❛ 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. ❜
❛ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭. ❜
⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
"We see you!" His voice pierces the air, igniting a burst of adrenaline within me.
Just as I take...
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"Are you alright, Domenic?" I ask, noticing the strain in his attempt to suppress a cough.
His eyes start to water and he nods, pursing his lips together.
Mummy and Baba are trying so hard to hold in their laughter, but it's obviously failing.
I don't know what she thought about putting so much spice into his egusi soup.
The man's immune system is going to be so screwed up after this.
I mean, he can barely take it when I add some hot pepper flakes to our meals.
Why did he think she or anyone else think that he'd be able to handle all of this?
No matter how much of a man he is, he was raised by authentic white people.
It's not his fault he grew up in a western household, it's just that their foods are often seasoned lightly, prioritizing salt over spice.
"I'm fine," he says, lightly hitting his chest. "It's just a little," he says, blowing out a breath.
"Hot, that's all." His eyes start to water.
Just a little hot?
This poor man is turning red, like a tomato.
If I don't get him something to drink soon he's going to explode.
I shake my head and stare at him some more. "Are you sure you don't want me to grab some orange juice for you?"
"Orange juice?" He looks at me as if I were crazy, but the way to cure that is to drink some acidic water to counteract the feeling. "Don't you have milk or something?" he asks.
"You know milk is not good for you," I tell him.
He shakes his head and tries to take a cooling breath. "Abidemi, I love you, but I feel like my face is going to burn off." He groans, wiping the sweat off his face with a napkin.
"So you know, could I please get that orange juice, milk, or whatever will help me?"
I chuckle. "Alright, I'll get it, you big baby."
He thanks me, and I get up and go to the fridge to grab him some juice, then hand it to him.
He quickly drinks it, and I can see him starting to cool down.
"It's not like I didn't warn you about that chili," I tease, sitting back down.
He shakes his head, catching his breath. "You said it was mild."
"To me it is," I reply, shrugging.
He rolls his eyes at me, annoyed. "You know, next time, just give me the spice warning level based on the average person, not the Abidemi scale."
I laugh, "Noted."
He takes another gulp of the orange juice. "And maybe next time, keep the milk ready just in case."
