(P5) 48 Hours to Get to Know a Person

Instructions

(Hey yall! Normal warnings-plus there's a word that's coded...but ik yall are smart enough to figure it out<3 Happy reading!) Chapter 8: June Hobbies: ~Reading ~Volleyball ~Studying (is that a hobby?) ~School? ~...I don't know Saturday, Oct 6th, 1:35pm I reach the end of a chapter and pause, glancing down at my wristwatch. Wow. We've been doing this for a while. No wonder my stomach is growling. Kai is sitting on the floor near my chair, building a tower out of cards. He's been usually quiet and attentive ever since I started reading aloud. Only ever interrupting to ask a question about the story. Pretty good questions, too. Maybe there's more to him than I first thought. "Are you done?" Kai asks, a little sadly. I give him a look. "We've been doing this for hours. Let's take a break. Stretch our legs, fill our stomachs, y'know?" Kai nods and gets up carefully, so as not to disturb his tower. It's pretty impressive, to be honest. Nearly above his waist. "I've been thinking...for our literature report." He starts as we walk towards the cafeteria. I raise my eyebrows. Kai Brooks is willingly talking about schoolwork? I never thought I'd see the day. "Maybe we could do it on 'Little Women'. Then I'm not wasting my time listening to it." I shove his shoulder, which shocks us both equally. I'm not one to accept physical touch typically, much less initiate it. But the motion just felt natural. Kai is so surprised he trips over his feet and nearly falls on his face, even though I didn't push him all that hard. "Oh, c'mon." I scoff, crossing my arms. "You couldn't get enough. You practically begged me to keep reading." Kai shakes his head, trying to hide a smile. "Did not." "Did too!" We bicker for the rest of the walk to the cafeteria. I rustle around in the fridge and find bread and cheese, both of which thankfully look fairly new, so I heat up a frying pan. Kai sits on the counter and watches me butter each piece and then set them in the sizzling pan. "Isn't it weird how like..." He trails off, eyes distant. I raise an eyebrow. "You never finished that sentence? Yeah." I flip one of the sandwiches, the delicious smell of melting cheese floating up to my nose. Kai rolls his eyes. "Always a snappy comeback. No, I just meant-weird that before yesterday, we'd barely spoken and now I feel like we know each other?" I snort. "You do not 'know me', Brooks." Kai swings his legs back and forth, studying me. It isn't in a creepy way or anything, just curious, but it makes my skin tingle nonetheless. "Okay-well, let's fix that." "If you want my bank account number, go scam someone else." "What about just your number, then?" I spin around and whack him with the oven mitts. "SORRY-sorry, couldn't resist." He protests, holding his hands over his head. "Sureeee you couldn't." I grumble, reluctantly going back to the stove. "Boys and their stupid pickup lines." Kai looks offended. "Hey-I have good ones too! Wanna hear?" "Not in the slightest." I say. I don't want to feel like he's making fun of me. My face is already hot from his joking-flirtation, but I'll blame that on the stove. "Okay, okay." There a silence. But this is Kai Brooks we're talking about so it is a very short one. "So...what's your favorite color?" "Okay, Mellark." I say with an eyebrow raise. He gives me a blank look. "What?" I shake my head sadly. "You poor, poor uneducated boy. And um...I don't really have one." "Liar." Kai says immediately. "Everyone has a favorite color." "Everyone under the age of five." I mutter. "June. You are not seriously telling me you don't have a favorite color." "I have a favorite color scheme! Like...green-browns and light tans." Kai cracks up laughing. I hold the mitts threateningly until he pulls himself together. "That's just...so on-brand for you." I scowl. "If the question's so important, what's yours?" "Red." Kai says without hesitation. "Congratulations for you! What's the point of this, again?" "To get to know each other. C'mon June, it's not like you're allergic to small talk." I might as well be. If it doesn't have a point I don't want it. But since there's pretty much nothing else to do, I suppose I can listen to this boy be ridiculous a little longer. "What's your favorite smell?" I blink. "Smell." "Yup." "I don't know...cinnamon I guess? My grandmother used to bake these amazing cinnamon rolls...fluffy and sweet and crunchy-with cream cheese frosting-" I cut off, glancing away for a second, tears pricking my eyes. It wasn't the cinnamon rolls I missed so much-though they had been amazing-but the memories of the woman that made them. What I wouldn't give to talk to her right now. Tell her about this weird situation-about this strange boy. But she wasn't exactly within cell-reception distance. I quickly turn back to the frying pan. "What's yours?" "Ocean air. The breeze you feel when you're walking down the beach...I could breathe it in forever." I stare at him. "Nice."