Olive could tell he was uncomfortable, mostly because of the short sentences and endless questions. She hated it, hated being uncomfortable and awkward, so she laughed and poked him rather hard in the stomach with her spoon. When in doubt, Olive was abusive.
“You’re white as a sheet, idiot. And there’s no way I can get this done if you’re here asking me every five minutes and distracting me with your dork glasses.”
She went back to work, straining the noodles and putting the pasta back in the pot and pouring the sauce in with it. She felt like a housewife, and it was a really strange feeling. Olive didn't like the idea of being a housewife, and whoever Olive married in the future, if she even got married, better be able to handle that. As she began to mix, she looked over her shoulder at him, nodding her head towards the salad.
“Make yourself useful and finish the salad,” She demanded.
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