Where is Happily Ever After? (Lesbian Story)

3.

Emily

                 

''What did you do?'' I yelled over the smoke alarm when I got to the kitchen. There was a lot of thick smoke and a very sad looking Stella with a pan in hand.

''I was cooking,'' she yelled over the smoke alarm, too.

I got a chair from under the dining table and stood on it to reach the alarm. I detached it from the ceiling and turned it off.

''What the hell did you try to cook?'' I was laughing a little because she looked like a lost puppy. She threw the pan in the sink whit the spatula like a little kid not getting what she wanted and pouted. She looked so adorable. Her red hair was cascading down her back with beautiful curls reaching in the middle of her back.

''Pancakes!'' She sounded disappointed with herself. She turned to face me leaning her back against the counter and crossed her hands on her chest. She looked like she had gotten scolded.

''Can you cook? I have only seen you eating salads and frozen foods.'' As I think back what I have seen her eat, it has been cold salads and microwaveable food only.

''Not really, I always burn things or they are literally uneatable,'' she turns around again and takes the pan starting to clean it.

''Can you cook?'' She asks, peering at me over her shoulder.

''I like to think so, yes.'' My mother taught me. Well not literally. She was always at work so I had to learn how to cook. Eating pizza every night was getting boring. My dad had no idea how to use the stove so it was all on me.  So in some ways it is like my mother taught me to cook.

''I need to learn, otherwise I might starve,'' she joked.

''How about I cook and you clean the kitchen after?'' I have an idea. I cook for myself every nigh so it would not be any trouble. And I do hate cleaning after myself.

''Like every night?'' she questions leaning her behind against the counter again while drying her hands.

''Yeah, I cook for myself anyway and I hate to clean.'' I confess. She looks like she is thinking about it and a smile appears on her face.

''Agreed. I can manage cleaning.'' She reached a hand to me and we shook on it. We both smile, her brown eyes looking into my green ones.

''So should we make pancakes?'' I ask, letting her hand go.

''Sure, but we need to go to the store, because I just burned the ingredients,'' she says smiling sheepishly.

''Alright, let's take my car. Meet you at the front door in five?''

''Sure.'' She spins around and I find myself staring at her flawless figure once again.

She really was awful at it. I tried to teach her a little. At first she was hopeless but she actually managed to not burn pancakes the next time. When she was home she always sat on the kitchen counter when I cooked. She said she was learning, but mostly she was procrastinating from her school work. But I didn't mind, I liked her sitting there asking me what was I doing.