The kitchen smelled like vanilla and sugar, the air warm from the oven as you stood at the counter, measuring out ingredients. Rafe, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watched you with a lazy smirk.

“You’re really taking this seriously,” he teased, reaching for the flour.

You smacked his hand away before he could make a mess. “Because I actually want the cake to be edible.”

He scoffed. “You don’t trust me?”

You shot him a look. “Rafe, last time you tried to cook, you set off the fire alarm.”

“That was one time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You put a metal spoon in the microwave.”

“…Okay, but that’s confusing. Why can’t metal go in there?”

You sighed, shaking your head with a fond smile. “Just follow my lead, Cameron.”

You guided him through the steps, making him pour the flour while you added the sugar. He was actually doing well—until he got distracted by you.

His arms wrapped around your waist from behind as you cracked an egg into the bowl, his chin resting on your shoulder. “You look cute like this,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed. “You’re supposed to be helping.”

“I am. Moral support.”

You nudged him away playfully. “Go mix the batter.”

He obeyed, but of course, not without causing some chaos. You turned your back for two seconds before hearing a loud puff of flour. Spinning around, you found Rafe covered in a cloud of white powder, looking both guilty and amused.

“Rafe!” you gasped, laughing.

“I don’t know how that happened,” he grinned, wiping his face. “Maybe the flour just… attacked me.”

You shook your head, grabbing a towel. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” he said smugly, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

With a laugh, you shoved the mixing bowl into his hands. “Just stir, Cameron. Before you destroy the kitchen.”

He chuckled, but as he started mixing—albeit, a little messily—you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he was a disaster in the kitchen, but at least he was your disaster.