by B. A. Wolfe
I should have known that was coming. I needed to come up with a lie and quick. I took in a deep breath and pulled an answer together. “I think I felt sick because I need to eat something,” I told him. It wasn’t necessarily a lie either. I was so hungry it really was making me feel sick.
He let his brow down. “Good answer. I was about to take you back in, you know? I don’t like seeing you sick.”
“I know Jase, I know.” I was beginning to see even more, how caring he was when it came to my health. I just couldn’t understand why.
He cocked his head to the side and peered at me. “What did you just call me?” he asked.
I didn’t realize I had, but I guess I just gave him a nickname. I slumped down against the wall, feeling awkward and wondering if he wasn’t happy that I just shortened his name for him. “I called you Jase. Is that okay?” I asked coyly.
A smile swept across his face, all his pearly whites beaming just like his eyes. He stood up and lowered his hand in front of me, helping me up.
“It’s definitely okay,” he said approvingly.
“Good,” I replied.
“Breakfast or lunch?” he asked. Food, yes food.
“Honestly, you pick, I just need something,” I said.
“Okay then, breakfast just so happens to be my favorite meal of the day and one of the things I can cook. You better prepare yourself for the best breakfast you’ve ever had Sweetheart.”
“Can’t wait,” I said, hardly believing I was about to have a guy cook breakfast for me. The only meals cooked for me were either from a chef at a restaurant or the microwave. He started to walk us out of the bathroom, but I wasn’t quite finished in there.
I tugged my arm behind him to turn him toward me. “I need to use the little girls’ room still.” I was now really embarrassed. He let a chuckle escape his throat before letting my hand and body go back into the bathroom.
Eight
AFTER I RELIEVED MYSELF, I decided a shower was in order. I grabbed a towel under the sink and turned the water on. I got the water to just the right temperature before submerging my body underneath the much needed escape. I started thinking about every single moment up until now.
A few of the moments made me angry for letting myself even be in this mess, then I thought of all the things I still had yet to do. I didn’t want to be weak and let all the things I had yet to do consume me and take me down. I had to be strong. I was only twenty-one and felt like I was some young teenager screwing up her life.
The thoughts of getting back on track made me think of the ride down, making me think of Jason. I wasn’t sure why my thoughts led me to him. I let the water continue to pour on top of me, running down my face so I couldn’t see. But that didn’t stop the vision of Jason’s gorgeous, green, drown-worthy eyes staring back at me, wanting to consume me. It wasn’t bad enough that his eyes got a hold of me first; he also had the biggest heart in the world. I didn’t know how many times he had helped a complete stranger before, but something told me it was a lot more than just helping me out. He was a good guy, and as crazy as I was for staying here, I was completely okay with it all and happy I had someone with me. I was changing in more ways than one. And as I was changing so was the water, it had turned from steaming, to warm, to icy.
I quickly used whatever shampoo, conditioner, and soap they had and once the water was arctic cold, giving me the quick wake-up I needed, I turned the shower off. I dried myself, wrapped the towel around my body, and wiped away the fog on the mirror.
Although I still had a small cut and a bruise on my forehead, I looked ten times better than I felt and I’m sure I looked yesterday. I stared at the spot that had Jason’s fingers on it last night, trying to make the cut better. I didn’t understand his insistent need to help me, but I also couldn’t deny that I hated it either. I let out a sigh and turned my focus to my hair.
I didn’t have a brush with me to untangle it, so I ran my fingers through it the best I could. I opened the door, and luckily, no one was in the hallway, so I scurried to my room and closed the door behind me.
I knelt down to my suitcase and unzipped it. I decided on a pair of shorts and a silky tank top that I bought at a boutique in Boulder last month. It was flowy and breathable, exactly what I needed today since the house was already stifling hot. Unfortunately, I didn’t pack a blow dryer or curling iron with me, and I was more than regretting that decision. I was in a hurry to leave and against my better judgment, didn’t think I would need it. Mel was a hair fanatic and always had too many tools; I thought I’d be fine. It would just have to air dry.
I walked out of my room and the smell of bacon hit me immediately. It smelled delicious and made my mouth water a little more with each inhale. The last time I had breakfast was at a brunch with my parents a couple months ago to discuss the course of action I would take for my senior year of college, and of course, how they were disappointed that I didn’t graduate a year early. I remember rushing to my advisor the next day seeing if there was anything I could do to take summer courses to try and graduate even a semester early, but there was no use. I still had thirty credit hours left because of my double major and that was too much to cram into one semester. So once again I disappointed them, and once again they didn’t congratulate me on the 4.0 GPA I received last semester. I let out a sigh in frustration as I recalled the meal I had with them and suddenly was ready to start crying.
“Whoa there, Sweetheart, you okay?” he asked as I stepped into the kitchen.
I wiped the corners of my eyes and took a deep breath; I was not going to let them do this to me, not here. I looked up at him, a pair of tongs in his left hand as he stared at me. I pushed away the negative thoughts and let a smile appear on my face, for me and for the kind-hearted man standing in front of me cooking me breakfast.
