Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 30

"The cops will find them" Eve said in an undertone to me as we both stood in the kitchen making pasta. Pasta, apparently, was the new thing that Eve wanted to try. She frowned down at the package of spaghetti, then at the not-yet bubbling pot of water. "Justin's dad and his merry band of assholes, I mean"

"Yeah" I agreed, not because I thought they would, but because, well, it seemed like it was the thing to say. "Want me to warm up the sauce?"

"Do we do that? I mean, it's in a jar, right? Can't you just dump it over the pasta?" Eve asks.

"Well you can, but it tastes better if you warm it up" I said.

"Oh" Eve said. "This is complicated. No wonder I never cook"

"You make breakfast!" I argue.

"I make two things: bacon and eggs. And sometimes sandwiches. I hate cooking. Cooking reminds me of my mother" Eve took another pot from the rack and banged it down onto the massive stove. "Here"

I struggled with the top of the spaghetti sauce jar, and finally got it to release with a pop. "You think they're going to stay mad at each other?" I asked.

"Micheal and Justin?" She asked.

"Mhm" I said, as I plopped the sauce into the pot, chunky and wet and vaguely nauseating. I considered the second jar, decided that if two of four of them were boys, more was better. I got it and opened the pot, dumping it into the saucer. I turned on the burner and set the timer.

"Who knows?" Eve shrugged. "Boys are idiots as you'd think Justin could just say, oh man I'm glad you're alive, but no. It's either guilt or amateur night at the drama queen theatre" she blew out a frustrated breath. "Boys. I'd turn gay if they weren't so sexy"

I tried not to laugh, but I couldn't help it, and after a second Eve smiled and chuckled, too. The water started boiling. In went the pasta.

"Um..Eve..can I ask?" I started.

"About what?" Eve was still frowning at the pasta like she suspected it was going to do something clever, like try to escape from the pot.

"You and Micheal" I grin.

"Oh" a surge of pink to Eve's cheeks. Between that and the fact that she was wearing colours outside of the goth red and black, she looked young and very cute. "Well. I don't know if it's...god, he's just so-"

"Hot?" I asked.

"Hot" Eve admitted. "Nuclear hot. Surface of the sun hot. And-"

She stopped, the flush in her cheeks getting darker. I picked up a wooden spoon and poked the pasta, which was beginning to loosen up. "And?" I asked.

"And I was planning on putting the moves on him before all this happened. That's why I had in the garters and stuff. Planning ahead" she admitted.

"Oh, wow" I smirked.

"Yeah, embarrassing. Did she peak?" She asked.

"When you were changing" I asked. "I don't think so. But I think he wanted to"

"That's okay then" Eve blinked down at the pasta, which had formed a thick white foam on top. "Is it supposed to be doing that?"

"I don't know" I shrugged.

"Oh crap!" The white foam kept growing, like one of those cheesy science fiction movies. The foam that ate the Glass House. I grabbed the pot and moved it, Eve turned down the burner. "Right, pasta makes foam, good to know. Too hot. Way too hot"

"Who? Micheal?" I asked, and we dissolved in giggles.

Which only got worse when Micheal walked in, who went into the refrigerator, and retrieved the last two beers. "Ladies" he said. "Did I miss something?"