I had 75% of this written out, but I hated the idea because it was depressing, so I changed it to this :) so I hope y'all enjoy <3
Smith
For the rest of Saturday, Diego and I decide to do absolutely nothing but enjoy each other's company.
We watch a movie, eat some random snacks in the pantry, kiss and touch some, and become completely engrossed in each other. Random topics fly around between movies or meals, carrying on throughout the evening. I forgot about the ice cream I had eaten earlier, being too consumed with Diego to care about what I'm ingesting.
Diego suggests we make cookies, which I'm hesitant with. I already ate ice cream today, which means I don't need anymore sweets. If I eat too much sugar, I'm going to get fatter and gain back all the weight I've lost. I don't want that to happen. I can't have that happen.
"We can add extra chocolate chips," Diego beams while opening the cabinets. I smile at the happiness on the boy's face. I nod in agreement at the idea, pushing away the negativity circling my mind. "Do you like them chocolatey?"
Of course I do, but I'll probably cry or throw up if I eat cookies. How much chips did I have earlier? Jeez, I should've kept count. And didn't I have two packs of fruit snacks? Yeah, I definitely don't need extra chocolate chips. I don't need any at all. "Yeah."
Diego's face falls at my lack of enthusiasm. "We don't have to make any if you don't want to."
My heart aches. I know I can't handle cookies, even if Diego seems happier than a kid in a candy store to have some. What is wrong with me? Why am I already dreading eating cookies that haven't even been made?
"I want to." I didn't know if I was trying to convince myself or Diego. I try luring my mind away from food and guilt, but can't. Why was I able to eat snacks earlier, but can't now? "We can add all the chocolate chips you want."
Diego smiles and gives me a quick but sweet kiss before taking out more ingredients. Seeing flour, sugars, and chocolate chips scares me. It scares the living shit out of me. I want nothing more than to make up a million excuses not to eat cookies, but I don't want to deprive Diego.
I rather cry and sob over some cookies than jeopardize Diego's happiness for a single second.
I do my best to help Diego make the dough. I'd do simple things like melting butter or cracking eggs. The dark haired boy smiles at my participation, sneaking in neck kisses and gentle arm squeezes in encouragement. His glee makes me somewhat excited to try the cookies since I adore seeing him happy.
As I'm pouring the last bit of flour from the bag, my wrist moves too fast. The white powder spills out, covering my shirt and the floor. A gasp leaves me at the suddenness before I frown. Why did I make such a mess and waste the ingredients? This is why I shouldn't cook. Everytime I try at home, I just messs everything up and piss of my parents. I can't do anything right and it's obvious.
"I'm so sorry."
I move around to search for a broom, but create an even bigger mess. Diego turns his head and burst into laughter. Hearing that he finds this humorous makes me feel a million times better. I can't help but smile at his breathtaking laugh. "It's okay."
Diego instructs me to stay in place as he sweeps up the flour. My shirt and pants remain covered, and I'm unsure what to do about it. Should I change? Will it come off if I shake my clothes out? Why does flour feel so weird on my skin?
