(12) messy

                                    

                                          
"What is this?"

                          
"Keefe! Did you even wash your hands?"
                          
He glanced up, arms already elbow-deep in a bag of flour. "What?"
                          
Sophie sighed. "First rule of baking: wash your hands." She tried to wave him away as she tied an oversized apron—one of Edaline's—around her waist.
                          
"Relax, Foster, I already did. I'm not that gross."
                          
"Good. I don't think any of our friends want to be eating Keefe-contaminated cookies."
                          
He wrinkled his nose. "Is that an insult?"
                          
Sophie ducked her head to hide her smile. "Pass me those eggs, will you?"
                          
Keefe handed her the eggs and brushed the flour off his arms. "Ooh, chocolate!" He reached a hand across the counter.
                          
Sophie smacked his hand away. "Those chocolate chips are added later, Keefe."
                          
With a pout, he withdrew and rested his elbows on the table instead. "How long is this going to take?"
                          
"If you cooperate, it will be a lot shorter." Sophie measured off another cup of flour and unloaded it into the bowl. "Can you hand me a—what are you doing."
                          
Keefe had suddenly nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. "Mmmf."
                          
"Keeeefe." Sophie tried to reach the spoon from where she stood, but it was near impossible with the heavy weight of her boyfriend draped over her. "Do you want cookies or not?" she growled, struggling to break free.
                          
"I'm tired. Can we go up to your room and sleep?"
                          
"What? No!" Sophie felt her face turn red. She spotted the bag of flour in the corner of her eye, and on an impulse she grabbed it and threw a handful of flour over her shoulder—into his face.
                          
He jumped back, spluttering and wiping flour out of his eyes. "Man, what the hell?"
                          
Sophie smirked and resumed her task of organizing and measuring the ingredients. "That's what you get for not listening."
                          
Crack.
                          
She went still at the feeling of something cold... and slimy...dripping onto her head. "Keefe," she whispered. "Is that an egg?"
                          
He crunched the eggshells in his hand before wiping his hands on his shirt. "I don't know," he answered as he licked his fingers calmly. 
                          
Sophie batted his hand away, nose wrinkling in disgust. "Hey, you're going to get salmonella." She ignored the raw egg dripping down one side of her face.
                          
Keefe blinked. "Sal who?" was all he managed to say before Sophie threw another handful of flour into his face.
                          
"Sophieee," he whined, spitting puffs of flour from his mouth.  "Not fair."
                          
"Oh, so it's fair to crack an egg on my head?" she demanded, gesturing to the side of her hair that had gone crusty with egg white. 
                          
"All's fair in love and war, Foster," Keefe replied, slinking closer and kissing her. 
                          
Sophie bit back a giddy smile and kissed him back, uncaring of the powder that rained over her face as his eyes fluttered shut. She reached up and stroked away the gritty flour on his face with her thumbs—geez, he was caked in it. Keefe hummed happily, and Sophie ran her hands through his hair—
                          
"Aaagh, no, not the hair, please—!" he pushed her away and reached up to grab his hair. 
                          
Sophie rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You just got flour all over yourself. I'm sure a little raw egg wouldn't hurt."
                          
"Foster, you don't get it, I spent all morning trying to get it just the right kind of messy! I used almost all my hair gel for it, too—"
                          
Splish. Sophie tipped the milk carton upside-down. Over Keefe's head.
                          
He stared at her in disbelief through his milk-drenched bangs, now plastered to his forehead. Before he could say anything, she pressed up against him and pecked him on the lips.
                          
"Now will you finish kissing me?" she grumbled, her face heating up. Keefe smirked.
                          
"I take it this means that baking will take a lot longer that expected," he said, and leaned towards her again.