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Chapter Thirteen
Blue
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The sound of cabinetsclosing and the clang of pots and pans pulls me from sleep. I blink, trying to bring my vision into focus.
When I hear what sounds like something hitting the floor, I shoot upright and look around the room before my eyes dart to the bed next to me.
Harris.
Throwing back the covers, I quickly climb out of bed, my legs a little wobbly beneath me. Glancing at the bedside clock, I see it’s right after nine.
Even though I’m eager to go inspect and find out what’s happening in my apartment, my need to use the facilities is greater. Stepping into my small ensuite bathroom, I cringe when I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
I look like a hot mess. My hair is matted on one side and I have mascara smeared under my eyes. After using the restroom, I wash my face, brush my teeth, and do my best to tame my wild hair. It doesn’t cooperate, per usual, so I end up tying it into a messy bun on top of my head.
Being as quiet as I can, I push open the bedroom door and tip toe into the living room, spotting Harris immediately. He’s in the kitchen and he appears to be...cooking?
I lift my hand to my mouth to hide my smile.
Last night was unexpected. And while sleeping is not what I pictured I would do if I ever took Harris to bed, sleeping is all that happened. And it was really nice, surprisingly. I haven’t slept in a bed with someone since James. I didn’t realize how much I had missed it.
Harris turns, his eyes locking on me. A slow smile pulls up his handsome face.
“About time you woke up.” He waves a spatula at me before turning back to the stove.
“What are you doing?” I head into the kitchen, sliding up next to him to peer into the pan.
“Making pancakes.” He knocks his hip against mine. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving, actually.” I look around the mess he’s made. “You, uh, really did a number in here.” I gesture to the countertop that’s covered in flour, eggs shells, and a half empty carton of milk.
“I’ll clean it up,” he promises, but I’ve already turned away from him, using a dry towel to sweep the flour off the counter into my hand.
“That’s okay. I got it. You are cooking me breakfast, after all. The least I can do is help clean up.”
“I found some chocolate chips in the pantry. I hope you don’t mind but I threw some in the batter.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I figured you can’t go wrong with chocolate.”
“You figured right,” I tell him, brushing my hands off over the trash can. “Though I gotta say, I’m a little surprised you’re still here.”
“Why’s that?” He flips the two pancakes in the pan before giving me a sideways glance.
“I don’t know. You don’t think this is a little weird?” I gesture between us.
“Why would it be weird?”
“Well, considering a few days ago I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you. Now here you are, in my apartment, cooking me breakfast...after you slept in my bed.”
And it was the best night of sleep I’ve had in a very long time, but I don’t say that.
“Things change.” He shrugs. “I told you that once you got to know me you’d realize how wrong you had been about me.”
“I don’t know,” I murmur, tossing the eggshells into the trash.
