Elijah's pov ;
A soft chuckle escaped my lips. "Of course," I responded, amusement lacing my voice. "Why? Do you think I survive on take-out food? I used to cook back in college. It's expensive to live alone, you know."
"Wow," he amused, clearly impressed. His eyes widened as he took in the way I was working and moving around in the kitchen. "I had no idea. What are you going to make?"
"Omelette," I replied, effortlessly cracking eggs into a bowl. "It's easy and quick. Is there anything else you'd like?"
"Anything is fine," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not picky."
"Okay, then omelette it is," I smiled widely, reaching for the ingredients.
As I began chopping vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filled the silence between us.
"Let me help," he suddenly offered, surprising me.
I looked up at him in shock and he mirrored my expression. "What? Is there something on my face?"
