"You need energy for that so let's eat. I could eat." Chase laughed. He was right, we'd need our energy and growling stomachs weren't attractive.
                              
"You can always eat." I added. I guess the tour would start in the kitchen.
                              
"I could say the same for you." Touche. He got me there.
                              
"We should probably make some dinner. I didn't know it was already this late." I suggested. I opened the cupboards to see what food there was. Luckily this house is always fully stocked, unlike mom's house.
                              
"I'm not picky, you choose." Chase said while looking over my shoulder. His breath tickled my neck and it took everything not to lean into him. Focus, Jill. Food. This is about food.
                              
"What about some pasta? There are enough vegetables to make sauce." I could always eat pasta. Those Italians sure know how to make excellent food.
                              
"Sure, I love pasta." Chase said. This is why we worked as a couple.
                              
A few minutes later we were both chopping vegetables. There's something so satisfying about chopping stuff to little pieces. I'd be a great psychopath.
                              
"You know, my parents bonded like this." Chase explained.
                              
"Well, yeah. They own a restaurant. Cooking was probably their passion."
                              
"Then we bonded over ..." Chase stopped his sentence to think about our passion.
                              
"Food?" I finished his sentence.
                              
He chuckled. "I guess you're right."
                              
"Of course I'm right, I'm always ri-" I stopped talking when I felt a stinging sensation. Yep, I chopped, not only a carrot, but a finger. Well, that was exaggerated. I just had a little cut in my finger.
                              
"What's wrong?" Chase asked.
                              
I went up to him with my finger held out. "Wanna see my boo boo?" I said with the voice of a little kid. I fake sniffed.
                              
"Jill, I don't like finger in my sauce." Chase joked after he examined my finger and concluded it wasn't that bad.
                              
"Funny." I deadpanned while keeping my finger underneath the tap.
                              
"Where are the bandaids?" Chase asked and disappeared after I explained where he could find them.
                              
A minute later he appeared with a bandaid in his hand.
                              
"Finger." Chase said.
                              
It didn't really need a bandaid. The cut was very superficial and it didn't hurt or anything but if Chase wanted to put that Disney princesses bandaid on my finger, I'd let him.
                              
Instead of putting the bandaid on he opened the bottle of disinfectant I hadn't noticed he had been holding.
                              
"Now this may hurt a little." He told me as if I were a little child. I rolled my eyes and let him apply the disinfectant.
                              
"Not even a flinch?" Chase asked afterwards.
                              
"It's disinfectant, not acid." I deadpanned. I wouldn't admit that it had stung a little bit.
                              
After that he put the bandaid on with a lot of care. I'd expected him to just slap it on but then had to remind myself that Chase wasn't like my friends. I smiled a little at his focused expression while applying the bandaid.
                              
"There you go." He smiled.
                              
"You still need to kiss the pain away." I said innocently.
                              
Instead of kissing my lips he brought my injured finger to his lips and kissed it softly. Since when does kissing a girly bandaid turn me on? Get a grip, Jill.