Page 78 of Charmed, I'm Sure
“You know instead of sitting there judging me, you could always help Nyx.”
Nyx snorts and doesn’t say a word back. But Hops croaks loudly, clearly worried I’m going to be mad.
Rounding the corner, I find Miles elbow deep in a cabinet and all kinds of things strewn across my counters.
Is…is he trying to make me breakfast?
He is frantically moving through my kitchen, opening and closing cabinets. I’m not even sure what he’s looking for.
I clear my throat and he squeals, dropping the bag of flour onto the ground as the contents shoot straight up and all over him. My hand flies up, covering my mouth as I do everything in my power not to bust out laughing.
His long, dark eyelashes are tipped in white as he blinks through the cloud of powder.
He blinks again, coughing as a puff of flour escapes his mouth. “Welp,” he rasps, his hand waving in front of his face. “This isn’t going according to plan at all. Someone said that you usually sleep in. I’d planned to bring you breakfast in bed. But, I couldn’t find pancake mix. So I thought I would…”
“Miles.”
“Make you pancakes from scratch, even though I’ve never done that before. So I had to search ‘Make From Scratch Pancakes’. But, I don’t even know what the difference between baking soda and baking powder is. Which lead…”
“Miles,” I say as I clear my throat, trying to stop the rambling.
“...to me searching for that answer. But, you didn’t have the baking powder. Why don’t you have that, by the way? So, then I had to search for a substitution to that…”
“Miles!”
“...which was…what?” He eyelids flutter rapidly, staring at me with circles around his eyes and his face still covered in flour.
I snort, unable to hold it back this time. The sound bursts out of me so violently, I have to brace myself against the countertop. “You look like a ghost in a baking competition. You know those ones that are home chefs trying to compete in a professional competition?"
Miles grins, and somehow that stupid dimple is more prominent covered in flour. “But, I look like a handsome pink-haired ghost right? Speaking of, can you make the pink hair permanent, or no?”
Nyx groans from his perch on the counter, his voice as dry as a desert. “More like a tragic sibling to Betty Crocker.”
Rolling my eyes, I step into the kitchen, though I’m careful not to slip on the flour bomb that exploded around Miles. “Why in the moon and stars are you attempting to make me breakfast?”
“Because you deserve it,” he says simply, as if it’s the mostlogical answer. “You saved the town yesterday, faced your fears, and so, you deserve to be cherished. The least I could do is make you breakfast and attempt to make your coffee.”
I scoff. “I don’t deserve anything. Not after the reason that I had to ‘save’ the town was because of me to begin with.”
“The why isn’t the important part, it’s the standing back up, and taking accountability that is. We all make mistakes Bellamy. Some larger than others, but the only thing in life that ever matters is what we do after those mistakes.”
I roll my eyes and squeeze around him to my overly-expensive top-of-the-line espresso machine. It’s the only new thing in my entire house, mainly because your girl loves her coffee and it’s a must in life.
I’ve just put the cup under the spout when a hand wraps around my arm, gently tugging me to turn around. Begrudgingly I do, because he’s too sweet and it's too early. Let’s chalk it up to lack of sleep and not the emotions running through me.
His eyes are rounded as he stares into mine, pleading with me to hear him, even if he isn’t talking. They flicker between mine, and I wonder what he’s seeing. Is he seeing my guarded walls or is he seeing behind them to the vulnerable little girl?
“You are far more deserving of the blessings than you’ll ever give yourself credit for. But that’s okay, because even if it takes me the rest of our lives to prove it to you, then so be it. I’ll show up each day until you see what I see when I look at you.”
I roll my eyes again, it’s all too much. Far too early. I attempt to turn back around until he says, “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” His tone is deeper than normal and without his playful lilt to it.
Twisting back to face him, I’m not sure what to expect, until I see his mischievous smirk. I also don’t see the hand coming in or the flour coating it until he’s swiping it across my face. White flour dust floats in the air between us as he tilts his head, eyes glinting, and his smile becomes evenbroader now. My eyes narrow on that damn dimple as my eyes flick back to his. He’s challenging me, I can see it.
But unlike him, I have magic on my side. So he doesn’t see me snap my fingers nor see the bag of flour float up from the ground. Nor when it is hovering over his head. Not until it turns upside down, raining the flour down on top of him, in a weird version of snow.
“Oh, so you want to play unfair?” Miles goads as he nods over my shoulder.
Whirling around, I find Lady, eggs in hand, as she throws one right at me. Traitor! Women are supposed to stick together. The eggs thunk against my chest, cracking open as the slimy insides slide down my pajama top before falling to the ground.