I Unintentionally Became Her Kitten

Chapter 57: Brownies

Alisha got up before me the next morning. I started to get up with her but she reminded me I could sleep in and I gratefully laid back down as she went about her morning routine.

It felt good. My body was lighter, but in a metaphorical way and my thoughts had cleared out a bit through the night. Alisha was similarly less restrained. She didn't scowl as much this morning and the tension that had been on her face all of yesterday was less prevalent.

Maybe we were a good match for each other. I had thought this was all lust and repressed sexuality but… I did love her and she helped me feel calm and like I was supposed to be who I was. I couldn't speak for her but she was definitely opening up more with me and with Stella apparently.

When I did go down stairs she was finishing up her coffee and texting someone again.

I gave her a hug before she left, watching her leave with Matteo as Tye pulled up the driveway.

I went back to the kitchen and poured myself some coffee and added the milk. My phone had no new messages when I sat down and at first it didn't register that it meant anything. Halfway through my coffee though I remembered I texted Sophia and pulled up her feed, but there was still no reply. She usually replied within thirty minutes or so… maybe she was busy? Maybe she forgot to plug her phone in?

I sent a follow up ‘is everything okay?’ and settled back to eat some yogurt.

She'd respond when she got the chance.

For now, I needed to figure out how to spend my day.

There were name change things I could get together, forms that needed to be filled out for that to happen and figuring out exactly which part of the courthouse it needed to go to. I knew where the courthouse was at least, deep in the heart of the city. Going there was going to be a hassle.

But it wouldn't be a bad idea to talk with Alisha about it more. For now I'd find the needed forms and fill them out. 

And then… I could consider finding a job… but I would want the name change first. Oh but then there was also the process of getting my license updated and birth certificate and my bank account… I should probably close it to open a new account. I didn't know if my parents had stashed that information away somewhere and even if they would be smart enough to know they couldn't spend any money from it, the thought of them seeing what I was doing was unpleasant.

There were a lot of things to do, I realized, to erase that name from existence.

At least we were in a largely progressive state, it would make some things easier.

I gave Tye a nod as he came in and dropped a light sweatshirt on the back of a chair. He pulled the same seat out for himself.

I turned back to my phone. I’d do some baking today, I decided. I still had that chocolate and cocoa powder and I should use them, otherwise it was a waste of Alisha’s money.

But what could I make with them?

I looked at Tye.

“Do you know what to do with cocoa powder and chocolate?” I asked.

He looked up from his phone, and thought for a moment. “What did you get them for?”

I hesitated to answer. “Checkerboard sables,” I told him.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to make those? I can drive you to the store to get missing ingredients.”

I shook my head. “You see… Alisha knew what cookies I was talking about whan I brought them up because her mom used to make them. And given the current situation…”

He nodded. “I see. It would be in poor taste to make them for her right now.”

“Exactly.”

He thought for a long moment. “Double chocolate, I think, is what they call things with both chocolate dough and chocolate chips in it so anything like that should work.”

“Double chocolate….” I typed it in my phone and saw the autofill pick up ‘double chocolate chip cookies, double chocolate cake, double chocolate brownies, etc.’ “Does Alisha like brownies?” I asked him.

He thought for another moment. “She’s definitely more of a sour or creamy dessert person, but I think she would still appreciate them.”

“You guys never had brownies as kids?” I asked. “I mean, like, at school and stuff.”

“We didn’t…” he gave me a confused look. “She went to boarding school.”

“Oh, right,” I followed. Did that mean boarding schools didn’t do bake sales and class parties or that Tye and her hadn’t gone to the same school?  “But does she like chocolate? Or cakey things?”

He rubbed his brow a little bit as this seemed to be a difficult question to answer. “The best I can say is try it. She’s not the type to hold it against you for trying something new.”

“Hm,” I agreed but still debated with myself. Brownies were almost a childish food. It didn’t mean they weren’t tasty, though. 

“I’ll give it a try,” I said. “They’re supposed to be pretty easy, right, so I’m less likely to screw it up.”

He didn’t say anything more, but did give me an approving nod as I stood and went to the kitchen, bringing my empty dishes with me to set in the sink, and then looked over at the dishwasher tucked under the counter next to it.

I opened it to find other dirty dishes in there and decided to save whoever tended to load this the trouble of doing it later. Alisha’s house staff, the cleaners at least, tended to be quick and come in the afternoon. I tended to avoid them as I had no idea how to handle seeing someone clean up after me to the degree they did. Every window, every glass pane in the bathrooms, every faucet and countertop ended up polished. The floors were always vacuumed and mopped and laundry done in between these tasks, ending up folded or hung up as needed by the time they finished. This process happened weekly. There was still anxiety when I thought about them pulling the bed sheets off; maybe there’d be a smell or a stain or any number of other things. Alisha was a very private person so she’d probably take care of something like that herself… and I’d never seen or felt much in the way of evidence of our bedroom activities after an hour or two.

With the dishes out of the way, I pulled up a recipe and scrolled through it.

It wasn't hard or arduous. I melted butter in the microwave pulling it out and setting it aside to cool a bit as I got together the sugar and eggs and milk. These were beaten into the butter until it was a smooth paste at which point the cocoa powder and flour and baking powder were added and mixed until properly gloopy.

It smelled chocolatey and it was tempting to lick the batter off my hand when it was dripped on there but I controlled myself… until I got the brownies in the oven. Then I broke and licked the spoon I had mixed everything with. It was quite chocolatey and sweet. While the brownies started to bake I chopped the chocolate bar up, an easier task said than done as it fractured and bits of chocolate went flying everywhere and trying to keep it contained with my hand melted it and left brown smudges everywhere. After a few minutes, when the brownies had started to set I pulled the oven rack out enough I could reach in with fistfuls of chocolate and drop them on top before sliding it all back away to finish baking.

Then it was waiting while the smell drove itself into my brain and made me salivate. Even after the timer beeped I had to wait for things to cool. The recipe was definitely aimed at people who needed to be walked through things step by step. It explained a lot of details I wouldn't have even known to ask, which was good. I didn't know a lot about baking but I could understand the processes.

I checked my phone again, finding my message still unresponded to.

My heart sank. This wasn’t right. I didn’t know why it wasn't right, but Sophia had never ignored me like this. Even when she was mad at me as her little sibling, she had always calmed down before long and started talking again.

Naturally the next thing to do was to call her but the line just rang until it ran out of rings and then the voicemail message started to play. I hung up and sighed. My stomach was hurting.

“Is everything okay?” Tye asked.

“I can’t… reach Sophia,” I explained.

“How long has it been?” he asked.

“I texted her last night but she didn’t respond.” I could feel the knot in my throat, so painfully tight. What if she’d gotten hurt? Or died? If my parents couldn’t talk to me, who would tell me?

“How long does she usually take to respond?” he asked.

“Thirty minutes or less,” I told him.

He stood then, taking a breath and pulling some car keys from his pocket. “How about we take a drive over there and see what’s going on?” he asked.