asset [h.s.]

twenty seven // the way to a man's heart

A.N.
Told you guys exciting things would be happening in the next few chapters;)

Alicia

Once we get back to the house, Harry and I pack away all of the shopping, splitting up different items to go in the freezer, fridge or in the cupboard. When I turn around after organising one of the cupboards, I discover that Harry has covered the kitchen island with all the ingredients I need for the meal I suggested I would cook tonight. Harry himself is leaning against the table, watching me with an amused expression.

"Are you serious about this?" I ask him with a small sigh, my eyes scanning over the ingredients.

"It was your idea, remember?" Harry reminds me, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah but.....it was more of an impulsive suggestion."

Harry shrugs, clearly not caring about my excuses. "That's too bad, for you," he says and I lift my head to shoot him a glare. "Happy cooking. Call me when it's ready, yeah?"

And with one final flash of a smirk, he turns on his heel and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me stood alone. I shake my head, not able to believe that he's leaving me to do this by myself. Whenever he's cooked for us, I've helped, or at least I've offered to, but he's just such a massive control freak that I would usually just leave him to get on with it for both of our sakes.

Nevertheless, I decide that I can do this. I mean, how hard can it be, really? I've watched Carla, the housekeeper my father hired, cook hundreds of times and it doesn't seem that difficult to pick up. Granted, my skills in the kitchen stretch about as far as making noodles or anything I can just throw in the oven, but I'm prepared to try. Blowing out a small puff of air from my lips, I reach up to tie my hair into a high ponytail so it's out of my face, deciding to get started.

As I grab any other utensils I need, like a chopping board which I spend a good 10 minutes looking for, I can't help but feel a small pang of hurt in my chest as I think about Carla. I haven't really thought about her until now and I'm only just releasing how much I miss her. Seeing as my mum died when I was young and I barley ever saw my father because of his hectic work schedule, Carla was really the only constant parental figure in my life. She would always ask me how my day was when I got home and actually took an interest in what classes I was taking or what was happening in my life, and although they were simple gestures, they meant a lot to me because it's something my own father never bothered to do.

I sniff furiously and shake my head to rid myself of the thoughts, not wanting to cry, although I suppose I could blame it on the onions I'm chopping. Pushing away any other thoughts and deciding to concentrate on what I'm doing, I use a knife to slide the onions into the pan which I had already put oil into, turning up the heat a little more. While that's cooking, I begin to peel a garlic clove and then rummage around in the draws for a garlic crusher, feeling triumphant when I finally find one after looking through every drawer in the kitchen.

I can hear the faint noise of the TV from where Harry is in the living room, trying to figure out what it is he's watching but it's too quiet to hear. I can't help but sigh at the thought of Harry sitting back with his feet up while I'm here doing this. Even though, in theory, cooking isn't really that hard, especially if only preparing a simple meal like I am, I just don't like the logistics of it. There are multiple things that you need to be in control of at all times so nothing burns or goes wrong, which is probably why Harry enjoys cooking seeing as he likes to have control over everything.