Page 90 of Drawn Together

“Are you dangerous?” I asked, remembering Samara’s words.

He closed his eyes for a second before answering. “Not to you… I would never hurt you.”

His words were a comfort to me. I smiled, as I noticed thathis hands were still on my face and his mouth was only inches from mine. “Did you really spend the night in the car?”

He seemed to relax, realizing that I didn’t want to keep listening to him talk about secrets, trust, and bitter ex-wives.

“Ask my back.” He lowered his hands and stretched to his full height.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“What do you think?”

“I think I could give you the best massage of your life and leave you feeling like new.”

“Oh yeah?” he answered, playing along with me for the first time since we’d met.

“I can show you, whenever you want, wherever you want.”

“I think I may have tempted fate too much already.”

My eyes moved involuntarily to the sling he still wore on his left arm from where he’d been injured in the car accident.

“Are you going to be able to do your job with only one arm?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Sebastian looked at the sling and frowned. “Haven’t I been doing it? Don’t worry, this is coming off soon—I’ll be like new again in a few days… But I can call in someone to help me out if you think that…” he began, very serious.

“No! I don’t want anyone else in here.”

Sebastian gave me a half smile in response to my panic at the notion of another version of him lurking around my apartment. “Are you hungry?”

I nodded, the anxiety I’d been feeling since the night before slowly beginning to fade.

“Well, then help me out.”

I followed him into the kitchen, where we washed our hands before continuing on with anything else.

“You can start by sifting the flour,” he said as he opened the fridge.

“Sorry, what?” I asked, blinking several times.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and took a carton of eggs from the fridge. “You have to sift the flour before you mix the other ingredients into the pancake batter. Come here, I’ll pour it in while you just tap the sieve so it falls through.”

I ambled over to him, feeling totally clueless. “It was more fun when you did all the cooking by yourself,” I said, looking at his injured arm and frowning. “Are you sure you really hurt yourself that bad? I swear I’ve seen you move those fingers a few times.”

“I’m not paralyzed; it’s just a sprain. Start sifting, will you?”

I followed his instructions, and together we made some fairly decent pancakes.

“Wait, I want to make one shaped like the United States!” I said after a few batches.

“Marfil, you tried four times to make one that looked like Mickey Mouse. Do you really think you’ll be able to make one shaped like an entire country?” He’d clearly lost his patience with me.

“Give me that,” I said, yanking the pan out of his hand at the same time as he was pouring the last batch in. I couldn’t help but laugh at the two of us covered in flour, egg, and batter. Whenever he cooked on his own, he didn’t get so much as a hair out of place.

“What’s so funny?”

My laughter almost turned into a howl, smudging my face with batter as I covered my mouth.