October 18th 2020
Prompt: Cole's terrible cooking

*******

  "They say you're a bad cook." I leaned over the counter as Cole scrolled through his playlists.

  "I'm sure you've heard the exaggerated stories." Cole bemused.

  "Ghost stories. Horror stories." I snickered. "I think Zane tried begging me by listing off all the safety hazards. You can't be that bad, right?"

  Cole hesitated for a moment, causing my brow to scrunch before he hastily answered. "No, of course not."

  He offered me a sweet smile. "Thanks for doing this for me Gwendolyn- I mean Gwen! It's my mom and dad's anniversary and since mom passed dad is always really down in the dumps. I wanted to make him something special."

  Aw, this dude. He's honestly just a slightly buffer version of a cuddly, cake-filled, puppy.

  "Can't say I'm a good cook either." I admitted as I washed my hands. "I mostly nuke my foods to Zane's disdain but I couldn't think of an excuse not to come. Are you sure you don't want to ask some else's girlfriend? I heard Kai's girlfriend is the daughter of a chef."

  "She is scary." Cole said, dead serious. The actual fear was written on his face. I chuckled.

  "She can't be that bad." I shook my head. "I've scared you before and I'm just a slightly clumsier version of a human being!"

  "It's not funny!" Cole said defensively. "She's legitimately scary!"

  "Fine, fine!" I raised my wet hands in surrender. "So. What are we making?"

"Cupcakes!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Cupcakes? I could do those in my sleep! But just so you know red velvet batter does not include puréed fabric from your mother's furniture."

"Duly noted." Cole chuckled.

"Okay, so where's the recipe?" I asked.

  "Oh, I don't have one." Cole said casually.

  Hokay, that's fine. No recipe, warnings of bad baking skills... I was getting this weird feeling of dread. Like something bad was about to happen.

  Cole got out a bowl and began throwing stuff into it. I watched as he grabbed random containers and just yeeted them into the mixing bowl.

  That pit began to form as my face slowly slipped from one of nonchalance to one of horror.

What have I done?