Who: Evan and Natalie What: its a secret! When: Thursday night Where: Evan's apartment Rated: TBD
This was perfect. Perfect! Evan couldn't have asked for better circumstances. Natalie's power, or whatever you want to call it, was on the fritz. She couldn't hear what people were thinking, and more importantly, she couldn't have any kind of indication of what someone wanted to say to her. Specifically Evan. Perfect!
But- Evan had never really been faced with this opportunity. Of course, he'd dated other girls, but none of them had ever had powers, and none of them were anything that he'd wanted to spend any considerable amounts of time with. Sure, he liked Mal and Tyler and all his other ex-girlfriends, but he'd had his own issues with each and every one of them. For some reason, Natalie was slowly securing her place as the girl that Evan sort of maybe wanted to spend, if not the rest of his life with, then, at least a few more years.
And he wanted to tell her. So he was cooking chicken--or rather burning chicken as it had now sat on the stove several minutes longer than it was supposed to. "Fuck!" He glanced back at his girlfriend on the couch, whom he was preparing dinner for in hopes of being romantic. "I mean... you know. Perfect!" Sweat beaded off his forehead as he scraped the char-coaled remains of the skin that he'd hoped to crisp a golden brown, from the bottom of the frying pan. "Dinner's ready."