redamancy || georgenotfound

thirteen

"Do not destroy my kitchen for the love of God," I warned George as I unlocked the door, stepping into the house. Ria had given me a forewarning that she would be at work, giving me the perfect time frame to let George in without getting bombarded with questions and pressure from Ria.

"Do you really think I'd do that?" George said with a loud eye roll.

"Yeah, after you accidentally knocked my sandwich out of my hands."

"Oh come on, that was an accident!" he exclaimed, and I let out a chuckle of satisfaction as I tossed my purse onto the couch. "This is a nice place." His tone switched from accusation to admiration in a mere three seconds.

"Thanks. Not my place, though," I reminded him, and quickly pulled up the Victoria Sponge Cake recipe on my phone. "Come on, can you take out the self-raising flour, baking powder, and sugar? They should be in the cabinet to my immediate left."

George nodded, and walked behind me as I washed my hands to grab the three ingredients from the cabinet. Once they were set on the countertop, he quickly lathered his hands with soap and rinsed, drying his hands with the paper towel I tossed him. "What are we making?" he inquired curiously, leaning over to check the recipe displayed on my screen.

"Victoria Sponge Cake. It's easy and fast. Okay, wait, we need strawberries and jam," I noticed, and located those ingredients from the fridge. "Then softened butter, margarine, whipping cream, eggs, confectioners sugar."

"Easy and fast," George mocked as he gathered the ingredients as I listed them off.

"Shut up frat boy."

George wrinkled his nose at the sudden name-throw. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

I laughed at his confusion while measuring out the ounces of the ingredients. "It's funnier if you don't know."

"You're rude," he attempted a scowl, but caved in when I convinced him to begin whipping the whipped cream to firm peaks. "This needed preparation beforehand to be easy and fast."

"Okay whatever, I take that back. But it's not like you have anything to do for the rest of the day, don't you?" I looked over at him and saw his eyes narrow in defeat, which formed a victorious smile on my face. I swiftly bounced past him to preheat the oven and make sure he wasn't making a mess all over the countertop.

"Oh don't gloat on me now," George complained over the loud noises of the electric hand mixer. "I bet you don't have anything, either."

I shrugged and pulled out two 8-inch baking pans to begin lightly greasing the bottoms of them. "You'll never know. Maybe I have plans later."

George scoffed. "Yeah right."

"Do you have plans later?" I shot the question back to him. His glare at me was enough of an answer, and I happily greased the rest of the pan before moving onto the next one while George finished whipping the cream.

"I have friends," he argued as he turned off the hand mixer and set it down tiredly.

"I never said you didn't."

"You are irritating," he commented in defeat before aggressively snatching my phone from the counter to read the instructions. "Large bowl, sift the flour and baking powder together. I'll do that." George quickly grabbed a large bowl and sieve and tossed the heap of baking powder and flour into the sieve. I watched as he impatiently tapped on the silver rim, observing the fine powder falling through the holes.

Our banter went on for the rest of the process to prep the cake batter, and once the two pans began its time in the oven, George had yet begun another argument that resulted in my temptation to throw the roll of baking sheets at his face.