"I swear, if you took my leftovers, I will rip you limb from limb."
"Come on, Claire, do you distrust me that much?" he leant against the counter of our shared kitchen, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Can you prove it?" I asked, half slamming the fridge door closed.
"No." He reached up and ran his hand through his hair, and I closed my eyes, exhaling sharply in exasperation. "But you don't want to eat that nasty stuff anyway." I opened my eyes again to glare at him.
"Really? And how would you know that?" He winked at me and turned around, opening two of the cupboards and examining the contents. Sometimes, I really hated shared accommodation, especially when it meant living with Richard. He had been hitting on me ever since we had moved in together, and I really couldn't see why he continued to bother, the amount of times I had turned him down.
"Because," he eventually turned around again, dropping a bag of flour onto the counter in a small cloud of white, "we have everything we need to make pizza."
I couldn't help my stomach from rumbling, and he grinned as I cursed under my breath. I turned around and opened the fridge again, hoping there was anything else to eat, that something else would magically appear on the shelves, but unless I wanted to fall as low as Richard, and eat whatever was in the plastic container with his name written on top, I had no choice. I hadn't been shopping in days, and I didn't have the money for takeout or to order anything in.
"Fine," I sighed, pulling a hairband off my wrist and gathering my hair up into a messy bun. "But we are not putting olives on it, and you had better keep all mushrooms off my half."
"Who said you're getting half?" he stared down at me as I furrowed my brow in confusion. "You're cute when you're confused." I punched him on the arm and he grinned as I glowered at him. How many times had I told him not to try and flirt with me, that I wasn't interested in him at all? That I disliked everything about him, except for the bits of hair that curl around the base of his neck, and the grin that pulls at the corners of his lips when he's happy but sleepy. "I thought we could make a pizza each. We have enough stuff."
"Fine." I said again, and when Richard made no move to continue doing anything, I sighed and went in search of a mixing bowl. "Here." I put the bowl down on the counter none too gently, and looked up at him again. "How do we make this then?"
"I don't know, I thought you would?"
I stared blankly up at him. "So how do you know that we have everything?"
"Because my Dad used to make pizza every Friday evening. I just don't know measurements and stuff."
"Oh," I looked around for my phone, patting the pockets of my jogging bottoms and hoodie, but to no avail. "I'll be back in a minute," I walked out the room and ran up the stairs, finding my phone on my bed and heading back down the stairs at a much slower pace. I had never had much luck with going down stairs, I had fallen far too many times, and Richard had seen me do so too many times for my comfort.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Richard was looking down at his phone, a rather large mountain of flour in the bowl.
"How many pizzas are we making?" I walked over and checked the scales underneath the bowl.
"It's what it said!" he held out his phone to me and I snatched it from him, reading through the instructions.
"It helps if you read the recipe," I passed his phone back to him and picked up the bowl of flour, carefully tipping it back into the bag, although a lot of it ended up on the counter. "We're not trying to feed a family of four. Half the ingredients."
"What?" He examined the recipe, and shrugged. "I could've eaten the extra two."
"Why can't you just admit you were wrong and move on? You're so incredibly infuriating."
"Okay, sorry," he help up his hands towards me. "I surrender, you win."
"That's not what I mean." I sighed. "What does the recipe say next?"
Richard continued to read out the recipe, and I took on the role of rereading it and actually doing the work. By the time there were two semi-decent pieces of dough rolled out for the bases, my stomach felt like an empty pit, and I could feel the start of a headache coming on.
"Can we put the toppings on now?" Richard asked, and practically ran to the fridge when I nodded, pulling out different things, most of which I'm sure did not belong to him, but some of our other housemates.
"Pass me the pepper," I held my hand out and he handed me a red pepper, for me to chop. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I put the knife down, holding onto the edge of the counter and staring straight ahead as the kitchen wall come in and out of focus. The spell passed, and I blinked the world back into focus.
"Claire? Are you alright?" I could feel Richard's hand on my hip, his arm reaching around my back. I nodded and he removed his hand, stepping away. "You looked like you were going to fall over."
"I'm fine, just hungry." I breathed out slowly and reached for the knife again to continue chopping the pepper.
"Stop," Richard laid his hand over mine, stilling it. "Go and sit down, I can do this." I looked up at him, but the look on his face said he wasn't going to argue, and I slipped out from between him and the counter, leaving the knife and the half chopped pepper, and sat down at the kitchen table, folding my arms on it and laying my head down.
