The Season of Falling

15. Chapter 15

Chapter fifteen

Kasey

It was like all the stress and tension I’d been feeling over the past few days drained away the moment I laid eyes on Dean. He opened the door wearing jeans, a green t-shirt, and a black apron with the words “hot stuff coming through” printed on the front. His face lit up when he saw me and he stepped forward with his arms open wide for a hug.

I instantly put a hand up. “I don’t know what disaster is going on in your kitchen,” I said, dodging his arms, “but it looks like it exploded on you. And I like this shirt.” I gestured to the blue and white floral top I was wearing.

Dean looked down at the splatters on his apron and then grinned at me. “That shirt does look real good on you.” He winked, and my cheeks heated. “But I’ll have you know that my dinner making is going, er, splendidly.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh huh. Then what’s this all over your apron?”

“Just the consequences of cooking. Nothing to be worried about,” he said nonchalantly, closing the door and walking with me toward the kitchen. My mouth dropped open when I saw the mess. There was red sauce splattered on the stove and the wall behind it, flour and cheese coated the counter, and various utensils and bowls were spread around the kitchen.

“As you can see, I have it all under control.”

I turned to look at him, eyes wide. He had his lips pulled in, trying to keep from laughing. I snorted, and then we both lost it, dissolving into a fit of laughter. Dean lifted the edge of his apron to wipe at his eyes and I grabbed a napkin from the cupboard to do the same.

“What were you even trying to make?” I said, still a little out of breath.

“Ravioli. But the sauce actually did explode and the dough was harder to work with than I thought. That stuff is sticky!” He exclaimed in defense of himself. I shook my head in disbelief, unable to keep the smile from my face.

“I knew you weren’t the best cook ever, but wow. This is next level.” I snickered, and Dean shoved my shoulder lightly.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not nice to make fun of a guy for trying to impress his girlfriend?”

My breathing stilled, and a warm feeling like sunshine after a rainy day spread through my body. This was the first time he’d called me his girlfriend, and it made me feel warm all over. I mentally shook myself, glad that Dean was too busy trying to clean up the mess to notice my reaction to his words.

“How about we try something a little easier than ravioli?” I suggested, grabbing another apron before moving to help him clean up the kitchen.

As we worked, I asked Dean if he had a memory to share. A smile tugged at his lips as he talked about the Art History exam we had studied for together. It was possibly the worst exam I ever took in my college career. There were so many dates and events and artists to memorize. And after eating a whole pizza while sitting in the library, we’d decided to take a break. We left our stuff, sure no one would care to take our boring Art History work, and set off across campus.

Dean knew of a building with roof access. It wasn’t a building I’d ever been in, but our friend Max was a security guard on campus and had told us about a way to get in and to the roof. So we climbed the stairs and made it to the top. The sky was streaked with pinks and oranges and the sun was setting behind the trees. It was beautiful. Dean and I spent a whole hour up there talking and laughing and not thinking of Art History for even one moment. When we got back to the library we’d been able to focus and study for a few more hours. And we both ended up passing that final. Maybe that break had been the reason.

Once it no longer looked like a crime scene had taken place in the kitchen, I got out everything we would need to make chicken noodle soup. It was one of my favorite comfort foods and simple to make. I tasked Dean with gathering ingredients and filling a pot up with water and bouillon while I mixed up the dough for the egg noodles.

“There.” I smiled, using my wrist to swipe away some hair that had fallen across my forehead. “Now we just need to roll it out and cut the noodles.” I turned to ask Dean which part he wanted to do and found him with his eyes already on me, a soft look on his face. “What?” I asked. “Did I get flour on my face?”

He took a small step closer, his eyes never leaving mine, and my breath hitched. He took another step toward me, trailing his fingers through the flour dusting the countertop. He was close enough that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. And I did want to.

Before I could move and close the distance between us, he quickly brought his hand to my face and swiped his flour covered fingers across my cheek. I gasped, my eyes going wide.

“Dean Michael Ellis, you did not just do that.”

A sly grin spread across his face, and he reached a hand back to the counter to cover it in more flour. But with the sticky dough already coating my hands a quick brush of the counter had me ready to go. I darted forward and gently slapped both my hands on his cheeks. He huffed out a laugh and jerked away from me. I smiled in satisfaction at the white handprints on either side of his face.

“I guess this means war.” He opened his fist, and I was too slow to realize what was happening before he blew a puff of flour at me. And then it really was war.

We chased each other around the kitchen throwing and swiping and blowing flour at each other until we were both covered from head to toe. My sides hurt from laughing so much, and I felt happier than I had since before Dean’s accident, before Grandpa had gotten sick, before my dad had married Charlotte.

