes. I wasn't in a rush to move anything, but Miles told me he would help me transfer it from my dad's to Kinnick's place.

Kinnick wanted to come with me. I don't know what he thought he could do with major injuries, and a failure to take his medicine, or follow the rules from his doctor. They said it would be a while until he got into the gym. None of them know Kinnick the way I do. He won't wait.

The only thing I hoped for was my dad's absence when I move. I don't know how he will react. He jumped Kinnick because I didn't listen to him. He thought he was enforcing the rules, and he wasn't.

"Kinnick," I yelled as I looked at the turkey. "We might need to find an alternative for dinner."

He came into the kitchen shirtless. "Why?"

My eyes fell to his chest. "Uh - I."

"What?" He leaned against the stove.

Was it odd to say he looked hot with bruises on his abdomen? I could see the outline of his ribs by the purple scattering his sides. Black ink covered his chest. Pieces of art were etched into his skin, and I wanted to run my fingers over every inch.

I sucked in a deep breath as he moved closer. "Did you mess it up that bad that you can't talk?"

My hands were on his chest. "Something like that. What do I do?"

He opened the oven door. "Babe, it looks fine."

"It's turning brown!"

"Golden brown," he kissed my forehead. "I need to take a shower. I'll be back."

"Okay," I sucked in a deep breath.

"We have to leave here in a few hours. When are you going to get ready?"

I groaned. "I don't even know what I am going to wear."

As he got in the shower, I searched through my bags of clothes, trying to find something to wear. My skirts, dresses, pants, and shirts were scattered all over his king-sized bed. I tried on a combination of things, trying to figure out what looked better. When I couldn't figure it out, I found myself doing my hair

Kinnick walked into the bedroom with a towel hanging dangerously low on his waist. I let the straightener pass through my hair, but the smoke growing in the room, made me realized I was burning my curls.

"Babe!"

I pulled it away instantly. "Crap!"

"What is your deal?" He laughed.

"I'm just stressed."

"Everything is going to be okay."

He pulled on a pair of shorts as I was finishing up the last piece of my hair. I swiped on red lipstick, allowing myself to take the time I needed to perfect it. The highlighter on my cheeks was bright. It seemed to shine brighter in the dark when the light barely hit it.

I hung up the outfit I picked out - a nude wrap dress that appeared to look like a coat and red high heels. Until it was time to get ready, I slipped into one of Kinnick's shirts. It was crazy how much I started wearing his clothes instead of my own. When I wore them, I didn't need pants. It was easier and comfortable.

He stayed in the living room as I shoved the green bean casserole into the oven. We had an hour until we had to be there, and the Turkey was close to done. According to Google, and the temperature it should be at when it's finished. But I didn't know. As I said, I've never done this.

"If you keep opening the oven door, it's never going to get done."

"Well, I have to keep it moist."

He smacked my butt as I leaned in the oven. "Love you."

"I'm going to get you back!"

"If you smack my butt, I'll kick your ass. Broken ribs or not."

"I'll tie you up and lock you in the bedroom," I turned around to look at him.

"Please," he backed me into the kitchen counter. "I would love to know what else you're going to do."

I gulped as his lips hovered above mine. "What has gotten into you?"

He motioned to the air. "I think it was the smoke. I'm feeling a little woozy."

"Really?" My brows furrowed in concern.

"Of course. I'm high on your love, darling."