You, Me and a Bed Makes Three

You, Me and a Bed Makes Three (28)

- Working Hard or Hardly Working -

Shaun had remained quiet for the rest of the film. He just laid on top of me with his eyes focused on nothing but the TV. If I didn't know him so well I would have thought he was really into the film but I knew that glazed look far too well. He was thinking hard about something. Maybe it was Nicky? What ever it was I wasn't going to push. He would tell me if and when he wanted. He rarely kept secrets from me.

“so what's for dinner?” I asked expectantly.

“you actually hungry?” he asked curious.

I guess I was expecting this. After all I didn't really eat much these days but recently I found myself eating a lot. I nodded with a smile.

“cool. What do you fancy?” he said getting up and switching the TV off.

Now that he was off me I stretched. I was laying kind of awkward from when he tackled me but it was comfortable, in a way. “don't mind, what ever.” I shrugged.

Now that Shaun was off me Scrappy jumped up looking rather smug at Shaun as he circled getting comfortable. I rolled my eyes as I ruffled his fur. Strange little animal.

“pasta?” Shaun offered, choosing to ignore Scrappy's display.

“sure. Want any help?”

“nah I think I'll be fine. Besides you burnt the pasta last time!” he reminded me with a cocky grin.

“you never said I had to add more water.” I retorted as he left the room.

The one thing I can't do and he always throws it in my face. It's not my fault I cant cook, I just get impatient and distracted. I hate waiting around for things it's so boring. Life would be so much easier if it just happened with a click of your fingers.

'Snap' and a whole roast would appear.

Now that would be cool.

I shifted Scrappy off my lap, making him look up at me with hurt in his eyes. That look almost made me sit back down. Almost. But instead I made my way to the kitchen and propped myself up on one of the stools to watch Shaun cook.

He turned and smiled at me before going back to the pasta. “so I hear your going to be in school the next few days.” he said casually.

“yeah, helping out with the year eights I think.” I said indifferent.

“what sort of thing you doing?” he asked curious as he cut up some tomatoes.

I watched as he carefully cut them. So much concentration on his face it was funny. His tongue threatening to poke out of his mouth as he went. When he was done he looked up at me expectantly. Oh right yeah he asked me something.