Dangerous Game

15 - Al divalo!

Aurora
"Perché diavolo stiamo guardando questa merda?" Adrian winced as he stared into the pot I was mixing. "What the hell is this shit?" I had offered to help Adrian cook, and that turned out to be a big mistake. I discovered that I can't cook. Well, I already knew that, but I realized that compared to what he can cook, I can't cook shit.
What he has made is similar to what they serve at those expensive restaurants, and mine looks like something they'd serve at a prison.

I blushed. "I can't cook, Adrian." I fiddled with my thumbs, in embarrassment, and he scrunched up his nose in the cutest way possible.

"I can see that," he replied, his accent rolling off his tongue, effortlessly. "What were you even trying to make?"

"Uh, potato soup?" I mumbled, which made him laugh. Because of what he had said last night, I avoided the topic of what the hell we were at all costs. He didn't want to be in a relationship. That much was obvious, but what did he want then?
Why did he invite over for dinner, anyway?

"Let me help you, Carter," he offered me a small smile that didn't quite reach his beautiful eyes.
He showed me how to properly peel potatoes, and how to add spices to the soup that made it even better. His food tasted like heaven in my mouth. Unlike the potato soup my mom used to make, his soup had bacon and cheese in it. By the way he moved the knife, I could tell that he had been cooking since he was a kid. His cuts were slow and precise.

"Who taught you how to cook like this?" I asked as his warm hand helped me stir the potato soup correctly.

"My yiayia taught me," he replied, smoothly, "my grandmother on my father's side. He was born in Greece." So his accent was Greece. "She had a restaurant." In the kitchen wafted a delicious scent. Whether it was Adrian's colonge or the potato soup was unclear. I'm pretty sure it's not his colonge because it carries the scent of mint gum and nicotine, instead of potato soup.

"My grandma didn't teach me shit," I blurted out. "I learned everything I know from my dad."

"And what do you know?" He leaned against the counter, and gave me a smirk. "I know your dad never taught you how to cook." He isn't wrong.

"Well, in all honesty, my dad was a pretty shitty excuse for a cook, as well. The most he could make was grilled cheese. But he did teach me how to properly clean a house and how to ice skate without falling on my ass. Ironically, I fell on my ass the first ten times." He laughed at that. "Oh, and he taught me how to mow the lawn."

"Ah. I am pretty good at cleaning a house, and I can mow a lawn." Do not imagine him with his shirt off, brain. Oh, honey, we were already given that show. "I cannot ice skate, though. I fucking suck at it."

A short time later, we were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying the food I managed not to burn.
Every five seconds, I'd hear a compliment from Laura telling me how pretty I was, and how she was already planning my wedding with Adrian. Let's just say that he was not too happy by that comment. Vincent would laugh at son's definite embarrassment. Chase would say something about how good the lasagna that Adrian made was, and that I made some pretty good potato soup.

The compliments being thrown at me were new, to say the least. I wasn't use to all the attention. At every family reunion, the attention was on Aspen. But, much to my mom's dismay, I didn't achieve anything worth obsessing over, unless you count eating a whole pizza by myself on my first date. That, guys, took a lot of willpower. The guy wasn't impressed. I guess he expected me to be that girl who ordered a salad or chose not to eat. Sorry, dude, I'm not. I'm the girl who will call you out on your shit, and eat a larger pizza than you can. I'm  not the girl who gives a crap if she doesn't look like a model all the damn time. I'll work out, sure, but I will not change the way I look to meet a guy's expectations. He can change his expectations. It's that simple.

"So, Aurora, what do you like to do in your free time?" Laura smiles at me, and takes another bite out of her lasagna. That damn good lasagna, may I add.

"Screw Adrian," Chase remarked from the other end of the table. Adrian glared at him, and his dad stifled a laugh. I had to admit that it was pretty funny. I would have laughed if the joke wasn't directed at me. Laura gave her son the look. That same look your mom gives you when you insult a relative you don't like, or the look she gives you when you say a curse word at the table. I've been given that look once. Maybe twice.

"Sorry for my son's behavior, Aurora," she apologized. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

"I like to go ice skating in the winter. And, in the summer, I like to go to the gym, and run a mile every morning. I like to keep myself in shape."

"Well, that's great, Aurora. How's your family life?"
I bite down on my bottom lip, and sink a bit lower in my chair. The question caught me off-guard. Not many people know the extent of my family life. I've only really told Emerson. Poppy knows most of it. Adrian knows a couple of aspects.

"Laura!" Vincent gritted his teeth. "Don't pester her with questions she isn't comfortable with."

"Right," she quickly retracts herself. "You don't have to answer the question if you're not comfortable."

"I remember when Adrian was a child, and he'd wait at the window until I made it home. He'd run to me, and scream "daddy." Sometimes, he'd tell me the michevous acts he had committed that day, and sometimes, he'd just ask for a piggyback ride. He was quite the troublemaker as a kid. His mom would always curse up a storm in her native language. She meant everything to both Adrian and I. Isn't that right, son?" I turned to face him, but he wasn't sitting there. I excused myself from the table, and headed up to Adrian's bedroom.

My heart shattered into so many pieces when I saw what state he was in. Like broken glass, the confident, bad boy I had seen minutes before was shattered.

.....see you next chapter.