Elena's P.O.V.
"I read somewhere that a girl's voice turns higher when she is attracted to you," Carl said with a mouthful of fresh waffles, pointing at me with a grin.
"Huh," I murmured, baking another waffle in the iron-waffle my grandmother sent from Norway. "Not weird they sound like Batman around you."
Although my back was facing him, I could still feel his eyes narrowing in a sharp glare - my senses felt its blade. "Now, that's just mean. And for your information, Marie, I'm a ten."
"Yeah, on a PH-scale," I turned around, putting the plate of fresh-baked waffles on the kitchen island.
His diamond-blue eyes squinted, not understanding my insult. "I know you're offending me, but I don't get it."
A smile crawled on my lips as I pulled out a chair to sit across the older boy. The iron had shaped the waffles like five hearts in one piece, which I found joy in as it reminded me of the beautiful memories when I lived in Norway.
I took one, tearing a heart piece apart to eat. "So, they didn't ruin anything?" My words gestured to the last night's party. "Lucas and his 'gang'?"
The blonde-haired boy shook his head. "Nah, they were chill," he put some jam on his eleventh waffle, copying my way of eating the sweet. "Though I would've preferred that no highschoolers came at my parties at all. No offense, but you guys are cringe."
An air of laughter snorted out of my nose, "Oh, tell me about it."
"God, this tastes so good," he groaned, his mouth overfilled with waffles. "Why haven't you made this earlier? Do you know how long I have been waiting for you to make this deliciousness?"
"Because of that," I pointed as he stuffed two waffles in his mouth.
After almost choking on the food and coughing for air, he spoke. "I need the recipe. My life can't go on without it."
"First of all, it's in Norwegian. Second of all, no. It's my grandmother's secrecy." After slicing a piece of brown cheese (sent from Norway as well by my lovely grandma), I looked up to meet his eyes while eating the waffle with the cheese on top.
Carl gave me a sullen face. "Oh, come on! Can't I be a part of the secrecy?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Listen, you walked into my house without knocking and without calling me beforehand, and now you're sitting in my kitchen and eating all of my food. Now, find your manners and stop stalking me."
"Please, stalking you is a waste of time; your life is boring. It was the smell that brought me here, Marie, not you. Besides, it would be rude of you to not share this delicacy with me."
I rolled my eyes, annoyed by his way of caviling about some waffles, "For Claus' sake. Listen, the day I give you this recipe is the day I leave this world. Now shut up and enjoy your fifteenth waffle."
"It's sixteenth now, Ms. Know-it-all."
Such a brilliant family I got here.
"Bollocks, is it three o'clock already? I need to submit an essay in an hour. Bloody hell, I'm so screwed now." Carl has a habit to use British swear words whenever he's stressed.
Don't ask me, he was like this when I found him.
The blonde-haired boy hastily ran to the hall, forgetting his phone that lay on the table. I said nothing, just patiently waited for him to realize it himself.
Carl came running back, slammed his hand over the device and sprinted a second time. Again, I sat on my chair, waiting for the last bit to come.
Just as I expected, the college guy came running back, took the entire tower of waffles and fled. "Thank you for the food! I love you!"
And then he was gone. For real this time.
My head shook with a quiet laugh that fell from my lips, He's such an idiot.
I did not mind Carl's selfish action to take the entire tray. In fact, I was prepared for this to happen. Walking towards the cabinets, I pulled out another bowl of batter and began baking a new round of waffles.
Finding my phone and speaker, I turned on Shawn Mendes' song Treat You Better, blasting it loudly in my kitchen.
"I know I can treat you better than he can," I sang and danced, loving how the catchy tune brought energy to my body.
"And any girl like you deserves a gentleman
Tell me why are we wasting time
On all your wasted crying
When you should be with me instead
I know I can treat you better," my voice was loud and clear as I did not hold any confidence back.
"Better than he can!"
Although I basically shouted the last line, drowning myself in the pleasingly loud music, I could still hear the doorbell cry repeatedly after me.
I sighed, subduing the song and putting the waffle-iron away. "I'm coming!" My shout seemed to go ignored as the ringing continued. Rolling my eyes, I speed-walked to the door with a kitchen towel to dry my hands. "What the. . ."
On the other side of the door stood the most bizarre sight I have seen; their eyes just as confused as mine.
"Carl?" The college guy is usually calm and low-key, he reflects fun and harmony, not a cold rage. Therefore, it was strange to see him out of his character.
Those diamond-colored orbs were not filled with smiles, they were icy and hard, glaring down at the two boys kneeling at our feet. From the way Carl and his friend scowled, I could tell that this was not a prank.
