Lala_Loopsie > Books: funny-sexy‎ (103)

I just tripped more than usual, and accidentally set things on fire more than what would be considered ‘normal’. I got kicked out

I just tripped more than usual, and accidentally set things on fire more than what would be considered ‘normal’. I got kicked out of the village school only one moon-cycle before graduation for accidentally making one of the teachers bald. How do you accidentally make someone bald? That’s a good question. All you really need is a bucket of warm tar to accidentally toss onto the back of their head. How do you get a bucket of warm tar? You don’t go looking for it or anything—or at least I didn’t.

“I wasn’t cooking, I swear. I would never. Not even if you forced me.” “Why was the stove hot?” “There was something inside it. I thought if I made it hot, it would crawl out.” “With the door shut?” “Whoops.”

“Not th—” “Don’t leave the curtains open while I’m dancing naked? Don’t eat everything that’s put in front of me—especially if I was the one who put it in front of me? Don’t—” “Will—” “Don’t sew all the holes shut while I’m mending shirts, because then where do the arms go?” “Will—” “Don’t drink pond water; don’t believe everything I read; don’t say no to everything; don’t say yes to everything; don’t—”

I never want to see them again. Except Aros; he smells nice. And Rome, because he’s so strong I’m pretty sure not even Rau can get past him. I don’t need the others. Except Siret. I’m pretty sure he hates me, but he’s really good at catching me like just before I face-plant into something. But the others, I don’t need them. Not at all.” I paused, my brow furrowing, my mouth pursing, and then I quickly blurted, “Except Coen and Yael. Coen is really good at making decisions, and if I leave out Yael he’ll probably hunt me the hell down and haunt me—” “That’s all of them,” Emmy interrupted smoothly. She didn’t sound panicked anymore. Now she sounded like she was trying not to laugh.

I even had to stop my car to let a flock of chickens cross the road. (Insert your own joke here, please.)

One-inch cubes with crisp edges; no rounded corners here. Next up werecantaloupe balls, rounded and plump. No ragged hollows; simply perfect balls. I heard how that sounded in my head, snorted, and moved on to the watermelon triangles. Acute. Obtuse. Did Mitzi appreciate the knife skills that went into her fruit bowl? Doubtful. Did she notice the culinary geometry that composed her a.m. energy burst? Probably not. No one noticed the perfection of my melons—but everyone sure noticed her perfect melons.

Tonight, I was having Leo. Over for dinner. Yes, that period was intentional. It was rare that I sat down with a guy and shared a meal I had prepared. But with Leo providing so much of the food, and little potential for strings attached, it only seemed fair. And more to the point, I liked the idea of cooking for Leo. I wanted to cook for him.