"Hey Karen, where do you want these flowers?" you shout across the room to your aunt as you sort out groceries in the kitchen.

"There are vases in the cupboard above the sink," you hear her yell back. You climb up onto the counter and pull a vase out of the cupboard.

You've been staying at your aunt's house in California for the summer. You were offered an awesome internship doing research at the California Science Center in downtown Los Angeles and your Aunt Karen offered up her guest house so you didn't have to spend the money on rent. The commute isn't too bad and she has more than enough room anyway. So you get to spend your last real summer before your senior year of college in your own guest house halfway between the beach and the city.

The sound of the doorbell knocks you out of your daydream as you sit on the kitchen counter with the vase between your legs, arranging the flowers. Karen has friends and coworkers coming in and out of the house all of the time. She's been a producer for as long as you can remember and always stays busy.

You realize you've zoned out again while messing with the flowers and you finally tune into the voices coming closer to the kitchen. You look up to see your aunt coming through the archway to the kitchen with a man right behind her.

"Y/N, this is Matthew. Matthew, this is my niece, Y/N," Karen introduces you to the stranger.

"Hey," you greet with a nod as you move the vase to the side, feet still dangling off the counter.

"Hey," he echoes as you notice a backpack and a duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Matthew has to do a bit of extra recording for the movie so he'll be staying with us for the next week or so," Karen explains before you get the chance to ask. The phone interrupts the introductions and she goes to answer it. "I have to take this. Can you show Matthew to a guest room? Doesn't matter which one," she trails off.

"Gotcha," you confirm, sliding off the counter and landing on your bare feet. You head down the main hallway of the house to one of your favorite rooms, Matthew following behind you. "Here you are," you say as you stand in the middle of the room, turning to face Matthew who's standing awkwardly in the doorway. "I would show you the other room, but you'd probably just pick this one anyway. It gets the best light," you explain as you part the big curtains that hang in front of two glass doors that lead right out to the pool. "I'm sure Karen would've given you the guest house, but that baby is all mine for the summer so you're stuck in here."

"I'm just happy to not be stuck in a hotel room for once," Matthew finally speaks up. He sets his bags down on the other side of the bed and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"What project are you working on?" you ask. "I can never keep track of what Karen's doing."

"I'm doing some voice stuff for an animated thing," he answers.

"Oh, you're one of those squirrel guys!" you cut him off before he can explain further.

"Actually, they're chipmunks," he laughs.

"Practically the same thing," you wave him off. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Bathroom's across the hall and just holler if you need anything, we'll be around."

"Thanks, Y/N," he says.

"Anytime, Matthew," you say over your shoulder as you head out of the room.

*****

Even though you do have the whole guest house to yourself, you spend most of your time in the main house, especially on the weekends when you're not working. You've never liked cooking for one anyway, so you always cook for Karen when you have the time. Since it's Matthew's first night at the house, you decided to put a bit more effort into the pasta you were planning by making the noodles from scratch.

You've cleaned off the kitchen island and measured out your flour, cracking a few eggs into a welt in the middle. You use a fork to beat the eggs and slowly combine the flour until it gets too thick and you have to go in with your hands. The best part. You start to go at it with your hands, kneading the firm dough into the counter.

"Shit," you mumble under your breath. You forgot to put music on before you got into things and your hands are covered in flour now. You're staring at your powdery hands in dismay when your savior walks through the archway. "Oh thank god, my hero," you breathe out.

"Me?" Matthew asks pointing to himself, looking around the room half confused, half amused.

"Yeah you, squirrel boy. Do me a solid and put on some music. My phone's on the table or you can hook yours up if you wanna hang out," you give him a few options.

"Uh, yeah I could hang out," he responds, connecting his phone to the stereo. "Any preference?" he asks, climbing onto a barstool on the other side of the island.

"Whatever your heart desires. And don't worry, I will absolutely judge you," you joke, slamming the dough ball onto the counter.

"See, now that's a lot of pressure," he laughs.

"That's the point!"

"Is this a test?"

"Yup, and if you don't pass, I'll have no choice but to kick you out."

"Do you even have that kind of authority?"

"Do you want to find out?"

"No ma'am."

"Good, then pick up the pace, buddy. The pasta won't come out right if it wasn't made with good tunes." Matthew finally picks out some classic rock and you nod your head in approval, slamming your dough ball down a few more times.

"So what's with the pasta?" he asks, fiddling with his hands on the counter.

"Well, it's your first night so I thought I'd add a little spice to dinner tonight," you explain, focusing on your kneading.

"Oh, you really didn't have to do that."

"Eh, don't flatter yourself too much, I was bored anyway."

"So you're just here for the summer?" he asks, obviously trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, I got this sweet internship downtown and, lucky for me, I also have a sweet Aunt Karen, so here I am!"

"Sounds like a good deal. So you're still in school then?"

