"Rafe?" I pulled back and his lips simply dropped to my chin, and my throat and his hands to my hands, to entwine our fingers.

            "Aubrey..."

            "Rafe."

            "God, Aubrey."

            I turned my face away. "I said I'd come over."

            He let me go instantly wiping his face, his eyes wild. I was again startled. This was too intense of a reaction for the moment. We'd just spent a lovely afternoon and evening. Why was he acting all insecure? Hadn't the fact that I'd allowed him to kiss me on a first date-- hadn't the fact that I had said I'd come over for a little while tonight shown him how committed I was? I mean, this is commitment to finding out if you want to be in a relationship, right? Spending crazy time with them? I'd just spent crazy time with him. More than I'd ever, ever spent with another guy.

            He used the combination pad on his door and opened it, lights came on softly in the entryway and he pulled me inside. The house smelled delicious, like vanilla. I hadn't come this way yesterday, hadn't seen this part of it. As the lights came on, I could see a beautiful grand piano and a huge show off cabinet with glittering awards. I knew he had these awards somewhere in the back of my mind, but I wasn't super impressed. I mean, happy that he'd received them as they meant a lot in his industry. But as far as looking at them--well, I'd seen them.

            All of them. In my parent's showcase rooms, and we had a whole room for them, not merely a cabinet. And frankly, nobody ever went in those rooms.

            He wasn't taking me there anyway. He still had my hand and was pulling me along.

            "What do you want to do?" I asked, still feeling confused by his funny behavior. And now, his really strange desperate persona. He hadn't acted this way at all the whole day and a half I'd known him.

            He turned, right there in the hallway and cupped my cheeks, "I'm thinking."

            I rolled my eyes.

            He grinned, kissed me long and sweet, and then when I was fairly breathless, he rocked back on his heels. "I want to go night surfing." He said low, in a voice I will never forget, a voice reserved only for me, and for this incredible moment. "I want to play hockey, I want to go clubbing, I want to take you to meet my folks, and my band, and my friends, and I want to take classes in culinary arts so I can cook you a fantastic meal, I want to barbecue for you, I want to decorate my house with you, I want to go zip-lining with you, I want to do an obstacle course, go paint balling, take you to an IMAX theatre, go dirt bike riding, boulder hopping, go to the zoo--." He took a deep breath. "I want to go to Disneyland, I want to go to the Space Needle, I want to go to the Alamo, I want to walk through the giant cedars, I want to build sand castles, I want to write music, I want to make love---" He pressed his forehead to mine. "What are you doing to me?"

            My lips curved into a smile. "What do you want to do tonight?"

            "Make out on the beach." His eyes searched mine.

            I gave him a funny face. "How about make cookies and watch cartoons?"

            He blinked. I'd caught him completely off guard. "You're so Mormon." He was astonished.

            "I didn't ask you to read scriptures and watch General Conference."

            "After we make cookies and watch cartoons--what cartoons? Looney toons? Scooby Doo?"

            "Disney? Brave, or Wreck it Ralph? Tangled?"

            "Then can we go make out on the beach?"
*****

I let him go and went through the house to the kitchen which I was familiar with, and opened the pantry-- not the liquor pantry-- there was another one, and got out the flour bin, and the sugar bin I'd seen earlier. He was still standing where I'd left him. His entire body was tense.

Was he actually suffering deprivation right now? The thought made me pause, and made me squirm. He was used to bringing a girl home and making love to her-- all night. His house was too clean and fresh for him to be a smoker, and he seemed too health conscious to be suffering from a drug withdrawal. But, he was acting different.

He came to me, wrapped his arms around me, and began unzipping the hoodie. His fingers were not platonic. He was taking liberties and I squirmed uncomfortably as I retrieved a mixing bowl, and the measuring cup I'd also seen and marked earlier. He started kissing my neck.

I measured a teaspoon of vanilla, and cracked two eggs.

"Aubrey."

"I have those movies. Why don't you go over and get them? They're right in the den, by the sliding glass doors, in the TV cabinet."

