CHAPTER EIGHT
'GUILT TRIPPING'

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'ROGER? ROGER, YOU THERE? DO ME A FAVOUR AND COME GIVE ME A HAND, WILL YOU?' my voice echoed throughout the house as I stepped in the front door, almost tripping over as the carrier bags full of groceries in my arms weighed me down and nearly made me lose my balance in the process.

About a week had gone by since Roger and I had become 'roommates' and so far things were going alright - that's the best I could say about it, really. We'd miraculously managed to go the whole seven days without having any major fall outs, a new record for us, I'm sure. Although that was probably because we agreed to stay clear of each other when one of us was in a shit mood. Even if that meant things being awkward between us for the rest of the night.

Anyway, kicking the door shut behind me, I walked along the hallway as the eerie silence of a seemingly empty house began to settle in, making me uneasy as I listened for any sound other than my own footsteps. Peeking into the living room as I walked past it, I noticed Roger's wallet and car keys on the coffee table, meaning that he was around here somewhere but where exactly was a different question.

With the weight of the carrier bags starting to tire out my arms, I trundled on through to the kitchen where I dumped them on top of the counter, careful not to break anything inside.

Grimacing at my aching shoulders and the fact that Roger had failed to answer my pleas for help, I didn't hesitate to call his name again, this time even more forcefully, 'Roger!'

As soon as I said his name, a small voice replied to me from the other side of the door which lead out from the kitchen into the back garden.

'I'm right here.'

Noticing that it was slightly ajar, I walked over and opened it fully to see the blonde sitting outside on the door step with a cigarette between his fingers and his leather jacket pulled tightly around him.

'Oh, there you are,' I said, as Roger turned his head to look at me, 'You know, you could have shouted back and told me you were out here, right?'

He shrugged, 'I thought you'd work it out by yourself considering the door was open. I gather you're obviously not very good at hide and seek?'

'Yeah, that's exactly why,' I rolled my eyes, as he just chuckled lightly in response to my sarcasm. The cold air from outside began to creep into the kitchen as I shivered at the sudden change in temperature, 'What are you doing out here, anyway? You'll catch your death sitting there.'

'I'm conforming to the rules,' he replied, taking a drag from his cigarette. He noticed my confused expression as he elaborated on what he meant, 'You banned me from smoking inside, remember? Cold-heartedly banished me from the house to the harsh outdoors? I'm just doing as I was told, love...'

Despite trying hard to ignore Roger's guilt tripping, I couldn't help but feel a little bit bad for kicking him outside whenever he needed a smoke - especially when it was as cold as it was out here. Brian's words from last week, 'You gotta let Rog have some freedom' and more irritatingly, 'You sound like your mother' replayed through my mind and made me seriously rethink my priorities. I didn't want to be like my mother or father; controlling and overruling. I know what their way of thinking did to my relationship with them, and I didn't want a repeat of that. This was just as much Roger's house as it was mine now, which meant I had to start treating him like so.

Sighing defeatedly, I reluctantly stepped to the side and told him plainly, although avoiding his gaze, 'Come inside.'

He furrowed his eyebrows, 'What?'

'You heard me - come inside before you freeze.' I repeated impatiently, crossing my arms in front of my chest, 'Unless you want to of course, then by all means, stay out here.'

A cheeky smile appeared on Roger's face as he got up off the step and walked through the doorway, his cigarette still sitting between his lips.

'Does this mean that my ban has been lifted?' he asked, watching my facial expressions almost too intently.

I stared back at him, biting the inside of my cheek as I forced the words out, 'Just...have the window open when you light up, alright?'

Nodding and smiling triumphantly, Roger finished his cigarette whilst I shook my head and I returned my attention back to unpacking the carrier bags. I'll admit, I was rather annoyed at myself for caving in so soon, but the pettiness really wasn't necessary. We'd definitely get on a whole lot better without it. Still, it didn't mean I wouldn't stop keeping a close eye on him, though.

'I have something you could do for me, if you're up for it?' I told the drummer.

He walked towards me, 'Sure, what is it?'

Instead of simply telling him, I placed a bag of pasta, a jar of sauce, a chicken breast, some herbs, and a few other ingredients on the counter top and watched as horror slowly appeared on the drummer's face.

'You, Mr. Taylor - are going to be making dinner tonight.' I informed him.

'Um, I've changed my mind, I'm not up for helping anymore.'

'Um, yes, you are,' I said sternly, 'I told you that you were cooking this week, it's not like you didn't know. And besides, it's just chicken pasta. How hard could that be?'

He looked at the ingredients and then at me with an eyebrow raised, 'I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?'

'Nope.' I replied smugly.

Roger remained silent for a moment, until he let out a sigh, 'Fine. I'll give it a shot. But if we both end up with food poisoning, don't say I didn't warn you.'

'I'm willing to take that risk.' I told him, as the drummer smiled at me in return.

It became clear to me that Roger was not a natural cook pretty soon into the making of dinner. One minute he'd insist that he didn't need any help, so I'd disappear through to the living room and leave him to it. Then the next he'd be calling my name and asking fifty thousand questions about whether or not it looked okay. Eventually I gave up on trying to watch the telly and stayed in the kitchen, supervising Roger and overlooking what he was doing until it the food was finally ready.

'Would you say this is done?' he suddenly piped up, stirring the wooden spoon around in the pot on the stove whilst looking at it in confusion.

'Let me see,' I made my way over to the blonde and stood beside him (too closely for my liking), and peered into the pot to confirm that it was done, 'Yeah, it's ready. Shall we plate it up?'

He just nodded at me before I went ahead and took the plates out of the oven where they'd been heating up and began dishing out the food between us. We sat down at the table and tuck in, eating in silence for a little while, until Roger asked me worriedly.

'So, what's the verdict? You haven't spat it out yet, so I'm guessing that's a good sign.'

I chuckled lightly, 'It's fine, Roger. Nothing wrong with it at all; it's very tasty. I told you it wasn't rocket science.'

'Hmm. I still don't think you'll see me making a Michelin quality meal anytime soon.'

I shrugged, 'You never know. At the end of the day to be good at anything, it takes practice, doesn't it? If you're supposedly so bad at cooking, what on earth did you live on when you were living alone, then? You must have been able to make something.'

'I mainly got by on stuff like beans on toast,' he told me, laughing, 'Or sometimes I just didn't bother having dinner at all.'

Staring at him in disbelief, I scolded him, 'That's so bad for you, Roger. You can't have nothing; no wonder you're as skinny as you are. Well, no matter. You won't be getting away with that here, so don't even try it.'

'Yes, Mother, of course, Mother, whatever you say, Mother.' he joked, giving me a playful wink.

Returning me attention to my plate, I warned him, 'Keep pushing your luck and I'll reimpose the smoking ban.'

'Understood,' Roger quickly replied, myself unable to hold back a smile, before the two of us became quiet again and went back to finishing the rest of our dinner.

-

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