His Saving Grace

Chapter Twenty Eight

It had never occurred to me that having a boyfriend was ever possible. I knew that I couldn't possibly be alone forever and that being a old maid with seven cats wasn't what I thought I would become, but still. 

And to make things even worse (or better), it was Garrett who was my first boyfriend.

On days when I'd be doing nothing I'd try to predict how my future man would be like. Garrett, in terms of physical attributes, certainly didn't fit what I was hoping for, but hey. You can't have everything you want.

I always said to myself that if the day ever came that someone was insane enough to want me to become his girlfriend, I'd either smack him in the face or kick him in the part where it hurt. Obviously, that didn't happen, because I ended up kissing the guy instead of beating him up.

Oh, well. It just proves that you'll never know what could happen next.

It was seven in the morning one week later, and I woke up to getting butterfly kisses on my neck.

Well, well, well.

"Garrett," I said, pushing him gently off me. 

He pouted. "Oh, I woke you up? I'm sorry."

I laughed at his bummed expression. "How long have you been awake?"

He glanced at the wall clock. "Two hours?"

"And you've been doing what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

His face flushed with color. "I couldn't resist," he said innocently, looking at me with big, puppy dog eyes.

Well, well, well.

I pinched his nose before hopping off the bed. "Take a shower, you reek."

"Oh, look who's talking," he scoffed, collapsing back into bed. "I'm too tired."

"Too tired or too lazy?" I rolled my eyes.

"Probably both," he said, his voice muffled because of the pillow that was pressed against his face.

After taking long, cold showers, Garrett and I navigated our way through the endless maze of corridors and staircases until we reached the dining area. This would be the first time that we would be eating inside the house, since Garrett and I had woken up for the past six days with no one else in the residence, so we had been eating in the nearby cafes and restaurants. But after getting notified by one of the housekeepers that breakfast was downstairs and that Keith had insisted we eat with him, we didn't really have a choice.

The dining area's motif was modern, unlike the rest of the house. Tall, paneled windows lined the east wall, where sunlight flowed into the long room that was painted creamy white. The furniture was mostly black--the round tables, the oddly-shaped chairs, the counters, and the other appliances. Brightly colored flowers in tall, slim vases came into view every now and then, and abstract paintings in different frame sizes with had eye-popping colors hung side by side on the wall facing the north. Figurines made from glossy, breakable plastic were scattered around the room. There were more windows on the west wall. We found Arianna and Keith sitting across each other; Arianna silently nibbling on a bacon sandwich, and Keith sipping coffee as he scanned through the morning paper.

"Good morning," I said, my voice a little too loud and chipper. Arianna nearly dropped her sandwich and Keith's mug shook visibly in his hand. 

"Good morning," Arianna said in reply, grinning at us. Keith simply glanced at us, nodded, and proceeded to read the papers. I could see his knuckles turn white as he gripped tighter on his mug.

Well, good morning to you.

"Breakfast is on the counter," Arianna said, pointing at the kitchen counter where plates of food were lined up neatly, and pitchers of milk, fruit juices, and water stood next to the pot of coffee and the kettle of tea. "Help yourself."