You Promised (A Luke Hemmings FanFic)

"Iron Chef"

Cassidy’s POV

I squint my eyes open as a ray of sunlight hit my eyes.

Rolling over, I try to fall back asleep.

Minutes pass by as I roll around.

Giving up, I brush my teeth and take a long shower.

My fingers dig into my scalp, getting rid of the grease from my hair.

The soap washes away the thin layer of my feverish sweat.

This time, I make sure to blow dry my hair before leaving the bathroom and into my chilly room.

Overall, I felt a lot better.

Not only did I get to sleep a lot, but the room didn’t spin, and I didn’t feel like I was being dunked into hot lava.

No congested nose, but a small sniffle and raspy voice.

I rummage through my closet and pull out a clean pair of sweats and a “We The Kings” t-shirt.

With my softest sweater pulled over, I pull my desk chair back to it’s rightful place, and plop down.

I roll over to the other side of my desk, and pick up the half-read book.

“The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight ” by Jennifer E. Smith.

Picking up from where I left off, I stop midway of pulling the bookmark out of it’s place.

Folding the book back into my lap, I challenged myself to roll over to my bed.

I was halfway there when I gave up, so I just half-walked-half-wheeled over to pick up my laptop.

If Luke were to walk in, I would look like I was trying to hump the air.

In my defense, it’s always hard to move in a chair with wheels, especially, if you’re not using your feet to steer around.

A few clicks later, a pillow was stationed under the book, elbows on the armrests, feet was propped up on the bed, and there was slow music playing in the background.

I let out a deep breath before delving back into my book.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I look up from the last words of the book and smile with satisfaction.

I swivel around and check the time.

3:37 PM.

I wasn’t that hungry, so I trade the finished book for a new one.

“Let It Snow,” a collaborative book, by John Green, Maureen Johnson, and Lauren Myracle.

I was only a few pages in, when I heard a knock at my door.

“Cassy?”

My heart fluttered a bit at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah?”

His messy hair had been combed back, but a few strands poked around.

“I made soup, want some?” he asks.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Woah, you’ve made soup?”

He rolled his icy blue eyes before his head disappears, “Come out if you want some.”

My smile still lingered on my lips.

Growing up with him, he would probably make toast everyday if he was on his own.

Literally.

I got up from my seat and stretched, sitting in a seat for an hour made my butt numb.

Opening the door, the smell wafted past me.

Padding into the kitchen, I found Luke stirring a pot of chicken noodle soup.

“Smells good iron chef.”

He laughs in response, and points to one of my cookbooks on the counter.

“It’s my original recipe.”

We stood in silence as I gave him a sideways smile.

He glances over and lets out a small laugh,“What?”

“I never noticed how tall you got...”

We looked at each other for a few seconds, before I turned away.

“Either that, or I got shorter,” walking away with a grin, I pull out two bowls and two spoons.

Setting it by the simmering soup, I pull out a ladle and drop it into the pot, and whisk the wooden spoon out of his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight ” by Jennifer E. Smith.

“Let It Snow,” by John Green, Maureen Johnson, and Lauren Myracle.