Out of kindness, I decided not to cook caramelized pork anymore. Instead, I opted for trying my hand at pan-grilled fish in an attempt to show off my culinary skills.
Christopher laughed as he leaned against the sink, watching me roll my sleeves up dramatically.
I gave him a sidelong glance. “What are you laughing at?”
He shook his head, but his eyes were still sparkling with mirth. “Let me clean the fish. You might get hurt.”
He took off his coat as he said so, draping it over my head and using me as a human coat hanger. The faint, intoxicating smell of tobacco enveloped me, and I almost couldn't bear to take
the coat off.
In no time, he was done and promptly took over the rest of the preparation process; pouring oil into the pan, frying up some chopped onions and garlic, and finally putting the fish in the pan. Unfortunately, he had put it down a little too quickly, and drops of boiling hot oil splashed out of the pan as soon as he did.
Thanks to Christopher's quick reflexes, the oil didn't splash onto me but onto his outstretched arm protectively covering mine. I noticed his skin instantly start to become an angry shade of red in certain spots.
“Are you okay? I'm going to go grab the first-aid kit,” I fretted, holding his hand up close to inspect it. For some inexplicable reason, I felt my heart clench at the sight of his reddened hand.
“I'm fine.” He pulled me into his arms as he
patted my head comfortingly. “I've dealt with worse before.”
I raised my gaze to meet his. “You're used to cooking for yourself?”
Lyle could never cook or do anything useful in the kitchen, so I had naturally assumed that Christopher couldn't either, completely forgetting the fact that just because they were friends didn't mean that they were the exact same person.
Christopher shrugged and silently turned back around to focus on the fish in the pan.
At that moment, I had the sudden urge to hug him from behind and comfort him. It must have been hard living by himself all this while.
But I didn't do so for two reasons; the first being that I couldn't muster up the courage, and the
second reason was that the doorbell rang.
I was about to go and open the door when he suddenly said, “I swear, I'm going to remove the doorbell one day.”
“Why?” What had it done to offend him?
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