Do we do that? I mean, its in a jar, right? Cant you just dump it over the pasta?
Well, you can, but it tastes better if you warm it up.
Oh. Eve sighed. This is complicated. No wonder I never cook.
You make breakfast!
I make two things: bacon and eggs. And sometimes sandwiches. I hate cooking. Cooking reminds me of my mother. Eve took another pot from the rack and banged it down onto the massive stove. Here.
Claire struggled with the top on the spaghetti sauce jar, and finally got it to release with a pop. You think theyre going to stay mad at each other? she asked.
Michael and Shane?
Mmm-hmmm. The sauce plopped into the pot, chunky and wet and vaguely nauseating. Claire considered the second jar, decided that if two of the four of them were boys, more was better. She got it opened and in the pot, as well, then turned on the burner and set it to simmer.
Who knows? Eve shrugged. Boys are idiots. Youd think Shane could just say, Oh man, Im glad youre alive, but no. Its either guilt or amateur night at the Drama Queen Theater. She blew out a frustrated breath. Boys. Id turn gay if they werent so sexy.
Claire tried not to laugh, but she couldnt help it, and after a second Eve smiled and chuckled, too. The water started boiling. In went the pasta.
can I ask?
About what? Eve was still frowning at the pasta like she suspected it was going to do something clever, like try to escape from the pot.
You and Michael.
Oh. A surge of pink to Eves cheeks. Between that and the fact that she was wearing colors outside of the Goth red and black rainbow, she looked young and very cute. Well. I dont know if itsGod, hes just so
Hot? Claire asked.