“Great,” I told him.
“Good, I hope you’re hungry.”
“It smells amazing Jase. I’m starving,” I assured him, my stomach starting to growl even louder as the smell continued to linger through the kitchen. He turned back to the stove, using the tongs to turn the bacon as it sizzled in the skillet.
“Go take a seat. I poured you some juice, coffee, and water. I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” he said, looking over his shoulder at me.
I shook my head. “I’m not that picky, Jase.” I watched him in the kitchen for a moment. He looked at ease and completely into what he was doing. There was just one thing missing. “What? No apron?” I teased him.
He turned his head, looking at me over his shoulder once more. “Funny,” he replied, playfully rolling his eyes before continuing to cook.
I made my way to the table and sat down. I decided to take a sip of all of the drinks he spread out for me. I needed some coffee though; I was an all-day coffee kind of girl. With the amount of schoolwork I was doing, I had to pull too many all-nighters to keep up. But then a thought triggered in my already overcrowded brain. Was coffee okay for the baby? I let out a huff. I didn’t have a clue what was good and what was considered negligent toward this ever-growing fetus taking up residency in my stomach. Again, it was showing me how much I didn’t know about being a mother and reminding me that I wasn’t ready to be one.
“Cream?” I heard him shout.
“Not anymore,” I shouted back. “I used to be a cream, sugar, and more sugar coffee girl. But not these days.” I watched as he brought a plate full of bacon over to the table, then returned to the kitchen bringing out more plates of food, enough for the neighbors and the rest of the block.
“Jason, I think you cooked just a little too much.”
“You said you were hungry,” he reminded me.
“Yup, I sure did, but I didn’t expect you to cook a three course meal.”
“Maybe I was just trying to impress you with my culinary skills.” He winked.
He didn’t have to try; he already had impressed me more than he could realize. This was impressive though. He had an array displayed in front o
f us including pancakes, French toast, scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and sausage links. I was feeling greasy just looking at it all. I didn’t eat at home a lot. Looking at what was in front of me, I started to realize what I was missing out on. It all looked like it was cooked in a gourmet restaurant and presented as though it was something my parents would order at brunch.
“Dig in, or are you one of them fruit and yogurt girls?” he asked with a disapproving look. He was too smart for his own good. “Please don’t tell me I’m right?”
“It’s just that I rarely cook and when I go out I normally order a salad, but only because I do enjoy them and they’re healthy and quick. This, however, looks amazing,” I added, placing a little bit of everything on my plate, a little heavy on the bacon; it smelled too good and my body was craving it now. I slipped a piece of it in my mouth, savoring the salty goodness as it crunched between my teeth.
“Oh my God,” I mumbled through the bites.
“That’s what they all say,” he said smiling.
“Oh really?” I asked.
“No. Actually you’re the only one I’ve cooked for before.”
I wasn’t expecting him to say that, but it more than made me happy. “Is that so? Well you did good. I love it.”
“I’m glad. And yes, the only one,” he smirked and stared at my eyes for a moment before shifting his back down to his plate.
I didn’t know how after the flips my stomach was doing from his comment, but I finished off another piece of bacon as we sat in silence. Normally the silence would be awkward and bother me, but right now, I was too consumed by the delicious food in front of me to care. I started on my French toast when Jason finally broke the silence between us.
“So why don’t you have time to cook, too busy warding off guys?” he asked. Was this his roundabout way of asking if I had a boyfriend? He was way off base.
“Not even close. I was busy with school. I guess you could say I was a little obsessed.” I’m sure that made me sound like someone who had no life, and it was true, I didn’t.
“That busy, huh?” he asked with a surprised look on his face.
“That busy.”
“Why?”
I dropped my head and looked up at him. He looked about my age; unless he was sheltered, he should understand.
“Did you not go to college?” I asked curiously.
He shook his head and took his gaze to his plate. “I took a few classes at a community college but decided not to go back, so I never really got into the whole college thing,” he said quietly.
I was curious why, but I was learning that things down here were a little different from where I was from. Even though we were in the same state, it felt like completely different countries.
“I was double majoring, and I had a minor. Not only was I too busy to cook, but I was lucky if I remembered what day it was.”
He looked back up, his eyes tainted with sadness. I didn’t like seeing him upset and I wondered if this was how he felt when he looked at me yesterday. “What’s wrong over there?” I asked him.
He shook his head and stabbed another pancake with his fork. “Nothing, I’m just enjoying listening to you talk,” he said before eating the pancake.
“What are your majors?” he asked. “You’re making me feel a little intimidated over here, by the way.”
“Don’t. My life is far from intimidating,” I told him honestly. “My majors are Finance and Business Management,” I tried to answer him with more information, but it was all I could do to spit those words out. They tasted horrible in my mouth, especially considering it was not an ‘is’ but a ‘was’. “Can we change the subject?” I pleaded.
His lips curled up. I could tell he knew that discussing school was making me uncomfortable. It was beginning to feel like a conversation I would have with kids at school, both out of politeness and because there was nothing else to talk about with them.