"We found these two lurking in your backyard," Carl's friend from college - Mikkel, I think it was - said. The grip on the boy he was holding did not loosen, and I did not expect it either considering that he was a powerful wrestler and black-belted in Judo.
That boy is stuck.
My eyebrows furrowed, and I glanced at the one Mikkel was holding. The brown-haired's features seemed familiar, but due to him shielding his face from me, I could not pin a memory on him.
However, I recognized the boy in Carl's hand right away. "Adam?"
"Oh, so you know this creepy stalker?" My blonde-haired friend asked, pulling the football player's collar to meet my face. Though I should be focused on Adam, I could not help but let my gaze spill over Carl's other hand that still held onto the plate of waffles.
Even in a moment of seriousness, he is not giving up on food.
"He's not a creepy stalker, he's. . ." I could not find words to defend the black-haired boy. Carl might be a sly prankster, always making me suspicious of everything he does, but my trust lies with him. "Adam, what the heck are you doing here?"
"I'm not stalking you, I promise, it's not what it looks like," he quickly started, meeting my eyes with an apologetic look.
"Really?" Carl questioned, his eyes narrowing. "So, I guess Mikkel and I were just hallucinating when we saw you guys peering through the kitchen window." His blue eyes spilled over his friend, "Mikkel, I guess we both need to go to the hospital to check ourselves for schizophrenia."
"You what?" Now embarrassment was rising in me, filling the holes of rage.
"No, listen, I can explain," Adam's desperate tone made me bite down my further accusations, waiting for him to reason his odd actions. "I saw a stranger inside your house, and I just wanted to make sure that you were. . . okay."
"That stranger was me, you bloody knobhead," Carl interrupted, offended. "And for your information, Adam, I am no stranger to Marie. She even invited me- okay, well no, not really, but she didn't throw me out."
I leaned on the door-frame, shaking my head with a faint sigh.
"Do you want us to call the police, Elena?" Mikkel asked with a gentle tone, his black skin glistening with sweat as his runner clothes almost melted into him.
My finger went to rub my eyebrows tiredly, "It's fine. I'll handle the rest of it. Thank you, and please, help this idiot with his essay." I pointed at Carl who rolled his eyes and quietly cursed out British swear words.
"I'm going to keep an eye on you," my fair-haired friend pointed two fingers at his own eyes before turning them to Adam. "If you lurk around Marie's house again, I won't hesitate to bring the entire wrestling team, you hear me?"
I couldn't read the black-haired boy's expression, but whether he was frightened or not, he nodded without exposing an emotion.
In the end, the college guys left, leaving me to deal with two high schoolers. Carl was still fuming when he walked away, but his anger quickly sobered when he devoured a waffle, happily sharing some with Mikkel.
And soon enough, my friend was back to his old, joyous self.
"You're all crazy," Adam's friend spoke for the first time, quickly running away. It was at that moment that I caught a clear glimpse of him, and I recognized him as the driver of the red car.
I wanted to confront him but knew that I had to prioritize my energy. "What were you even doing in my neighborhood in the first place? Don't you think it's a bit weird to watch someone inside their own house?"
"I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean to pry or anything, it just. . . it just happened." He sighed, red of shame. "You looked so uncomfortable around him that I thought-"
"Uncomfortable? No. Annoyed? Heck yes." Words were quick to correct and answer his silent query. "Carl is my friend, Adam. Nothing more and nothing less."
"Such a friend you have that doesn't even know your name."
His harsh statement surprised me, making me stagger due to the shock that pulled me backward. Not only were his words rude, but they were wrong.
What has crawled in his pants?
I was about to clarify that Marie is my middle name and defend Carl and myself, but instead, I found myself not saying anything.
I don't need to explain myself.
My silence made him realize his sharp words. The way his face fell told me that he regretted his words.
"Elena, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me. I just-"
I raised my hand to mute him. "It's okay. Don't worry about it," a faint smile reached my lips, trying to be understanding. He was still getting through a hefty breakup, still healing from the cut of betrayal. "Your behavior is out of character, and I know that you're not usually like this."
Although he nodded, I could still see the abashed expression. "I came here to drop this off," he handed me The Maze Runner book I gave him under my recommendations.
My heart ached for him, feeling sorry for his messy state. His hair was untamed, and dark circles seemed to shadow his eyes.
Taking the book out of his hand, I softly pulled him by his wrist. "Come inside, you idiot. I have some Norwegian waffles you need to try."
Always be kind. Everyone is fighting a war you know nothing about. To give hurtful words back as a payment will do no one good; it never makes a person fly.