"Have you drunk anything today?" Richard asked after a moment of silence.
"I don't know," my voice was muffled by my arms, and I heard Richard mumble something to himself and the kitchen tap start running.
"Drink that." I looked up to see a large glass of water placed on the table next to me. "All of it." I watched as Richard turned away again, and started chopping the rest of the ingredients he had retrieved from the fridge. I picked up the glass, the coolness of the water causing condensation on the sides of the glass and wetting my hand, and sipped it. "All of it," Richard repeated, not even turning around, and I glared at his back before taking a longer drink.
I watched as Richard chopped things, spreading them atop the pizzas. He wasn't the best with a knife, as was evident by the uneven way everything was sliced, but it was good enough.
"Feeling better?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at me, and at the practically empty glass of water on the table.
"Yeah." My head had cleared, and the headache had changed its mind about plaguing me.
"No one ever drinks enough water. Thom nearly collapsed when we were playing football the other day." Richard shook his head, obviously recalling the incident.
"Hey, I said no mushrooms on mine!" I exclaimed, staring at the singular, but very large, chunk of mushroom badly hidden on my pizza under a bit of chicken.
"Aw, I hoped you wouldn't notice." Richard removed the offending fungi, and I relaxed back in the chair again. "It's so funny watching you when you eat bits of mushroom. Your nose screws up all weird."
"They're disgusting. Frankly, I don't understand why anyone would want to eat a fungus." I retorted as Richard put the pizzas in the oven, a small gust of warm air blowing my way from the opening of the oven door.
"I quite like them."
"You're a fungus yourself." I said sarcastically, and Richard turned to look at me, a stunned look on his face, although he couldn't completely stop the grin at the corner of his mouth.
"How dare you!" he shook his head at me. "You have to watch a full movie with me, beginning to end, for that comment." I opened my mouth to protest, but he started speaking again before I could. "You can pick though." I closed my mouth again, and tilted my head to the side.
"I can pick? Anything? And you have to watch it?" I asked, and a look of terror and regret crossed his face, before he slowly nodded.
"Yes?" he said it as more of a question than an answer.
"Wonderful." I rubbed my hands together like I imagine an evil mastermind would. "We're going to watch a thriller, and you have to watch it this time."
"But–"
"You said I could pick anything! Don't worry, I won't choose one that's scary. I know you're easily frightened." I grinned at him and he narrowed his eyes at me.
"You've done it now!" he wiggled his fingers at me, and I jumped up from the chair and fled the room. I would not be tickled.
"Pete, protect me," I jumped on the sofa next to one of our housemates, and curled up as close to him as possible. He stared at me, dumbfounded, before returning his gaze to his laptop.
We both looked up at Robert as he half ran into the room, and he froze when he saw Pete.
"Ah," Pete smiled, looking back at his computer.
"What?" Robert and I said it at the same time, but Pete refused to look up at either of us, simply grinning at his laptop.
"Did you set a timer for the pizza?" I asked and Robert shook his head. Sighing, I stood up, certain he wouldn't try and tickle me again, and walked past him into the kitchen, muttering 'utterly useless' just loud enough for him to hear.
"Pizza?" Pete yelled from the sitting room. "Did you make enough for me?"
"No!" I yelled back, setting the timer on the oven as Robert walked up to me. He leant down towards me, his breath tickling my cheek as he whispered, "I used Pete's cheese for the pizza. Don't tell him."
"Pete!" I yelled immediately, and Robert grabbed me around the middle, spinning me around so my back was against his chest, and held his hand across my mouth. I poked my tongue out and licked his palm, but to no avail.
"What?" Pete walked into the room and spent a full three seconds surveying the scene in front of him, before he announced "use protection" and walked away, giggling to himself.
"Does everyone in this house think we're a couple?" Robert asked, as I pried his hand off my face.
"They do? Who? We're not. I hate you." I spoke quickly so he wouldn't interrupt me.
"Don't worry, I hate you too." I looked up at him, and saw him grinning, and couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.
And done!
This is a little long (1881 words) but I couldn't get it to come to a natural conclusion, so I just kept typing. Never mind.
Now I want pizza.
Anyway.
Bye!
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