Jared

 

 

 

The first thing I notice is the smell. I scrunch my nose as the elevator approaches the top floor. It smells like something is burning, but the smell is so faint that I can't say for sure. I begin to worry when I notice the smell getting stronger - and lose my shit when the doors open and I'm welcomed by a thick cloud of smoke obscuring most of my living room and the entrance area. The scene is accompanied by the shrieking sound of my fire alarm.

"Button!"

I dart into the apartment, covering my mouth as the thick, hot smoke burns my lungs. I hear the sounds of her coughing coming from the kitchen, which seems to be the source of the blinding clouds. I can barely detect her through all the smoke, but I see her holding a fire extinguisher, helplessly fiddling with it as she tries to get it to work.

"How does this fucking thing wo-"

She's consumed then by a terrible coughing fit, and I rush to her side, grabbing the fire extinguisher from her hands and removing the cap. It's now that I finally recognize the source of the fire. It looks like my entire stove is encased in flames, even though they appear to be surprisingly small considering the amount of smoke. I push Button to the side, stepping in front of her before I release the foam jet.

She yelps, hopefully in surprise and not pain, as I aim at the smoldering flames. The extinguisher is so powerful that it stops the fire within just a few seconds, and as soon as I can be sure there are no more flames, I toss the extinguisher aside and grab her, dragging her out of the kitchen and toward the living room window. The giant panoramic windows don’t open, but there's a row of smaller windows right above them that can be opened with the flip of a switch. The fire alarm is still shrieking when the windows open far above us, letting in currents of fresh air. I can feel the effect immediately, as breathing becomes so much easier within seconds.

Button is coughing next to me, holding nimbly to my suit jacket. I turn around to her, holding her by the shoulders so she faces me.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?!"

She looks up at me, covering her mouth as another coughing fit overcomes her.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I-"

"Are you sure?"

Her eyebrows furrow. "Yes, damn it. I’m fine."

"What the hell were you doing in there?!" I yell at her. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"I was trying to cook for you!" she snaps back.

"Cook what? An open fire barbeque?"

She glares at me. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I destroyed your kitchen. I didn't mean to!"

"Fuck the kitchen! Why would I worry about that?!"

Her face changes into a mixture of outrage and confusion. "Isn't that why you're so mad at me? Because I fucked up your kitchen..."

I'm startled by her assumption, but not as much as I am by the realization that she's completely wrong. I didn't think about my damn kitchen for one second. I only thought about her. The thought that she could be hurt just tore my insides apart, and when I saw her standing there, completely lost and helpless with that damn extinguisher...

"No, I'm not mad at you," I say softly. "I was just..."

"Worried?" she asks. "About me?"

A cheeky grin widens on her pretty face, and in that same moment, the fire alarm quiets. The place is still congested with smoke, but opening the windows has helped to freshen the air enough so that we’re able to see, even though the smell is still unbearable.

Button sighs with relief. "God, that sound was annoying."

I huff. "It might save both of our lives, if you ever try to cook again. How did this happen?"

She sighs again, casting me a look that I've never seen on her face before. It reminds me of a little kid who's grumpy that she got caught doing something naughty.

"I... I might have forgotten that I had things on the stove and...," she bites her lower lip, visibly embarrassed. "And I think there was some plastic bags or wrapping lying right next to the pan. Things got too hot and kinda’... caught fire?"

"Kinda’ caught fire?" I repeat. "Where were you? How could you forget about turning the stove on?"

"I...," she utters, turning around and pointing toward the seating area in the back of the room. One of the armchairs has been moved closer to the window and there's a blanket lying on top of it, along with her laptop. "I was writing."

"You were writing? Right there? How could you not have noticed?!"

I didn't mean to raise my voice at her again, but she leaves me no other choice.

How could she have been so careless? And what kind of excuse is this?

"You were right there!" I yell at her, pointing toward the armchair. "How could you not notice the fire just a few feet away from you?"

"Well, first of all, it's more than just a few feet away," she retorts, waving her arms in a wild gesture. "This is a damn hall. Who the hell has a living room shaped like this! It's not like I was sitting right next to the kitchen, it's all the way ov-"

"I don't want to hear this," I cut her off. "This is ridiculous."

She glares at me, biting her lower lip as if she was stopping herself from saying something stupid, something that would infuriate me even further.

I leave her side and walk back to the kitchen to inspect the damage now that the smoke has cleared and the fire alarm is no longer ringing in my ears.

It's not as bad as I expected. From what I can tell, she hadn't done much more than start boiling some water in a giant pot, probably to cook pasta. The pasta is still lying right next to the stove, though it’s been turned into a batch of charcoal-black sticks. It's hard to tell what else she had planned to make because the area around the stove is pretty messy and black.

"I really am sorry."

Her voice, coming from behind me, sounds small.

"I know you're going to punish me for this."

I turn around to look at her and am met with a face that makes my heart ache. It pains me to think that she expects me to punish her for something like this. She does deserve punishment for a lot of things, but definitely not for this.

"Don't be ridiculous. It was an accident," I say. "Things like this happen, even though I'm still not quite clear how it did."

She presses her lips together and crosses her arms as if to embrace herself.

"I was distracted."

"I shall say!"

Her expression changes to a frown. "You don't understand! It's... difficult, when you're writing."

"You're right, I don't understand. And I don't think I need to - just don't let it happen again."

She's still frowning at me, sadness in her eyes, but she nods reluctantly. "Yeah."

"You know I don't like that response," I tell her. "Besides you really need to-"

"I get it, okay?!"

Her sudden change in temper surprises me, but only for a moment before my bewilderment changes to anger. No one, absolutely no one, yells at me like that, and especially not her.

She inhales audibly when I approach her, but she doesn't try to escape when I reach for her arm. I yank her close and then grab her damn ponytail and pull on it, forcing her head back into her neck.

She grimaces with pain. "So much for not punishing me."

"This is not for almost burning my place down, Button," I hiss at her. "This is for raising your voice to me."

Her eyes flicker, but she doesn't say a word.

"Never speak to me like that again, do you understand?"

Our eyes are locked onto each other as I await her response. She knows what I want to hear, but it's still hard for her to say it. Understandably.

"Yes, Sir."

The words sound forced and lack the sincerity I prefer, but I'll take it for now. I let go of her hair, but I don't let go of my embrace. I like her pushed up against my body like this. Her heart is racing against my chest, and I can feel the outline of her delicate features pressed against my hip. Tonight may be the night.

"Get changed," I tell her. "We're going out to eat."

She looks at me questioningly, causing me to sigh.

"We can't eat here. I'll have someone come over and clean up the mess you created. Hopefully the kitchen will be as good as new by the time we get home tonight."

Her expression changes to disbelief. "I don't think that's possible."

"A lot is possible when you're me. Now, go get dressed."

I give her a kiss on the forehead, something that surprises both of us. Her face is laced with confusion when I let go of her and beckon her to walk up to the bedroom to change.

Why did you just do that? The question is written all over her pretty face, but I can't give her an answer.

Because I don't know.