Where Promises Must Glide

22 - Juliette

My head was pounding.

Ophelia's cartoons were blaring louder than usual. But the smell of pancakes were tempting to make me get out of bed. Last nights events were a blur. all I remember is the uncomfortableness of bar hopping, then some guy, then. . . Theo.

For fucks sake, I face palm myself. Grabbing the Advil off my bedside table, and chugging the water that was suspicious warm and had bubbles around the edges. It felt like enough courage, and mental will power, to face him.

As I waddled out of my room, fluffy bunny slippers and pink robe in tow, the smell of blueberry pancakes and bacon was becoming more apparent. The whiff was enough to practically have me floating into the kitchen like a cartoon character.

"Good morning, princess," I heard coming from what felt like my least favorite voice this week. His face was bright and sunshiny—obviously he didn't nearly black out last night. The look on his face was... odd. I'm used to a scowl, a little assholery. Not. . . whatever this is.

Ignoring him, I turned my attention to Ophelia who has taken to her routine of sitting on the couch to watch tv or drawing. "Good morning, sweetie," I say as I place a kiss on the top of her head, leaning over the back of the couch to see her drawing away on her latest coloring book. I got her some matching glitter pens—that made minimal mess—to go with the lined sheets in her animal book.

"Good morning mommy," Ophelia replied, barely sparring me a glance as she was fully submerged in the book. She was coloring a cheetah, and I loved watching her give the cheetah pink fur and purple spots.

I had been watching her color for so long that I hadn't noticed Theo was standing right next to me. "You should add a crown," he said, announcing his sudden presence, which caused a slight jump out of me.

"Theo, you are so smart," she compliments, immediately adding a bejeweled crooked crown on top of the blue colored head of the cheetah. "Like this?" She asks, lifting up the color book for his approval.

"It is perfect, kiddo," he assures, fluffing her hair as he returned to cooking. I walked into the kitchen, a far enough distance to finally talk to him privately.

I sat at the island chair, ready for conversation and clarification, but he stopped me. "Do you want anything with your yoghurt? Or do you want to eat pancakes?"

Looking over his shoulder, I saw all the ingredients for my latest fixation breakfast. "I got a break today, no practice. So I'll just have bacon, no pancakes." He nodded, platting me a couple of pieces of bacon, plus the yogurt. He added honey, granola, and dried fruits like how I usually have it. He also slid me a cup of coffee—which I don't usually have this early, but he winked and I realized it was for the hangover.

"How's your head?" He asks, nonchalantly.

"You know I still hate you?" I inform him.

"Hate me as much as you want, princess. Doesn't mean I can't check up on you," he gave me a smug grin that caused me to scowl—instead of him. "Also, last I checked, I am still employed by you so I should be allowed to check up on my boss."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not your boss, Theo."

"The makeshift contract you made says otherwise," he explained, shrugging. He was finding joy in pushing my buttons.

"Do you take pride in annoying me?" I question. "Is this like some kink I need to worry about?" Maybe I could tease too, friendly fire.

He snickered. "Sweetheart, we have more concerning problems to deal with than my kinks. Now answer the question because I truly love repeating myself; how is your head?" The last sentence had a little added grit to it, and I knew I brought back the Theo I obsess over.