Coloring Outside the Lines

Chapter Seventeen

"Mini corndogs it is," Jacob says after a moment of silence.

And I mentally cry myself to sleep, because if this is the payment I get for trying to cook, I will never touch another cooking utensil again.

Do forks and spoons count as cooking utensils?

Besides those.

Jacob merrily opens the freezer and pulls out the box of mini corndogs. I frown at him, and turn away. Too disgusted in the food choice to even look at him. I just wanted macaroni.

I go up the stairs, stomping each one purposely, to make my point. I hope these steps shatter on your mini corndogs, Jacob. How do you like them now, huh? Mmm, debris.

I can't find any energy or will power inside of me to even stand, so I put a hand to my head and faint onto the couch like a distressed princess. Maybe I shall take a nap.

Yes, yes. That sounds wonderful.

No, not wonderful because the weight of the couch shifts. I let out a huff of air and sit up to see what evil creature has betrayed my slumber.

My eyes widen. "Oh, hey Ray." I try to sound casual. "How, uh, how long have you been there?"

He laughs. "Long enough."

My face flushes. Of course. World, you really have it out for me today. Thanks, I appreciate it.

"You were really serious about the whole 'I-can't-cook-to-save-my-life-or-anyone-else's-for-that-matter' thing, huh?" Ray laughs again.

I slap his arm. "Hey, not everyone can be chef man with hands made of..." Kitchen utensils, kitchen utensils, think! "Knifes."

I bury my face into my hands. Shame. I am a shame. Really? Knifes? I am an official idiot. I used to be a regular idiot, but now I'm an official idiot.

"I'm pretty sure if I had hands made of knifes we would all be dead right now," Ray chuckles.

Say something, he's looking at you.

"Uh, yeah, unless you chopped your own arms off, hah. Hah."

This is going great. If I were trying to get fired from a job. Then yeah, I'd be doing swell. Facepalm.

Ray laughs, shakes his head. "You're too... You're so... Jordan."

"Wow, way to compliment me," I roll my eyes.

"Hey, it's a good thing okay?" He smiles. "I've never met anyone like you. You're one of a kind."

I find a smile prying its way onto my face. I can't suppress it. "You too," I tap my chin. "Not sure if is good or not, though..."

"Real funny. Real funny."

It is actually, I crack myself up. I'm a freaking comedian. Although things sound better in my head than when I actually say them.

"Your brother's nice," Ray says. I snort. "Nice, like funny. And cool," he corrects himself.

"Yeah, you think that," I sigh. "Until you live with him."

"It seems I will be living with him for a few days now."

"Ah, touché, Ray." Hah, touché Ray. Rhymes. Touché Ray. Touché Ray. Hah.

Ray sighs. I sigh. Ray sighs. I sigh. Ray sighs. I sigh. Ray sighs. This seems vaguely familiar. And I sigh. And Ray sighs. And I sigh. And Ray sighs. And I shove him off the couch.

"I hate that game," I tell him.

"Hey, you have no reason to complain," Ray says, "The first time I was elbowed in the face. The second time... Well, I'm on the ground." Stops. Looks at the carpet beneath him. "Hello floor." Turns to me, "I think the floor and I are better friends than me and you are."