"Yes, sir. I have one more year to go."

"Where at?"

"This small state school in Syracuse, New York. I study conservation biology."

"Oh, no way. I went to film school in the city. I graduated a few years back."

"Different vibe from upstate, but you do you. Acting degree?"

"Directing, actually."

"Ah, the big guy in charge. Do me a favor, boss man, and tear of some of that plastic wrap," you instruct, using your elbow to point at the box of plastic wrap on the other end of the island. Matthew follows your instructions, laying a sheet of the plastic out on the counter. You wrap your dough ball up in the plastic and throw it in the fridge.

"What now?" he asks as you wash your hands.

"Well, the dough has to rest before I can roll it out." You check your watch. "It's four, so dinner at six-ish probably. Got a hot date?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"How dare you! You sit here and watch me slave over your dinner and you don't even have the common decency to call me hot. Don't make me reconsider kicking you out."

"Forgive me, Y/N. What can I do to help?" Matthew asks, leaning against the counter across from you.

"Well, nothing right now, but how are you with garlic bread?"

"I'm good with instructions."

"And that's what I'm here for. Come back in an hour or so and I'll get you started."

"Sounds like a plan."

*****

Matthew is back in the kitchen at five on the dot as you're pulling the pasta out of the fridge. You give him a step-by-step for the garlic bread as you start on your noodles, the two of you working harmoniously in the kitchen. You chat aimlessly about your family recipes and your favorite things to cook.

"You're good company, Matthew," you say as you place a big bowl of your pasta masterpiece on the dining table. Matthew follows you with his garlic bread and a salad you threw together.

"I'd say the same thing about you, Y/N," he says.

"Oh stop, you're too sweet," you say, giving him a little smack to the chest. "Grab a seat and I'll go track down Karen."

Karen joins you and Matthew for dinner and the two of them chat about the movie and the work he needs to get done. You listen in while you scarf down pasta and bread. You've always found the industry fascinating, just not your speed. Before you know it, you are all done eating and you get up to clear the table.

"Quit it, Y/N. You guys cooked, so I can clean," Karen stops you.

"You sure?" you double check.

"Yeah, totally. Leave it to me, kids," she confirms.

"I won't argue with that. Drink, Matthew?" you ask the boy you left at the table as you head towards the stocked bar cart in the living room.

"Uh, yeah, I could take a drink. You sure you don't want any help, Karen?" he makes sure.

"Go," Karen says, waving him off. She knows exactly what she's doing.

By the time Matthew turns to catch up with you, you've already made your way out to the back patio with a bottle and two glasses in your hands. He follows you out the back door and finds a seat on the couch by the fire pit you are attempting to get started.

"This fucking thing," you mumble when it won't start with the switch like it should.

"Can I give you hand?" Matthew offers, probably for the hundredth time that night.

"Nah I got this, it just needs a light." You dig into your front pocket, digging out a zippo. You flip the top up and flick the thing on, creating a little flame. You hold it close to the pit, turning the switch back on and the whole thing lights up quickly. "There we go."

"That's a pretty cool lighter you got there," Matthew says. You didn't realize he had been watching you so closely.

"Oh, thanks. My roommate got it for me last Christmas," you say shoving it back into your pocket. You take a seat on the other end of the outdoor couch, crossing your legs under you. You reach over to the side table next to you and pour Matthew and yourself a drink. "Here you are sir," you say, passing him a glass.

"A whiskey girl?" he checks, holding it under his nose and taking a whiff.

"Sometimes, yeah," you answer taking a slug out of your own glass. "You?"

"Yeah, I can be a whiskey girl," he says after a sip making you giggle. The back and forth flows easily between the two of you like it has all day. You have always found it easy to get along with new people, but there's a weird comfort level between you and Matthew. You sink into the couch as Matthew tells you some story about a distillery he went to with some buddies back in college. You find yourself balancing your glass on your chest as you lay across the couch, your head against the arm of the couch and your toes tucked under Matthews legs.

"So do you like California or do you miss New York?" Matthew asks.

"Both. I love the beach and the weather, but there's some things about upstate that you just can't get here," you explain.

"Such as?"

"The open space, the pine trees. You can't really see the stars here either. Too much light pollution."

"California has those things too, you know. You just have to get out of the city a bit."

"Yeah, but Los Angeles is huge and there's so much to see and I only have so many days off this summer. I can get pine trees and open space as much as I want when I go back to school in the fall." Matthew gets up as your speaking and grabs the bottle from the table. He tops off your drinks and takes his seat again, this time lifting up your feet and setting them on his lap, resting his hands over your ankles. "Any plans other than work while you're here?" you ask.

"Nothing in particular," he answers.

"I'm sure we can find something to keep you entertained."

"You've done an excellent job so far."

"This is just the tip of the iceberg, buddy. Just you wait."