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I finished putting the soup together, then rinsed off all the dishes. “Do you have a preference for how you load the dishwasher?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…how do you organize your silverware or your bowls and plates?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
I cocked my head at him in confusion. “Kidding about what?”
“Why would it matter how it’s loaded?”
Men were so frustrating. How did someone like Dash not understand the importance of loading a dishwasher correctly? “If you put all the spoons in the same slot, they sort of cup together and don’t get clean. And there’s a different way to load plates and bowls in every washer to maximize space. Same thing with cups.”
“I usually just shove shit in there and go with it.”
I pursed my lips in irritation, hoping he couldn’t read the expression on my face. If I was going to stay here, I’d have to be in charge of loading the dishes. If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was dirty dishes because of improper loading.
But I couldn’t say that. It wasn’t my house. “Okay, I just wanted to check.”
“You know, you don’t have to do that,” he said, standing up and walking around to me. “If you’re going to make dinner, the least I can do is clean up.”
He tried to take a wooden spoon out of my hand, but I wouldn’t allow it. “It’s fine. I really don’t mind.”
“I can’t let you do everything around here.”
“I’m your guest, using your house for the next month or two. I want to do this.”
“And as you said, you’re my guest,” he said, practically leaning me over the counter as he snagged the spoon out of my hand. “And guests don’t do everything.”
He turned his back on me and started tossing stuff inside haphazardly. My eyes bugged out as I watched him litter the bottom rack with a bowl, knife, wooden spoon, dish, and a cutting board.
Awoodencutting board.
I bit my lip, doing my best not to point out how wrong it all was. I would annoy the crap out of him if I told him he was doing it wrong. I couldn’t watch the madness, so I backed out of the kitchen.
“I think I’ll go put some of my stuff away until the soup is ready.”
“Yeah, I cleaned out the left half of the dresser for you.”
“Thanks.”
With one last worried glance at the plastic container he dropped on the bottom rack, I scurried upstairs and shut the door behind me.
Stop being so anal. You can’t go into someone else’s house and tell them how to do things.
But I can’t stand to see the dish rack loaded like that! It’ll drive me nuts.
Well, you’re going to have to suck it up. He’s going to get annoyed with you.
It’s not like he likes me anyway.
He likes you enough to let you stay. If you ruin this, you’re going to have to stay at Andrew’s house, which you know you can’t handle right now.
I had to stop having these internal arguments. They only confused me further, not to mention, I usually lost to the other half of myself. I took my time unpacking, making sure to neatly fold my clothes and put them in the drawers Dash set aside for me. I didn’t know how long I would be here, but I’d be the best guest ever. It’d be like I wasn’t even here.
However, when I started to unpack my toiletries, I realized keeping my presence minimal was going to be a problem. Women had at least twice the amount of bathroom products as men, but there was usually more than that. My shampoo and conditioner bottles were twice the size of his and didn’t fit on the single shelf of his walk-in shower.
And then there was my razor and shave cream, body wash, my extra hair treatments, and all my exfoliating needs. I winced at how all the bottles were lined up along the edge of the wall. He’d probably be pissed with all the things on the floor, but at least they weren’t in the way.