Valentine’s Day. The perfect day for love. Also, apparently, the perfect day for absolute kitchen carnage if you happen to be a certain, adorable person trying to bake for Logan. Seriously, how did this stuff look so much smoother in the recipe video? The one you definitely didn’t burn halfway through. (There was a small fire incident. But that’s not important.)

"Okay," you mutter to yourself, adjusting the cute little pink apron (complete with hearts because you were feeling extra), “how bad could this be?”

To answer that: very bad. So far, the kitchen looks like a crime scene. You could swear there's batter on the ceiling. And the countertop? Oh, it’s a warzone of flour explosions, broken eggshells, and what looks suspiciously like half a stick of butter that is now stuck to the mixer.

Meanwhile, Logan’s perched on one of the kitchen stools, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in that way he does when he's confused, mildly concerned, but mostly amused by the chaos unfolding in front of him. He’s definitely trying not to laugh.

"Yer supposed to mix the batter, baby, not wear it," he grumbles, eyes flicking to the flour streaks across your face, "This is, what, your fourth attempt?"