I Hate You, Mr. Boss-Man [18+]

028

It was early in the morning when I came to—yawning deeply, footsteps padding against the flooring as I made my way into the kitchen. I left Jesse upstairs, I didn't want to wake him since he looked so peaceful tucked under his duvet. He needed some sleep, especially after the day we both had. I, on the other hand, couldn't get myself to fall back asleep after I had used the bathroom so, coffee was my first task of the day.

Although I preferred the way Jesse made it, I resulted to try and make myself. If I could just figure out how to use the damn thing. It wasn't anything I had at home where you just fill the reservoir, place a filter, scoop in the grounds and press the button—voila, you're done. This was something out of the 22nd century. The machine had too many buttons- options that weren't just regular coffee.

I sigh, brushing off caffeine for the moment. I'd just wait for him to wake up. I lean my back against the counter, pondering how the one who claimed they loved to cook, left this kitchen pristine and untouched. There wasn't a trace of anything—as if no one even lived here.

I wasn't a big cook, that I knew but, my dad was. And I thought I'd take a page out of Landon Stratford's big book of family recipes. Dad never liked to follow recipes, so every measurement was taken from memory. Whenever I had a bad day, whether it be morning or night— pancakes were the way to go. So, I grab the apron from the hook and got to work.

I scavenge Jesse's pantry, looking for the ingredients and utensils I needed for Dad's pancakes. I lay it all out on the counter, cracking eggs and flour dusting over once I start to whisk to a thin but, fluffy consistency. I was making a mess and, if dad were still with me, he'd scold me to keep my station clean. I feel myself smile, wiping away the light sheen of sweat with the back of my hand.

I scoop the batter into the cast iron skillet, starting the first pancake, the waft of cooking batter filling the air. Yup, smells just like dad's batches. I flip it over, letting the other side cook through before quickly moving on to the next as I start to break out into a song. "...Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel, Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you..." Another pancake until I had a decent stack. "Hey Stephen, I've been holding back this feeling so, I've got some things to say to you..."

"Who's Stephen?"

I jump, my heart falling to the pit of my stomach—the spatula tattering to the floor. My head snaps to Jesse's figure leaning against the arched door frame, an amused expression painted on his face, lips tugged into a smirk. "Jesus, fuck," I grumble, crouching down to retrieve the spatula.

"Should I be worried about this...Stephen, was it?" Jesse muses, pushing off the frame to make his way over to me. I hold the utensil against my chest, trying to create a border between us. My eyes rounded as I took in his state. Wild curls obscured his forehead, waywardly sticking out. Shirtless, with nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, my cheeks blushing furiously.

"N...no," I stammer, my heart slowing to its relaxed pace. "Just a song, Jess," I say softly, eyes fluttering shut at the softest peck of his lips against my cheek.

"Jess?" He beams, brows raised in surprise as he leans back to look at my face, taking his thumb to clean something from my face. "You never call me Jess, what's the occasion?" He teases, licking a dollop of batter from his thumb.

"Jesse, no!" I exclaim, grabbing onto his wrist. "It has raw egg!"

He shrugs nonchalantly as soon as I let go. "A little egg never hurt anyone. What'd ya make?" He walks over to the coffee maker, glancing over his shoulder as he pressed a few buttons. Oh, thank god he was making coffee. "Smells like pancakes."

"That's because it is," I marvel, reaching over the counter to retrieve the plate stacked with pancakes. "What do you think?"

He turns back to me, taking the first one off the top, and he takes a bite. He frowns softly, chewing slowly to take in the flavors. Could he taste the vanilla, the sugar? "Oh my god," His mouth full, almost sounding like gibberish.

"What?" I waited, brows furrowing at his reaction. "Is it bad?"

He shakes his head, swallowing before taking another bite. "Not even a little bit, these are incredible, sweetheart," He gushes, a light beeping sound gracing our ears. Finally, some caffeine. "And you said you didn't know how to cook." He shakes his head, taking the pancake with him to gather two mugs from his cabinet.

"No," I correct him. "I said I wasn't a big cook, never said I didn't know how to cook. Besides," I set the plate down onto the counter. "I don't make these for everyone so, consider yourself lucky."

"Baby, just being with you makes me the luckiest man on earth." He flashes me a smile and continues to pour the coffee into one of the mugs. My heart tightened, my fingers gripping onto the edge of the counter behind me. Not yet, Kat. It's still not time.

"Aren't you a sweet talker," I crow, shaking my head as he passes me a mug, already containing the creme and sugar. "Keep it up and I might have to call off my relationship with Stephen." I joke, taking a sip of the bittersweet liquid.

"Haha," He voices, the clatter of his mug setting down onto the counter. He turns to look at me, his arms crossing. "Seriously, who the hell is Stephen?"

I giggle—breaking into fits of laughter I had to set the mug down. My cheeks burn from my widened smile.

"What's so funny?" Jesse snickers, deep chuckles emitting from him but, I couldn't stop laughing. "K...Katherine," He breathes, his laughs softening.

"You're so cute," I scrunch up my nose, wrapping my arms around his waist to pull him against me, my neck leaning back to look at him. "Especially when you're jealous about a guy from a song."

"Even so," He shrugs, hands sliding up to the small of my back. "He can't have my girl."

"Aww," I gush, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Stephen may look like an angel but, he'll never be you," I promise, cupping his jaw now as I bring him down for a gentle kiss.

"Now who's the sweet talker?" Jesse notes, holding me in his arms. "You know something?" He mumbles, eyes casting down to what I was wearing. "I really like you in my clothes but..." He smirks mischievously, steel blues slowly meeting mine. "I like it better when you don't have anything on."

"Jesse..." I warn, stepping out of his grasp, my footsteps backtracking. "I just made breakfast, can't we eat first?" I complain, his figure stalking towards me as if I were the prey.

"Aww, sweetheart," He tilts his head to the right, flashing me a devilish grin. "I thought we established that eating you is way more fun."

I made a run for it, almost making it up the stairs until he captures me from behind, arms wrapping around my waist. I yelp out loud, giggling as he spins me around in his grasp.

"Am I interrupting something?"

We both freeze, a chill running down my spine at the voice that hit our ears. Gently, he sets me down, turning to face whoever stepped into his condo. I pull my shirt down, looking to Jesse for confirmation.

"Mom?"