Breaking The Ice [bxb]

Chapter Twenty-Two [Eli]

*this chapter contains multimedia relevant to the plot*

"We're always happy to have you here, Eli."

I offer a clipped smile. "Thank you, Mrs Holmes."

Owen's mother grins, waving me off dismissively. "Of course. I miss cooking for five."

"Is that so different from cooking for four?" Owen's sister, Olivia, chimes in pertly. Mr Holmes shoots her a look and her already big round eyes widen innocently. "I was genuinely curious."

"Sure you were." Owen rolls his eyes.

"You shouldn't do that so much. Your eyeballs might pop off."

"Olivia," Mrs Holmes deadpans. "Don't chastise your brother. He's tired."

She smiles. "I was offering my brother honest advice. From a place of sisterly concern."

"Sure you were," Owen parrots his own words.

"Since you're so full of sisterly concern, I'm sure you won't mind cleaning this up," Mr Holmes tells his daughter as he stands from the table.

"I cleaned the kitchen before bed all week," Olie complains, sounding more like a whiny kid than she ever did anywhere else. "It's Owen's turn."

"Your brother studies very hard all day, and he helped me at work today. You can do the dishes," Mr Holmes says.

"I can help," I offer. Because what else could I do? I've eaten their food, the least I can do is help clean up.

Mrs Holmes tsks dismissively. "You're a guest."

"It's no trouble," I say, standing up.

"Hey. If he wants to help, let him help," Olie says.

"How permissive of you," Owen muses.

Olie shrugs with a coy smile. "That's me. So permissive."

"Do as you like. Your father and I are going to bed," Mrs Holmes tells us, walking alongside her husband to the kitchen doorway.

"You can stay the night if you like, Eli," Mr Holmes says before leaving.

I smile in appreciation and then they're gone. Owen's parents rise before dawn every day, so they're early sleepers.

"Bailing already?" Olie asks as Owen stands from the table as well and makes for the door.

He looks at her. "I need to use the bathroom. Is that allowed?"

"For you? Just about anything," she quips.

Owen rolls his eyes as he turns away. As he leaves, I help Olie collect the dishes from the table. She throws me a kitchen towel from the hook beside the stove, before grabbing a scourer from the balcony.

"How's life?" She asks lightly, placing a modest amount of detergent on the green mesh and running a plate under running water.

"Great."

She smiles knowingly, looking at me out the corner of her eye as she scrubs. Her curly brown hair is tied back, away from her face. "Living the dream, soaking up the glory of being state champions?"

"All that."

"Mhm, I could tell." She nods, rinsing the foamy plate under the tap. "You sure look radiant. Truly glorious." She hands me the clean wet dish with a meaningful look.

I take it, surrendering a weak laugh under her shrewd gaze. "I'm just tired."

"Practice shouldn't be wearing you guys out so much anymore," she says as she starts on a new dish. "Is that just work, or something else on your mind?"