He cupped my hand as I began to dump the flour into the bowl. He covered the top of the measuring cup, and I stared at it in slight frustration that he wasn't getting me. He wasn't honoring me the way he should be. He was persisting.

I turned the measuring cup over his hand and let the flour fall through his fingers. I don't know if he was surprised, but he let it all fall through and then when I measured out the sugar, I did the same thing and this time, hoping he would move his hand or back off so I could--

He grabbed my hand and shoved it into the bowl. The flour was cool, the broken eggs were squishy and kind of gross feeling, and then he started mashing them all with our hands.

And the--- before I could even register what he was doing, he had taken the flour bin and flung another handful in my face.

Disbelief! Complete and utter shock!

I placed both slimy palms on his counter, leaning on them for support, and to keep from throttling him. He had backed away now, expecting a food fight. I blew flour out of my eyes and nose and stared down at the ruined pre-cookies I'd been starting.

Did I want to start a food fight? It would be a big mess. We would have to clean it up tonight, and I was getting somewhat tired. Tired enough to relish a calmer close to the day. I looked down. My yellow bling shirt was covered in white powder.

I sighed. Rafe came back and encompassed me in his arms, wrapping them under my breasts around my rib cage.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"Are you?"

"Yeah. I really am. You're obviously not up for this tonight. Let's just go to bed."

I caught my breath. "And that my friend, is what you were aiming for all along."

He chuckled.

I slid my hand over to the open flour bin and quickly plastered a handful into his whiskers. I used both hands, both really messy hands, to rub it all in, all over his face.

His exclamation of shock was nothing I could explain. I ducked, as he reached for the flour bin.

"Aubrey!"

I screamed and backed into a corner near the liquor pantry. "If you throw that at me, I'll open the door. I swear, it'll be all over every single bottle in here!"

"You think that bothers me?" He advanced on me.

My hand on the doorknob turned threateningly. He stopped in the center of the room eyeing me carefully. I sidled to the left, watching for his next move.

"I'll shake these bottles and open them and spray them all over you...."

His brows rose. "That's creative. Do you think that bothers me?"

My other hand grabbed the door of the refrigerator next to the pantry and opened it like a shield. Rafe made his move, flinging the entire contents of his flour bin in my direction, getting it liberally in the refrigerator, on the pantry door and all over me. I reached inside the refrigerator, my hand scrambling for whatever I could reach. A water bottle. I twisted the top and flung water on him. It ran down his floury face in rivulets. I found a plastic container of something, opened it and flung it. It was a salad.

I found another premade smoothie--green. His eyes widened, and he reached behind him for the sugar bin.

"This is going to be the biggest mess ever!" I warned.

He shook his head. "I've seen bigger."

"I bet not in your kitchen."

He grabbed the refrigerator door and dumped the sugar on me as he leaped to the pantry and opened the door using it as a shield between him and the wall.

I couldn't wipe it off. My hands were covered in flour and slime and water. I reached for the refrigerator again and retrieved the pop I'd seen there. "I swear I'll open it. It'll be all over your pretty carpet."

Over the top of the pantry door came a rain fall of frozen peas. I screamed and ran across the room, spraying the pop. He flung back the door and advanced again, this time with a whip cream can. Now where had he gotten that? I just wanted to scream again. I pushed myself up on the counter, spraying the pop directly at him, his face was comical, and his eyes were level on me-- pursuing.

Behind his back he pulled a container like from a restaurant, a go box, and inside was leftover lasagna or something tomato.

"No!" I yelled, laughing. "No! Don't you dare!"

I stood on his counter, kicking ineffectually. The pop had run out. I threw the can at him, here came the lasagna. I fended it off, slapping at it so that it went on both of us. The whip cream was all over me, the tomato sauce running all over my clothes.

It was the worst food fight in the history of food fights, which honestly should be reserved for outdoors at camp!

"Rafe!" I screamed as he kept plastering me with whip cream. The bottle had to run out soon. I wiped it out of my eyes.

My feet were bare, I'd lost the shoes in the outer hallway, and so had he, but this-- I had nowhere to go. The kitchen was destroyed.
*****