Page 21 of Becoming Cinderella

Like I’ve been splashed with cold water, I’m back to reality. This was all just an act. Just a way to show me what could have happened if the night went according to plan. If a dumb soccer game hadn’t been more important. That’s all this was, a simple role play.

“Whoa, why do you look sad again?” Liam scoops up some dough and hands it to me. “Here. Maybe this will help?”

I don’t take any dough though as I allow myself back to my sad thoughts.

“Carter? Hello!” He picks up a pinch of flour and tosses it at me.

I take a step back, surprised as I watch a small cloud of flour settle on my shirt.

“Did you just flick flour on me?”

Liam gives me a shrug, looking at me like he’s unsure. “Maybe.”

I gather a small pinch of flour that has settled on the counter from when it shot out of the bowl. “Well, maybe I flicked some back.” I toss it at him before he knows what I’m doing.

He sticks his hand in the bag of flour, grabbing a large handful. I try to spin away from him but his reflexes are quicker than mine as he smears it across my face. He throws me a scheming smile as I shoot him a glare.

I reach over him towards the bag of flour but he realizes what I’m doing and goes to move the flour out of my reach. Fortunately, I’ve already grabbed a small handful and I hold it up to ready my aim. He reaches out to try to stop me, but I throw the flour at him like it’s a snowball before he successfully is able to restrain my arms. He holds both wrists firmly in one of his hands as he reaches for his own handful in retaliation. I try to spin away from him but his grasp keeps me from getting too far. He pulls me in towards him, my heart thunders as my back presses against him as he wraps his right arm around me to keep me in place.

“This is a war you’re not prepared for.” He reaches around me and throws another handful at my face.

“Liam!” I cough through the cloud of flour as he lets go of his hold on me.

I find myself wishing he hadn’t let me go, and again, what are these thoughts?

He picks up the bag of flour and holds it above his head so it’s out of reach from me.

“You look like a ghost.” He laughs.

I can’t help but laugh too, because he also looks like one. His blue eyes on his flour covered face are almost hypnotizing.

We don’t say anything as we just look at each other, my attention drifting to his mouth when someone clears their throat behind us. We both freeze before I slowly turn around to face my mother. Her mouth is pressed into a straight line and I notice she’s clenching her jaw. She’s the current poster child of a mother about to yell at her child, but I silently pray she will wait until Liam is gone to start yelling. Her eyes look from me to Liam, narrowing slightly at his flour covered frame, before back to me.

“Sorry Mom,” I quickly say, standing up straight like I’m some military cadet. Whatever moment Liam and I were just sharing is gone. “We’ll clean it right up.” I give Liam a side glance before pulling out two clean rags from a drawer and tossing him one.

“I thought Jared was the one coming over?” She says instead, her tone the equivalent of being scolded in the grocery story with a wait-until-we-get-home attitude.

“He was. He ended up canceling though, so Liam came instead.”

Liam doesn’t look at my mom as he busies himself next to me by starting to wipe up the flour on the counter, trying to work fast as he keeps his head down.

“We’ll talk about it later.” She says to me before turning her attention to the current flour-based winter wonderland. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, perhaps trying to find a happy place in her mind that isn’t the current state of the kitchen. She slowly opens them and pins me with her stare. “I want this kitchen spotless.”

There’s an underlying threat there, and I turn to Liam with wide eyes as she exits the kitchen. I expect her to go back upstairs to her room, but instead she walks into the adjoining living room and sits on the couch, grabbing a nearby book and flipping to a page in the middle. I don’t even think that’s her book, but I don’t comment on it. It’s obvious she isn’t going to leave Liam and I alone like she’s some chaperon, or maybe more appropriately, a babysitter.

Liam and I work in silence as we quickly try to clean up the mess. I can’t even bring myself to look at him because I’m mortified. I drop to my hands and knees to wipe up the flour on the floor as Liam wipes at the flour that found its way onto the cupboards. I’m not sure how much time has passed, the tension floating in from the living room making time seem like it slowed down, but we finally finish cleaning.

Liam and I take a step back to admire our work, the only evidence we were baking cookies coming from the bowl of dough on the counter, the half-filled cookie sheet and our two ghost-like figures.

“I guess I should be going, I’ve got an early call time tomorrow.” Liam says, picking up his keys he had placed earlier on the kitchen table. “Goodnight Mrs. Adams,” he says before he heads towards the front door, not waiting for her response like he knows he isn’t going to get one.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, not wanting my mom to overhear us once we’re at the front door. Although I won’t be surprised if she's straining to overhear our conversation right now.

“It’s okay.” I tell him, my voice slightly above his whispered volume as I open the door.

My mom will have to eventually get over it, right? The kitchen is practically sparkling now.

I then realize what he had said. “You have to be at set early tomorrow?” I didn’t know this, and it was already past 10:00.

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