"Get out of here," Talbot said in a teasing tone. "I'm used to working my magic alone." He flashed Blair a disarming smile.

"Okay. I'll leave you alone. Call me if you need me," Blair offered.

"Sure."

After leaving the kitchen, Blair returned to her bedroom and began to clean. She straightened the furniture, dusted around the trim, and smoothed out the covers on her bed.

By the time she was done, Wesley still hadn't arrived. She sat on the sofa, watching TV to kill time. After a while, the doorbell rang.

She sprang up from the sofa and made her way to the door. Wesley had just had a shower and looked quite fresh. Blair pouted and complained, "I thought you were going to cook for me."

Casting a casual glance at Talbot, who was busy cooking in the kitchen, Wesley said indifferently, "You get fed either way. What's the difference?"

'I want to taste your cooking. That's the difference, ' Blair thought to herself.

Noticing a dash of disappointment flashing through her eyes, Wesley explained, "I'm so bad I can burn water. Talbot's a top-flight cook. He won first place in a competition last year." What he said was true. Although he knew how to cook, the food he cooked could only be described as edible, far from delicious.

Blair was still recovering from a fever. Talbot had learned how to cook ideal meals for patients and people getting over illnesses. He had done it for his father more than a few times.

That was why Wesley had asked him to cook for Blair.

"Got it," Blair nodded, but her expression showed that she was not convinced. 'He didn't want to cook for me, and even found a lame excuse.'

Wesley could tell that she didn't buy his explanation, but decided not to push the issue. He went to the kitchen to see if he could help Talbot, but the cook drove him out too.

Seeing that Blair was watching TV, Wesley came over and sat next to her, pulling out his phone to play a game.

historical

Within two minutes, his phone started ringing. Blair couldn't help but turn her head to look at him, wondering, 'It's late. I wonder who that is. A coworker or a friend?'

Wes

May I friend you?" They had known each other for a while, but she didn't have his number.

Wesley didn't turn her down this time. He fished out his cell phone and tossed it to her. "Knock yourself out."

Blair picked his phone up. It was old, the OS was at least two years out of date. She swiped the screen, and it asked her for a PIN. "Password?"

"1104."

"Sounds like a birthday," she said casually.

"Yeah. Megan's." He didn't feel the need to hide it from her. Megan had changed his password.

Blair froze for a moment. 'Megan again! She has him on a short leash.'

Suddenly, she lost the desire to friend him.

She threw his phone back to him. "Forget it," she spat.

Wesley caught his phone. 'What's her problem?' he thought.

Under his confused look, Blair said in a sad voice, "I quit. You don't care for me. I know you feel it's your responsibility to help me. I'm sorry I came on to you."

She sounded like a girl who had been hurt by her boyfriend.

Wesley figured out what she was doing. He looked at his phone and asked, "You playing cat and mouse? Hoping I'll feel sorry for you?"

'Seriously? Why does he know everything? Oh God! How embarrassing!'

Blair forced a smile and stammered, "You...you're imagining things."

Wesley sneered. He raised his phone and asked, "Sure you don't want to friend me?"

Being a proud girl, Blair answered firmly, "No, I don't."