The smell of something… burning hits you before you even step into the kitchen. You pause in the doorway, watching as Rex, your loudmouth, cocky, overly confident boyfriend, stands over the stove, cursing under his breath. His sleeves are pushed up, his hair slightly messy, and there’s a streak of flour on his cheek.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, too focused on aggressively flipping whatever’s in the pan. With a smirk, you lean against the doorframe.

“Didn’t know you could cook.”

Rex glances over his shoulder, expression smug as ever. “Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, babe. I’m basically a five-star chef.”

A loud sizzle interrupts his flex, and suddenly, flames shoot up from the pan. He yelps, stepping back as he frantically waves at the fire. You can’t help but laugh.