A/N:
Just a reminder this is unedited and a first draft. Let me know of any errors or things that may seem confusing. Keep the comment section a nice place on here :)
Stay home, stay healthy, stay safe, stay sane.
Lots of love!
- Annelie Leddy
***
As Clara showered, Flint was in the kitchen readying her breakfast. Sipping his dark bitter coffee, he tried to figure out how exactly to "flip" the pancake that laid on the pan.
He steadies his spatula under the white looking batter and realizes it is cooked on one side.
'How the hell do people cook this? It's not cooked on one side...' he thinks as he groans.
Well, it's obvious you flip it, dumbass. His subconscious can't help but comment.
After he turns the spatula over, turning the pancake to the other side he sees that the cooked side is overdone. The pitch-black pancake makes his kitchen smell like fire.
Nice! You should join Top Chef.
"Jesus," he mutters while coughing.
He lifts the pan and carefully tosses its contents in the trash before placing the pan on the back burner.
As he turns around towards his kitchen island, staring at the video on his phone one more time, the sound of his doorbell causes his annoyance to peak.
Flint sets his coffee down and reluctantly walks to the front door. He grips the knob tight and swings it open to find a leisured Callum Cavenaugh.
"What happened to you?" Flint asks.
Callum groans, stepping inside Flints home.
He wasn't wearing his normal suit but instead wore a dirty white t-shirt and jeans. His combat boots were heavy, hitting the hardwood and making a vibration of sound. The most leisure part of Callum was the aviators that covered his eyes.
"Drank a lot more after you left," Callum explains. "What the fuck is that smell? Did you set fire to your kitchen?"
Flint leads the way back to the messy kitchen. Flour had fallen onto the floor, drops of milk laid on the counter.
"Jesus! Does Clara know you did this?"
"Why do you ask?" Flint chuckles turning to the mixed batter.
"Because you said she can cook and this..." Callum gestures to the mess, "...is not cooking."
Cavenaugh steps closer to the bowl of pancake batter. Swiftly he drops his finger in the batter, gaining a glare from Flint. After lifting his finger from the thick cream, he licks his finger.
Callum gags, shaking his head.
"That is literally shit. You tried to cook that?"
"I'm a fighter, not a fucking chef," Flint growls.
YOU ARE READING
Freeing Clara
RomanceThe Bar Book #2 The world seems to be against Clara and Flint as their fight is far from over. With the cult of Sevonism targeting Clara for her betrayal and a group of mysterious men showing intrigue in her, Flint asks his old friend for help. Well...
