Never Say Never

Eight

CHAD P.O.V.

I had somehow ignored the urge to beg Erin not to go out with Cohen. I'd also somehow managed not to punch him in the face. I'd listened from my room, as she went back to her room and got dressed, before leaving with the asshole. The only consolation was that she wasn't gone that long. A few hours was it. So then I had to silently wonder if something happened, to cause her to return home so soon. If Cohen touched her, I'd kill him and not feel any remorse over it.

I don't know why, but I was expecting Erin to come find me when she got back home, but she didn't. She went straight to her room and hadn't come out since. Eric had rushed off, right out of the shower, that morning. I wasn't sure what he was up to, but knew he was definitely up to something. Eric never rushed around, any morning, of any day of the week, unless he was up to something. I had enough problems of my own, though, to worry about what he was doing. I figured he'd tell me when he was ready.

So I found myself, at home, in the kitchen on a Saturday night. I needed to do something to occupy myself, so I figured I'd try my hand at cooking. We usually lived off of pizza, so it'd be nice to eat something else for a change. I pulled out my phone and looked up beginners recipes and found one for spaghetti. I figure any idiot could make spaghetti. An hour later, I'd managed to burn the sauce and overcook the noodles. I was staring at the inedible mess when Erin walked in.

"What in the world happened in here? Did someone break into our house?" She asked, wide-eyed.

I shook my head and told her, sadly, "No, I just tried to cook. It didn't go well."

"You, um, wow. I figured you'd have plans to go out tonight."

I shrugged, "I'm sure there is a party, but I wasn't feeling it. I haven't been feeling it for a while, actually. I only went out long enough last night to make sure you were safe and then I came home."

"I don't know what to do with that information."

"I didn't tell you as a way to guilt you into anything, Erin." I tell her, suddenly feeling exhausted. I shook my head, "I'm just going to call and order a pizza."

"I could help you...if you want...if you still want spaghetti." She surprised me, by offering.

"You know how to cook?"

She shrugged, "I can't do much, but I've made spaghetti before."

"Ok, well...I don't think I can salvage this mess. So let's dump it and start from scratch." I tell her and proceed to do just that. We worked in mostly silence. She gave me gentle instruction here and there, but mostly we just enjoyed each other's company. Well, I guess I couldn't speak for her, but I was having a great time.

"Where is the strainer?" She asked, with a frown.

"Um, strainer?"

She chuckled, "No wonder your noodles didn't survive. When they're done, you're supposed to put them in the strainer and rinse with fresh, hot water to get all of the excess starch off."

She opened the corner cabinet and began to reach up, trying to reach what I now knew was called a strainer. She wasn't quite tall enough though and I'd been good for long enough. So I moved up behind her, coming in close. She froze, as I placed one hand on her hip and pulled her back, flush against me. Then I reached up and grabbed the strainer, setting it on the counter beside her, before placing my other hand on her other hip.

"Um, thanks." She whispered.

I lowered my head and placed my lips against her ear, "You're welcome."