( Все хотела у тебя спросить, что у тебя за ролик в подписи ? )

Bella tossed a spatula into the sink, turned off the stove, and split a giant pile of pancakes between two plates -- two on one, about ten on the other. "I didn't actually intend to cook this many," she said, opening the refrigerator door, "but I tipped in too much baking powder by accident, so I had to make a double batch." She pulled out a jar of maple syrup and poured it over each stack. "I figured you'd probably eat the extras, though. But I didn't fry the bacon. We can just have that for--" She turned around, plates in hand, and cut off abruptly when she saw my face. A line appeared between her eyebrows. "Jake?"

"Yeah?" I said.

"You... don't like pancakes?" she said uncertainly.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "No, I do," I assured her. "They're my favorite, actually."

Bella's expression smoothed into a relieved smile. "Oh, good, because there's no way I could eat them all. I'd have to toss them outside for the squirrels or something."

"Lucky squirrels," I said, finally getting out of bed, getting my feet under me literally if not figuratively. Bella set the pancakes on the counter, and it was too much like what this all was, so close to what I wanted but all wrong, and, as usual, she had no idea what she was doing to me. How could she? She didn't even know I liked pancakes.

"Okay, seriously, Jacob," Bella said, studying me as I sat down on a bar stool, "you look like you're going to be sick. You don't have to eat them. I'd rather make something else than have you throw up all over the place. I haven't figured out where the mop is yet."

"I'm fine," I said. "And the mop is in the closet with the board games."

"Well, that's good to know." She held out the jar of maple syrup. "Do you want more?"

Something hurt so much in my chest that I... "Thanks," I said quietly. I couldn't look at her, so I took the syrup and turned it over in my hand, reading the ingredients list on the label. Corn syrup, maple flavoring, sugar. I knew my shoulders were shaking.

After a moment, I felt cool fingers threading through my hair, fingernails scraping lightly against my scalp, over and over and over. I closed my eyes and leaned against her shoulder. "Hey." Bella's voice was soft. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She kept stroking my head, until after what felt like an eternity, I felt myself start to relax... and promptly realized I was a total idiot. I'd fallen apart over a breakfast item. "I'm hungry," I said finally.

"Me too," she said. The fingers were gone from my hair, and then she was sitting next to me at the counter, trying to read my face. I still couldn't look at her. But I could take a bite of pancakes, at least.

They were great.

Bella shook her head as I mowed my way through my stack. "Jake, you're going to choke."

"M'not," I said, mouth full.

"Okay," she said doubtfully, "but just so you know, I don't know the Heimlich." She took her own bite, still watching me. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep." I didn't even sound convincing to myself.

An awkward silence fell (с)

*заводит любимую шарманку*
"Постой-постой, куда ты мужчина, оставь хотя бы свое ламборджино...
Мужшшшина... Оставь свой машина!"

Скажу тебе по секрету, если хочешь про мальчишку почитать, иди Тентен почитай, там у нее таааакой подрсток получился, что даже я сделала бы ему отдолжение, хотя, мне, как ты сама понимаешь, молоденькие неопытные мальчики не интересны, по определению.

Один поэт
Свой путь осмыслить силясь
Хоть он и не был Пушкину с родни
Вскричал : ''Куда, куда вы удалились,
Моей весны, златые дни!''
Златые дни ответствовали так:
''Мы не могли не удалиться
Коль тут у вас такой бардак
И черт знает что, творится.''