“So where did you learn to cook like a five star restaurant?” I asked, changing the subject since he wouldn’t. He continued to smile, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I could have sworn his cheeks were turning a shade of red. It didn’t take much to make this guy blush.
“My mom taught me,” he answered.
“Well, kudos to your mom, she must be a great teacher,” I said, jealous that my mom never taught me to cook. I stopped the hateful thoughts against her before I let the bitterness run through me again.
“My mom used to make me breakfast a lot when I was younger, it’s sort of my comfort food,” he said after taking a sip of his orange juice. “Then she taught me how to cook it. To be honest, I think she just got sick of me begging her to do it all the time.”
“Well maybe you could come to Boulder and teach me how to cook sometime,” I said, shocking us both. I could immediately feel my cheeks getting hotter as I sat and thought about what I just invited him to do. The widening look in his eyes made me even more embarrassed; I guess it didn’t take much to make me blush either.
“I’m sorry Jase.” I laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean to say that, or maybe I did, but I guess… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I honestly don’t know why I even just said that.” I stopped myself and put my hands over my face. The words were just not coming out right. I was making it worse. I heard a husky chuckle come out of him as I slowly peeled my hands from my face.
“I’d actually really like that,” he said, smiling. I wasn’t sure if it was a pity response or if he was really being honest, but either way, I was glad he didn’t make an embarrassing situation even worse. I gave him a grateful look and finished my breakfast, both of us remaining silent until we were done.
I got up from the table when I finished and Jason immediately started getting up.
“No, you sit. I’m doing dishes,” I announced.
He started shaking his head quickly, still trying to get up. I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder.
“No means no. Now, sit and finish your coffee. You cooked breakfast; it’s the least I can do,” I said, grabbing his plate from in front of him when his hand grabbed onto it too.
“Cassandra, put it down,” he demanded. I hadn’t seen him so demanding before, and a slight thrill ran through me. I couldn’t let him do that to me though. I could be just as demanding.
“NO!” I said frustrated.
We both maintained our grip on his plate and were now competing in a stare down.
“If you don’t let go of the plate, then I will when you aren’t expecting it, and it will go flying. Then you’ll have to explain to your mom how you broke her dish.” He glared his eyes at me and slowly released the plate. “Good Jase,” I said, patting him on the head before I walked to the sink with his plate.
“You are very persistent, you know that?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck as I came back to get the rest of the plates on the table.
“And you use a lot of dishes when you cook,” I sassed back.
I noticed the lack of a dishwasher and realized this was going to be a hands-on job. I started filling the sink with hot water and soap, and sensed when Jase walked up behind me. It startled me, causing goose bumps to break out on my body. I was so focused on the water that I didn’t even see him get up from the table. He reached over my head to the cabinet above us, pulled out a dishtowel, and moved over to my left side. I turned my head toward him, staring at the towel in his hands. I shut the water off while I kept my gaze on the damn towel. He was not going to help me with this.
“What is that?” I asked, tapping my foot.
“Well Sweetheart, it’s a towel,” he replied. “I’m not sure of the specific definition, but people use it to primarily dry things, such as dishes, which I intend to do.”
I shook my head, baffled by his persistence. “And you think I’m the persistent one.”
“Go sit back down,” I told him, reaching my hand out for the towel. “If you don’t, I’m not cleaning the dishes, so you’ll
have nothing to dry.” I put a hand on each hip and stood with my back in front of the sink.
“I think you may have met your match, Sweetheart. I can play this game better than you can,” he declared, leaning his back against the counter with the towel in his hands, swishing it around.
“So what school do you go to?” he asked, breaking the silence between us. He knew what he was doing; he was going to ask me uncomfortable questions until I broke and caved in.
I wasn’t one for failing, well used to be anyway. “University of Colorado,” I said with a pleased grin.
“That’s a good school,” he stated. “Why aren’t you there right now?” He was now treading in deep waters.
I turned back to the sink and started putting the dishes in one by one.
“I dry dishes really well,” he whispered in my ear, giving me a second round of goose bumps for the afternoon. I leaned my head in his direction as I scrubbed the dishes off.
“Let’s hope so,” I said firmly. He may have won the battle, but he wasn’t going to win this war. There were too many skeletons in my closet to share with him… nice guy or not. And that was just it; he was too nice to have to worry about my problems.
“You know,” he said, taking the wet dish from my hands. “You gave up too easily.”
“Yeah, but you play dirty,” I confessed.
“I clean up nice though,” he said in such a quiet voice that I almost didn’t hear it as he continued drying dishes.
I couldn’t help but envision him cleaned up considering he looked damn good “not” cleaned up. I handed him the last one and walked over to the pile he made of clean dishes. With his help, we got all of them put away rather quickly.
“Thanks again for breakfast, and for helping with the dishes, even though you weren’t supposed to.”
“You’re the guest,” he said softly. It made me feel as though I was a longtime friend that came for frequent visits. But I wasn’t a guest, I didn’t know what I was, but a guest wasn’t it.