Free Away by B. A. Wolfe

we were in the same state, it felt like completely different countries.
    “I was double majoring, and I had a minor. Not only was I too busy to cook, but I was lucky if I remembered what day it was.”
    He looked back up, his eyes tainted with sadness. I didn’t like seeing him upset and I wondered if this was how he felt when he looked at me yesterday. “What’s wrong over there?” I asked him.
    He shook his head and stabbed another pancake with his fork. “Nothing, I’m just enjoying listening to you talk,” he said before eating the pancake.
    “What are your majors?” he asked. “You’re making me feel a little intimidated over here, by the way.”
    “Don’t. My life is far from intimidating,” I told him honestly. “My majors are Finance and Business Management,” I tried to answer him with more information, but it was all I could do to spit those words out. They tasted horrible in my mouth, especially considering it was not an ‘is’ but a ‘was’. “Can we change the subject?” I pleaded.
    His lips curled up. I could tell he knew that discussing school was making me uncomfortable. It was beginning to feel like a conversation I would have with kids at school, both out of politeness and because there was nothing else to talk about with them.
    “So where did you learn to cook like a five star restaurant?” I asked, changing the subject since he wouldn’t. He continued to smile, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I could have sworn his cheeks were turning a shade of red. It didn’t take much to make this guy blush.
    “My mom taught me,” he answered.
    “Well, kudos to your mom, she must be a great teacher,” I said, jealous that my mom never taught me to cook. I stopped the hateful thoughts against her before I let the bitterness run through me again.
    “My mom used to make me breakfast a lot when I was younger, it’s sort of my comfort food,” he said after taking a sip of his orange juice. “Then she taught me how to cook it. To be honest, I think she just got sick of me begging her to do it all the time.”
    “Well maybe you could come to Boulder and teach me how to cook sometime,” I said, shocking us both. I could immediately feel my cheeks getting hotter as I sat and thought about what I just invited him to do. The widening look in his eyes made me even more embarrassed; I guess it didn’t take much to make me blush either.
    “I’m sorry Jase.” I laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean to say that, or maybe I did, but I guess… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I honestly don’t know why I even just said that.” I stopped myself and put my hands over my face. The words were just not coming out right. I was making it worse. I heard a husky chuckle come out of him as I slowly peeled my hands from my face.
    “I’d actually really like that,” he said, smiling. I wasn’t sure if it was a pity response or if he was really being honest, but either way, I was glad he didn’t make an embarrassing situation even worse. I gave him a grateful look and finished my breakfast, both of us remaining silent until we were done.
    I got up from the table when I finished and Jason immediately started getting up.
    “No, you sit. I’m doing dishes,” I announced.
    He started shaking his head quickly, still trying to get up. I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder.
    “No means no. Now, sit and finish your coffee. You cooked breakfast; it’s the least I can do,” I said, grabbing his plate from in front of him when his hand grabbed onto it too.
    “Cassandra, put it down,” he demanded. I hadn’t seen him so demanding before, and a slight thrill ran through me. I couldn’t let him do that to me though. I could be just as demanding.
    “NO!” I said frustrated.
    We both maintained our grip on his plate and were now competing in a stare down.
    “If you don’t let go of the plate, then I will when you aren’t expecting it, and it will go