Justin grinned when he heard Selena shriek from upstairs. He shook his head a little and went back to making breakfast. Right on time, Baylor came trudging into the kitchen, barking in irritation. He ate from his food bowl and bolted through the back door. Selena’s voice came floating down the stairs after him.
“Okay, see, last night when I said to you ‘tomorrow no matter what make sure I get up at seven,’ what I actually meant was tomorrow no matter what make sure I have the option of getting up at seven, in case when seven comes, I actually want to get up, which, as it happens, I didn’t,” he heard her calling conversationally. A moment later she rounded the corner into the kitchen. She was in small shorts and a black tank with lace straps that Justin loved so much. She stopped just inside the room, hands on her hips.
“Therefore you’re currently responsible for the Great Baylor Massacre,” she continued lightly. He raised his eyebrows at her and she rolled her eyes. “I tell you, if I didn’t love that furball so much there would have been casualties.”
Justin shrugged, returning his attention to their breakfast. “Hey, I take things very literally,” he said airily. “I would think you’d know that by now. But as it is, it seems said furball escaped through the door with a mild decapitation. Of ego.”
A smile tugged up one corner of her mouth and she fixed him with an appraising stare. “You, Justin Drew Bieber, need a lesson in tact,” she sighed, very aware of his eyes on her legs as she walked over to the table to pour herself some coffee. She turned to face him, leaning back against the edge of the table and arching an eyebrow. He snapped his eyes up to her face and smiled, just a little sheepish. “Mmhmm,” she hummed as if emphasizing her point, rolling her eyes again. He turned back to the counter, laughing.
“You know better than to even try to give me lessons in tact,” he replied. “Old dog new tricks and all that.”
He heard her laugh behind him and the next moment she was leaning on the counter next to him, moving her cup around in circles to swirl the bubbles at the top. “Just because you took over the music industry at just fifteen,” she began in a singsong voice. She leaned over toward him a little, grinning. “Doesn’t mean eighteen is an old dog.”
“I dunno,” he sighed dramatically. “I kind of feel like an old woman, making breakfast for you every morning.” He turned toward her and held a plate of waffles between them. She took hold of the other side of it, smiling innocently.
“Aww, you just do that because you love me,” she said in her best koochie-koo voice, smiling in a way that wrinkled her nose a little. She knew Justin thought it was adorable.
Justin smiled. He knew what was coming next. This was his favorite kind of kiss, the morning kiss. She leaned up toward him, the plate still between them. She placed a hand lightly on his chest to steady herself. And she kissed him. It was short and soft, like it was a habit. That was what he loved about the morning kiss. It was like something they would do every day for the rest of their lives.
Her lips left his, but he stopped her, leaning close and kissing her again. When he pulled away from her, she was still smiling. She eased the plate out from between them and returned to the table. Justin stayed on the spot, frowning a little. There was something different about the morning kiss today. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was. It felt the same, it wasn’t any longer or shorter than usual. Then it hit him. She tasted different.
Justin licked his lips, confused. How could she taste different? In the two years they had been kissing, she had always tasted the same. He remembered the first time he noticed it.
When they first started kissing, he was sixteen. Hardly experienced, hardly paying attention to much besides not screwing it up. They were getting used to it, testing the waters. It was new and strange and a little frightening. He didn’t become quite comfortable with it until nearly a year had passed, a year of practice between the two of them.
