Hello, reader! What you’re about to endure is a short piece about two of my characters from my previously published story, Warm! Warm features Novella, the daughter of Walton and Nicole Nook, owners of a diner (The Nook) that Novella grew up in. Strangely enough, Novella has supernatural powers that she inherited from her parents––she has the power of heat in her right hand, while she has the power of coldness in her left. Sporting a prosthetic arm due to an accident at the beach, Monticlaire is a girl that Novella meets one afternoon and they quickly become friends. Being bisexual herself, Monticlaire slowly confides in Novella, and they end up going to prom with one another. In honor of Pride Month (June of 2018), this piece is supposed to be a peek into the lives of Novella and Monticlaire. Let’s see how they’re doing…
I dipped my paintbrush in the green paint, holding it for a few seconds before I applied it back onto the canvas. I wiped it back and forth, putting the finishing touches on the painting. I took a step back, admiring it once more.
“Finally… I think I’ve finished it,” I spoke to myself.
“Finished what? Another painting?” I heard a faint voice in the background. I pulled out my earbuds and looked behind me, spotting Monticlaire. She was dropping things off onto the counter from her venture to the grocery store.
“I didn’t hear you come in, sweetie. But yeah, it’s another one. The music’s keeping me going,” I treaded over to her as she was taking items out of plastic bags.
“What did you get?” I asked, pecking Monticlaire on the cheek before taking my brushes over to the sink. She blushed, cracking an affectionate smile.
“Oh, just some stuff that I want to use to cook for you. Ever tried quiche? My mom made it for me when I was little, and I LOVED it,” she said, quietly reminiscing. I laughed, dropping my wet paintbrushes onto the nearby drying rack.
“Claire, you know that I’m the chef around these parts. I grew up in a diner, for Christ’s sake.”
“I know, Novella, I know,” Monticlaire replied with a kiss on the cheek of her own. “You don’t need to rub it in. I just figured I’d at least try.”
I giggled, rubbing the place where she kissed me. “Well, the effort is what counts in my book. Do you want to see my painting? I’m going to let it dry overnight before I go and drop it off at my parent’s house.” Monticlaire nodded, placing the pie crusts in the freezer. She followed me into the dining room where my masterpiece awaited.
“Oh, wow… it’s The Nook logo,” Monticlaire cooed, reaching up to touch it. I frantically grabbed her prosthetic wrist and pulled it down.
“Hold on, speedy. It’s not dry yet. It has to dry, remember?”
Monticlaire shook her head and held it in her right hand. “Crap, you’re right, I’m sorry. I almost ruined it there,” she nervously smiled.
“Don’t sweat it, love. Who knows, it might be done drying in a few hours. Let’s make this quiche, and if it dries in time, we can take it over together, along with a piece of quiche. Got it?”
“Got it! Let’s get cooking then!” Claire grinned with determination as she sped back into the kitchen. I laughed and ran after her, shedding my painter’s coat and throwing on my apron.
-~-
“You’ve got to put eggs in it, Claire. It’s supposed to be soupy!” I spoke, nabbing some from the refrigerator. I also took out the cheese that we would need to add.
“Are you sure, Novella? It makes it look weird!” Monticlaire whined, stirring the cooked meat and vegetable in the bowl.
“Yes, Claire. Everything looks weird before you cook it, and that’s fact. Take it from a chef’s daughter,” she giggled in response, rolling your ideas.
“You really like to flaunt that around, don’tcha?” she took my left hand in her right, causing me to spin her around. The bottom of her blue jean dress spun like a disc, her eyes meeting mine when she turned back to me. I stuck my tongue out at her and proceeded to crack the eggs open into the bowl.
“And you act like a princess all of the time,” I teased.
“That’s only because you treat me like one,” she snickered back.
“Stopppp…” I murmured, starting to blush. I tossed the eggshells into the sink and took up one of our long white spoons, churning the mixture around and around inside the bowl. Monticlaire watched comfortably from behind me, scanning over a piece of paper with instructions on them.
“And now… we take the pie crusts and pour the ingredients inside…” Monticlaire muttered. I did so with ease, not spilling a drop. I topped them off with sprinkles of cheese and opened the oven, placing the pies inside before slowly closing the oven back up.
“We’re done! Now they cook for forty minutes,” I spoke, dusting my hands. I yawned, stretching awkwardly in front of Monticlaire. She went over to the sink and started to wash the dishes that we used. I turned around and hugged her from behind.
“I’ll be in my room, princess,” I mocked, squeezing her a bit tighter before walking away.
-~-
I slowly pulled up into the driveway of my old home, shutting the car off and hopping out. Monticlaire did the same, being careful not to drop the pallet of food that she was supposed to be carrying. Sliding the canvas out of the backseat (and thanking god that it didn’t snag on the seatbelts), I brought it to the front door. I looked over to Claire, who was promptly pulling up beside me.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she muttered. I looked into her pale green eyes, giving her my classic grin of reassurance.
“We’re going to be fine,” I said, kissing her tightly on the lips. At the same time, I rang the doorbell to the house.
I hope you enjoyed! Happy Pride Month!
Comments (0)
See all