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I huff and move to the doorway. “I’ll get bandages from the bathroom.”
As I get the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink, I can’t help feeling a wash of relief. He might just be a fake boyfriend, but through all this, he’s genuinely become a friend. And, I never want to see any of my friends hurt.
When I get back to the kitchen, Parker has moved over to the sink.
“It’s not a deep cut is it?” I ask, clenching my jaw. “Like, in need of stitches?”
“Relax, Green. You didn’t cut me that bad. It looks as bad as a paper cut.”
I put the first aid kit on the counter by the sink. “Since when did I cut you? You’re the one who shifted and came at the knife in the most awkward way possible.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have happened if you right handed people didn’t think everyone should conform to your ways.”
“Shut up,” I laugh, pulling the backing off a band-aid. “Show me the damage.”
Parker lifts his hand toward me and I frown at the slice along the side of his index finger.
“It’s not that bad,” he insists as I wrap the bandage around his finger.
For good measure, I wrap a second band-aid against the first. “How’s that?”
“Nice and tight,” Parker replies. “It’s great. Thanks, Kylie.”
“You’re welcome.”
As I trash the backing of the band-aids, Parker says, “I’ll stick to mixing from now on.”
“Considering you cut yourself before you even started, I’d say that’s a good call. I can deal with some flour and chocolate spilling instead of bloodshed.”
Parker wiggles his bandaged finger. “This wasn’t another effort in self-sabotage. I swear.”
I nod. “I didn’t think it was.”
While we mix the cake batter, I’m so grateful Parker is a good listener. On so many occasions, my dad has tried to help and I find myself constantly repeating instructions because he doesn’t pay attention. Once he got out of his head, Parker’s a super cute helper.
“You can leave once the cakes are in the oven,” I say after prepping the cake pans. “They need a while to bake and then cooling time before I can frost and layer them.”
“I don’t mind staying,” Parker replies.
“I also don’t mind if you don’t see the decorations. Then I can surprise you as much as your family.”
An infectious smile brightens his face. “Okay.”
“Do you want to help me get the batter into the cake pans?” I ask. “It’s always easier with someone’s help when I have to divide the layers.”
“Sure. Just tell me what to do.”
I have Parker pour the batter into the cake pans so I can make sure they’re even. On the third pan, I can tell there’s too much batter left in the mixing bowl, so I touch Parker’s hand to stop him from pouring.
He tilts the bowl up and I can’t seem to move my hand. We both stare at our hands, and I swear, I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Parker clears his throat. “Where do you want me to pour it?”
I blink hard, pulling my hand away from his. “Just evenly into the first two.”
When Parker finishes pouring the batter, I check the oven’s temperature is ready for the cakes. I get his help loading the three cake pans into the oven, careful not to touch his hand again.
“Do you need help with the frosting?” Parker asks when I close the oven door.