Dean and I faced each other in a final stand-off across the kitchen counter. We each had two handfuls of flour and were staring each other down. I feinted left, and Dean followed, but I switched direction and chased him around the counter. I got close enough to open both of my hands over his head, letting the flour shower down onto him. He blinked and sputtered and I took advantage of his distraction by lightly tickling his sides, causing him to drop the flour in his hands.

“Hey! That’s playing dirty,” he exclaimed.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I think this whole thing was playing dirty,” I said, gesturing to our appearance. He laughed, and I reveled in the sound. Dean’s laugh was one of my favorite sounds, and I’d always loved being the one that brought it out of him.

He took my hand and tugged me closer to him. “You’ve got a little something right”—he cupped my chin in his hand and brushed his thumb across my cheekbone—“there.” He leaned down without warning and pressed his warm lips to my cheek. He must have left a white flour mark right where he’d just wiped some away, but I didn’t care in the least.

His lips were soft and warm and didn’t stay nearly long enough. He pulled away, and I stared up into his sparkling blue eyes. We were both standing barefoot and covered in flour in his kitchen, and I had never been more attracted to him.

“I, uh.” Dean cleared his throat, his voice sounding a little rough. “I think we should probably get cleaned up.”

I blinked, and it took me a minute to come down from the daze of being kissed by Dean. And it was only a kiss on the cheek. I could only imagine what a real kiss would be like. A real kiss from Dean Ellis, and I might never recover.

Dean

I think I wanted to kiss her. But I don’t think we were ready for that. Maybe if these were normal circumstances with normal people, it’d be fine. But this was Kasey and me. Best friends for years. Victims of amnesia. I’d told her that we should take it slow, and that’s what I was doing.

“Let’s clean up the kitchen, again,” Kasey said with a light laugh, “and then you can go and get changed while I finish the noodles.”

“What about you?”

“I can run home after you’re done, no big deal.” She shrugged and turned back to the counter.

“That’s silly. I have a perfectly good shower here, and you can just change into something of mine.” I could see the arguments forming in her mind, so I hurried on. “It makes way more sense. And that way, we can eat the soup warm.” I turned and headed up the stairs, not giving her the chance to refuse.

It took us longer than expected to clean up and shower. Apparently, wet flour doesn’t just magically melt away. It gets sticky and gross. I had a hard enough time getting it out of my hair. I could only imagine what Kasey was dealing with.

When she came down the stairs in my sweats and hoodie, hair dripping down her back, I had to fight the urge to grab her and kiss her despite all my good sense.

I cleared my throat before speaking. “You look comfortable.” My voice was still rougher than I’d hoped.

She nodded and smiled as she ran a brush through her hair. “So warm and so comfy.” She scrunched her shoulders up toward her ears and then dropped them back down with a happy sigh.

“Let’s eat,” I said quickly, needing to distract myself somehow. I grabbed two bowls from the cupboard and ladled out some delicious-smelling soup before carrying them to the table. We ate in companionable silence, only occasionally commenting on the food or the extra clean kitchen.

“What movie do you want to watch?” I asked after we finished eating. I walked over to the couch and plopped down. “I’m up for anything.”

“A few weeks before the accident, we watched The Hobbit , and we were going to start Lord of the Rings next. So we could watch that.”

I grinned. Those movies were some of my favorites. And maybe watching them would jog a memory or two. Kasey grabbed the remote and started to sit down on the couch. She definitely wasn’t close enough, though, so I grabbed her arm and tugged her toward me. She fell the rest of the way onto the couch, almost onto my lap.

“No need to sit so far away,” I said softly in her ear. She shivered, and I tried not to let my satisfaction show. I rested my chin on her shoulder as she looked up the movie and got it playing. Once she tossed the remote aside, I leaned back and pulled her with me.

I chuckled as she shifted around, trying to get comfortable. I knew that Kasey hadn’t had many boyfriends in college, and probably not in the last couple of years, either. I could practically see her thoughts spinning as she tried to figure out what to do with her arms and legs. I stretched out, resting my feet on the ottoman in front of us.

When she hesitated, I grabbed her legs and set them gently on top of mine. After a few seconds, she seemed to relax. She snuggled closer, tangling our legs and tucking herself into my side. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tried not to sigh as her hand came to rest on my chest.

And just like that, we watched the movie. At least, I tried to. I got distracted occasionally by Kasey’s breathing, the way Kasey smelled, the feel of Kasey pressed against the side of my body. But the two hours and fifty-eight minutes flew by, and I could have sat right there on the couch and watched the rest of those movies exactly like that.