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Dirty pans and pots were on the kitchen sink.

The temperature of the stove was medium-high while the pasta was cooking. The kitchen counter was dirty with flour. Two untouched eggs were on top of the counter.

Julia's hair was in a messy bun to get her hair out of her way; it bothered her every time she looked down.

A tired Steve stretched his arms as he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he saw chaos.

Julia was washing the dishes while the pasta was bubbling, water bouncing off the pot and into the stove with a sizzling sound. 

Steve quickly walked to the stove and turned it off at the same time that Julia dropped the pan that she was washing back in the sink. "Thank you. Can you check if the pasta is ready," she asked as she continued to wash the dishes wanting the kitchen to be a bit cleaner.

He looked at her and then at the pot "uh, how do you do that again," he asked, embarrassed.

"If it's still hard, it needs more time."

Burning his fingertips, Steve slowly moved his hand down to the pot and grabbed the pasta.

He released it quickly, splashing "it's soft," he said, holding his hand to his chest.

Julia dried her hands "did you burn your finger."

Steve shook his head, "I'm good," he responded, looking away from her. "Let me see" She moved around him to face him.

"Julia, I'm fine," he insisted. "Besides, why are you doing all of this," he asked with his lightly burned hand pointing around them.

She grabbed his hand since he was distracted, looking at the cookies that were next to the stove.

She inspected his fingertips. They were a reddish color and slightly warm.

She held his hand and dragged him to the sink, where she opened the faucet with cold water.

"Your parents are coming today, remember," she said as she lightly moved his hand under the running water. Steve hissed the cold water, surprising him.

Steve's parents were finally coming over to their own house to see their son. They were on a three week business trip outside of the state then they decided they were tired of working and wanted a vacation now they were coming back.

"Right, my parents," he said, not sounding enthusiastic.

"I don't know what they like to eat, so I made everything I know," Julia said shyly, turning off the faucet.

This was the Harringtons household; she was a guest, and many might think that the guest is the one that doesn't do anything around the house, but her father taught her differently.

She always felt like a visitor in her own home or more like an intruder. She had to make sure that everything was ready before her father arrived, not wanting to upset him, so she woke up early in the morning to cook for the Harringtons.

They were going to be tired from their trip, and she didn't know how they were going to take the news.

He faced her, "Julia, you don't need to worry about my parents."

She lifted her gaze, her blue eyes connecting at his brown ones. "I'm nervous," she said honestly.

"What if they want me here in their house? What if they hate me? What if they hate my food?" her eyes widened "wait, are your parents allergic to something" she looked at all the food frantically. 

He placed his hands on her cheeks, making her look at him. "My parents wont kick you out of the house. They are not going to hate you. Your food is great, and they will love it."

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