Chapter 13- In which its time for some action.

"Smells delicious!" Nate said as he came into the kitchen, hair still wet from his shower, towel draped over his shoulders and his midnight hair falling all over his forehead. The view would’ve been a hundred times better if a towel was the only thing he was wearing, but alas! He was wearing a light grey t-shirt and black pajama bottoms.
"Hope it tastes good too," I answered, stirring the spaghetti one last time before adding some freshly grated parmesan over it.
I took a serving dish from the cabinet and poured my Spaghetti Carbonara into it, adding some finely chopped parsley over the top. Thank God, Nate's kitchen had all the necessary utensils to make dinner. In fact, it was just like my dream kitchen with everything that a cook would ever need.
His fridge however, was an entirely different story. The only edible things that I found in it were some skimmed milk, a little bit of cream, a couple eggs, a half-used cube of parmesan and a few herbs, that still looked green enough to eat. So I had quickly made use of the ingredients and then added the spaghetti that I found in the pantry, thankfully. Not much, but I hope this would do. I was dying of hunger anyway and even this ten minute meal felt like an eternity.
"Of all the things that I could find in a man's fridge...why was there milk and cream?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
Nathan looked sheepish when he answered. "I like to have hot chocolate at least once a day, so I always have milk and whipped cream at hand," he said with the expression of a boy whose mother had caught him red handed with his hands in the cookie jar.
I laughed at his reply. "Nathan Synclair and hot chocolate?" Hot Damn! If only I knew this secret when we were still in High school. It would have ruined his reputation. Completely.
"What are you laughing at?" he looked cute when he scowled.
"Oh nothing. Just wondering what everyone's reaction would have been in high school if they'd learned that Mr. Badass Player was fond of hot chocolate instead of Whiskey and Beer." I said chuckling.
"Oh, honey!" He smirked, I raised an eyebrow, "No one would have believed the A-grade nerd." He winked at me.
Now it was my turn to scowl. "Jeez! No need to rub it in." I turned back to clean the counter of any spills.
Suddenly, I felt two strong arms wrap around my waist and tug me back to a hard muscled chest. His body was still cool from the shower, but his breath was hot on my cheeks.
"If it feels any better, I think you grew out of that phase a long time ago. No one will ever mistake you for a nerd again." And just like that, a smile crept up my lips.
"Alright, now sit down. Dinner's ready," I shoved him towards the little dining table right next to the kitchen as I gathered the spaghetti and a bottle of wine and headed to the table myself.
But when I reached the table however, I saw Nate with a faraway look on his face. "What's wrong?" I asked, setting the food down on the table and sitting opposite him.
"My mom would always make Spaghetti on a Monday night. Something about it being a tradition that has been passed down through generations in her house. She wanted me to do the same, when I had a family of my own," his voice was a whisper, his eyes wet. "After she was gone...I tried, but...and today you-"
"I continued that tradition unknowingly…" I finished his sentence a bit uncertainly, placing my hand over his as it lay on top of the table. Now I was doubting my choice of dinner. Was it too much for him? Did I make a mistake?
"Thank you," Nate whispered instead, wiping at his eyes and offering me a dazzling smile as he gave my hand a squeeze. I felt relief wash over me instantly.
"Now let's eat!" I said taking a fork in my hand, and just to remind me of how hungry I was, my stomach growled like a werewolf, making Nathan laugh.
Dinner passed by quickly and soon we were sitting on his couch, wine glasses in hand and talking about good old days, laughing at silly memories and since Nate was still my boss, he even snuck in some business talk.
“I never got to ask you,” he said as he sipped on his wine. “How did you become such a good cook?”
“Well, I worked in the kitchen a lot.” I shrugged. “First at the foster care house and then I took up a part time job at a restaurant to save up for college and afford rent at a dormitory once I turned eighteen. It helped me learn a skill or two as well as helped me earn money. Turns out, I was good at cooking too.”
Nathan was frowning when I finished. “I’m sorry I never tried to understand how hard your life was. Instead, I ended up making your life even more difficult.”
“Well, I was used to it,” I lied, because the past was in the past and I didn’t want to remember that time except for the fact that I had survived. “Plus, you used to give me money for completing your assignments, remember? That helped too.”
“If you say so…” Nate didn’t look convinced so I decided to change the subject.
"Hey, do you have my phone?" I asked after a while.
Nathan had offered me a clean pair of cargo pants and one of his smallest tees to wear after I took a quick warm shower, since I hadn’t taken once yesterday. And even though I had argued about staying here, Nate had forced me to stay, telling me that he'd lock me up in a dark room alone if I didn't do as he said. So I was staying in his guestroom for the night, not that I was complaining sleeping on a super-soft bed for the night. But I still needed to check my phone to see if Samuel had sent me some news.
"Yeah, I grabbed it on my way out of your apartment, it was next to the lock. It's in your room, I'll go get it," he said getting up.
"Oh, sit down! I remember the way," I said, getting up and heading to the room I woke up in.
And there it was, my age old cell phone which could even be considered an antique, sitting on a shiny mahogany side table to the left of the bed.
I opened the lock and saw a message from Samuel, as usual. He usually always sends me a good night or a good morning message every day accompanied with some hearts.
Expecting the same, I opened the text, but what lay inside had my heart racing as my palms began to sweat.
Daddy dearest is out on vacation. It's time for us to make a move.
P.S: Delete this message after you read it and don't trust anyone with our secrets.
Looks like it's finally time for some action.