Life: the unpredictable roller coaster of existence.
After a year of defeats and victories, Dean and Blake are about to take yet another year, now as third-year university students.
As if that alone wasn't bound to be a challenge, their world is t...
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Blake nudged the door open with his hip, carefully balancing the tray laden with dirty dishes as he made his way into the fragrant kitchen. His footsteps scuffed against the tiled floor, determined not to trip over his own feet.
"Blake, we agreed that someone else could handle trays that full."
"They're all busy." He didn't look up at his mom, too focused on staring down the tower of dishes. Perhaps intimidation was the key. "But I'm almost there."
"Don't go tempting fate."
With a few more cautious steps the tray found its place on the counter. His mother gave a melodramatic sigh of relief and he laughed, turning to the stove where she attended to various pots and pans.
"Thank you, thank you." He bowed.
"Great job, honey. It almost looks like you've been doing this for years."
"It's a gift."
A muffled chuckle came from the other side of the kitchen. Without even thinking, Blake looked over to Ahmed, who stood on top of a cleared counter, fiddling with the broken cupboard door.
Almost a month after the brawl at the restaurant the closest Blake had come to interacting with Ahmed was passing each other near the bathroom. Regardless of what Blake might have expected – or feared, he wasn't sure – Ahmed hadn't taken their brief conversation as an opening. They both kept to themselves, although Blake had caught himself stealing a few glances at Ahmed's usual table. Finn too had been acknowledging Ahmed's presence more often, but only to all but glare at him any time he noticed Ahmed was watching either of them.
Their mother, however, seemed to be more willing to talk to him and even let him help around when needed. Apparently, Ahmed was a man of many trades and there was hardly any type of handiwork he couldn't handle.
"Table nine wants three coffees," Skyler said, walking into the kitchen with way too many dishes in their arms for someone so small. Blake motioned he would take care of it while they turned to his mother. "And Linda, Mrs Khatri wants a word with you."
"She always wants the recipes." She tried to sound annoyed, but a small proud smile was on her face as she lowered the heat. "Blake, will you keep an eye on the stove for a moment?"
