A Mean Tongue and Codeine

Chapter 5

Maia woke up with a sharp inhale. Too close, she thought, that was too close. One more glass of wine or one more touch or one more look and Maia probably would've woken up in his bed instead of just his clothes. She covered her face with her hands and curled up on her side, embarrassed at the events of last night. How desperate must she have looked, almost throwing herself at Andrew. He invited her to stay to be polite, not for anything else. She was just a way for him to stay entertained while in Denver.

She pulled her phone off the nightstand and saw 4 new messages from Lauren.

"If you're staying the night somewhere then I'm the president. When are you coming home?"

"Helloooooooooooooo???"

"Maia Lee if you're serious right now I'm going to lose it WHO IS IT"

"Hell has frozen over. I want ALL the details when you get home. Call me when you wake up."

She locked her phone and set it back on the nightstand. Maia definitely wasn't calling, and Lauren definitely wasn't getting the details. She felt that horrible cringing feeling in her chest again at the realization that she would have to come up with yet another lie before getting home.

Getting home...Maia began to panic. What was the protocol for sneaking out after a night of drinking that didn't end in sex or even sharing a bed? Did she strip the sheets? Start the laundry? Duck and sprint away? Her heart grew tighter and tighter. Surely, Andrew was gone by now. He probably had loads of stuff to do before a big show.

A blessed smell filled the air, pulling Maia out of her spiral. Was that...she sat up, ignoring the spin of her head. Bacon? Was this one of those things that happened before people had a stroke?

Maia slid out from under the covers and shimmied her jeans back on. Her school t-shirt lay over her work bag. Allowing the slightest of smiles, she kept Andrew's grungy pub shirt on. She wrapped herself in a small throw blanket before opening the door. Definitely bacon. The smell was so much stronger now. The tile was cold against her bare feet, sending a shiver up her spine. Maia rounded the corner, now convinced she was still drunk from the night before.

"Morning, coffee's in the pot still. I'd've fixed it for you, but I don't know how you take it," Andrew stood at the stove, a pan of eggs and bacon crackling in front of him.

She moved towards the pot of coffee and single mug next to it, watching Andrew out of the corner of her eye. "Black is fine," She lied. She hated black coffee, but she was too overwhelmed to worry about what creamer Andrew had. "What is this?"

He laughed a bit under his breath, the smile barely visible under his bedhead. "Breakfast!"

"Right..." she poured the coffee and sat down at the kitchen island. "But...why?"

He shrugged. "I woke up hungry and was going to cook anyway, figured you might as well eat too." He turned off the fire and grabbed two plates from the cabinet. He set her portion in front of her before sliding a stool around to the other side of the island, positioning himself in front of her.

Maia felt frozen, paranoid, like at any moment cameras would burst from the walls and prove that she was on some prank TV show. It took conscious effort to pick up the fork, scoop up the eggs and put them into her mouth. It was an astronomical feat to swallow them, despite how good the food tasted – again.

Again.

She was a distraction. The feeling hit her like a truck. He was leaving, in less than 24 hours probably, and he was making her breakfast for the second time? She didn't even feel the flame fill her chest and cloud her vision until it was too late.