Page 82 of Soulmateless
How good is the lighting in this bathroom?
“What are you doing?” I swing my head to Clara squinting from the door. “Are you getting ready to go downstairs?”
“Well...” I glance back into the mirror. “I… I was but-”
Clara approaches and grabs me by the wrist, dragging me towards the door. "There's no need, Captain Prettyface." She smirks before pulling me out of her apartment and into the hall.
“Captain Prettyface?” What kind of nickname is that?
“Well since you're so focused on how pretty your face looks,” she rolls her eyes. “Now let's go.”
I let her take the lead, almost too tired to really process what is happening. Maybe this eye color thing isn't a big deal. It's just odd that it would look so differently all the sudden. I mean, last night they were a duller shade.
No. I should let it go. Now is the time to have fun. I'm sure it's nothing more than weird lighting that I'm tempted to install in my room.
Chapter 30
Ignatia
We mix dough on top of the shiny counters in the shelter’s kitchen, competing to determine who will make the better bread. We got our bowls and some other ingredients from the wood cabinets above. It's a bit of a tight space between counters on one side and the oven and other machines on the other. Around the corners of the counters is a living room area, with a sofa and a TV they call it.
"You know, the yeast you guys have looks different." I stare at the yeast as it bubbles with the water and sugar in my small bowl. I purse my lips before looking at Amias who is adding his yeast mixture to his flour.
"What else is it supposed to look like?" Amias immediately starts to hum as he stirs his dough together.
"Not little pellets. It's supposed to be a big block you cut a piece from." I watch Amias mix in silence. Soon enough, he starts kneading the dough. It’s mesmerizing to see him work like a street magician for little kids.
He must have done this many times before.
"You seem to know what you are doing." I angle my head to get a better view.
"I guess I've been doing this for a while." He shrugs as he keeps kneading. “Mother and I would bake bread a lot growing up.”
I glance back to my bowl with rye and cornmeal. It doesn’t look nearly as good.
I smirk at the flour bag Amias’ using, standing beside his bowl. It’s very light weight and sticky, easy to make a mess out of.
Would it be terrible of me to make a little mess for competition sake?
I dig in the bag to get a bit of flour before flicking it at him, making a mess on his shirt and some parts of his face.
He furrows his brows and groans, "Hey!"
I chuckle a moment, but it drifts off as he scrunches his nose at me. Suppressing my laughter, I glance away to my bowl and force a frown. "Sorry."
Oh Godusa… does this mean I’ve exposed myself? Is Amarian humor that much different from mine? What was I thinking, trying to mess around with Amara’s-
The sudden feeling of a soft substance on my face interrupts my thoughts. My eyes widen when he sweetly snorts.
I slowly turn to Amias, who is trying to maintain a scowl, but with his cheeks puffed and his eyes twinkling with laughter, his silly intentions are given away. He has his hand covered in flour, and I wipe my cheek to see flour smudged on my fingers.
I snicker to myself as Amias snorts again before completely succumbing to a fit of laughter.
His infectious laugh spreads to me as I dig into the bag to scoop more flour. He steps back slowly, still chuckling. "No, you don't!"
I throw the flour at him and he runs off laughing, rushing to the other side of the counter. He bounces his knees, ready to run. I grab some more flour and give into the chase.
"Stop!" He goes around the corner to the living room area. He creeps backwards behind the gray couch. “We have to clean up afterwards!”
