Lennon.
When I woke up the bed I was once sharing suddenly seemed a lot bigger than it was the night before. I stretched my arms and legs out, releasing an exaggerated yawn at the same time. I stopped yawning half way through when I realised I could stretch out as far as my arms and legs would allow. I quickly shot up in bed and as soon as I snapped my eyes open it became apparent I was alone. The space where Harry was lying hours before was now cold, as if he had been missing for a while. I hadn't heard him move, let alone get up and leave.
I sat upright in bed, the duvet cuddled around my body as I debated on what to do next. I was in a house surrounded by complete strangers but I could hardly stay in bed all day. The clock next to the bed read only eight fifteen. I was still amazed I had managed to sleep so long, almost a full ten hours which was a rare occurrence. Apparently I was more tired than I first thought.
Without wanting to waste anymore time, or dwell on what to do, I flipped the covers off, which released the warm air I had mustered up, back into the room. I shivered at the room temperature that was a lot less than under the duvet. The icy air indicated the person who owned the house, which after little thought last night, occurred to me, was Paul. I wondered why he didn't have the heating on, it was practically winter. But they always say men don't feel the cold.
I shuffled across the bedroom still only wearing the t-shirt and shorts Harry had given me last night. I had no spare clothes with me, making things a bit awkward. I didn't want to wander the house baring half my flesh, so I reluctantly put back on yesterday's clothes. I felt a little warmer in my jumper and skinny jeans but I still would have preferred some sort of heating element.
Once I opened the bedroom door, I craned my neck into the hallway. No noise, no movement, no anything. If anything, you'd think the place was deserted. I decided not to retreat back into the bedroom and headed towards the stairs instead. Luckily the tour I had been briefly given yesterday had somewhat stuck in my head. I vaguely remembered the directions to the kitchen; down the stairs, through the foyer and turn right until you reach it.
Just when I thought I was alone, wandering through the house, I just reached the hallway which led to the kitchen when I literally jumped out off my skin at the sight of another person. I had to clutch the skin above my heart it was beating so fast. Although the culprit was oblivious to the almost heart attack he almost have me, as he yawned and wiped the sleep away from his eyes.
"Come to make me breakfast?" He mumbled, still yawning.
"What?" My face probably looked completely gormless as I tried to determine whether he was joking or not.
"I'm kidding, unless you're offering?" He cheekily smirked. From what I could recall yesterday and the previous encounter, I was stood staring at Niall, the Irish one and on this occurrence he wasn't drunk.
"Do you like croissants?" I questioned intriguingly as I followed him to the kitchen, which was also deserted.
"Those are French right?"
"French pastry things."
"As long as I don't have to help, you can make me anything your heart desires."
I wasn't normally your typical friendly, drop anything to do something for someone sort of person. But deep down in my conscious I knew the real reason why I felt the need to bake. Normally at this time I'd be heading to work, ready for a full day of baking, with Nia gossiping in one ear and Floyd nagging in the other. Knowing that wouldn't be happening anytime soon, maybe ever again, I couldn't quite let it go. I complained about it all the time but deep down, I did enjoy it to some extent. And now it's been taken away, I'm not sure what I'm going to do without. Let alone without Nia, any thoughts about her made me sick to my stomach. Her lifeless body lying in a pool of her own blood haunted my mind, so much so I managed to burn my finger just turning the gas stove off.
